"H-hey..."
Chuck gave the girl an uneasy wave, hoping it would calm her down. He was wrong. It only made her flinch hard before pressing herself to the wall to get away from him. Her feet scraped against the concrete floor, causing more blood to coat the ground and the stray nails near her.
"You probably shouldn't do that," Chuck warned, wondering if her feet were responsible for her tears. His eyes raked over her form again, taking in more details since she hadn't responded.
He noticed cuts along her neck and shoulders, some fresh, some healed. They blended in with the dark and light bruises adorning her skin. Her body was dirty, as well as her hair. A few twigs threaded in her grimy, blonde locks. It looked like she hadn't brushed it in weeks.
Shaking in place, he realized she was probably cold. Her clothes barely covered her. She wore a black tank top, rips in multiple places. He knew she wasn't wearing a bra, seeing a pink nipple peeking out between a large rip over her right breast.
Chuck's eyes shot back to her feet, not wanting to see anymore of her private parts. It wasn't his fault she was exposed, but that didn't mean he wanted to keep staring.
Chuck noted the short shorts she wore. He assumed they were supposed to be white. They were covered in dirt and mud, a few spots of dingy white peeking out from the filth.
It took him a moment to realize it, but her skin damage didn't look normal, even for post-outbreak. Her bottom lip was busted, there was dried blood on her arms, shoulders and legs, and she had a nasty bruise on her left eye. It looked exactly like a black eye.
"Are you okay?" Chuck blurted out, causing the girl to flinch hard. He guessed she got used to the silence, startled when he spoke. "Hey, I won't hurt you. I just wanna help."
Chuck tried to play the tough guy, but deep down he had a compassionate heart. It was why he wanted to stay instead of empty the house and leave right away. He didn't know if it was from seeing Max's dead body or not, but he wanted to help. She didn't look like she could fend for herself.
"Will you let me help you?" Chuck took a step forward, only to have her shake her head. "It's okay... I'm not gonna bite." He realized that wasn't the best thing to say. Currently getting bit was the easiest way to die.
She slowly pressed one hand to the ground to push herself up. Chuck's attention went to the cuts on her leg. They shook badly when she stood, and he finally had a good look at her body.
Or what was left of it.
He didn't realize how skinny she was until now. Her wrists, ankles, neck, shoulders... everything looked too small. He could see her collarbone clearly, and that disturbed him. He wouldn't be surprised if he could see each rib on her torso.
Chuck thought she was finally coming around, but that idea was trashed when she threw a handful of bloody nails at his face before bolting. Chuck barely managed to turn in time so they hit his back and hair.
"What the hell?!" he yelled, dropping his arm and turning to see her running up the stairs.
Chuck followed her to the main floor, only to see her struggle with the trash bags blocking the front door. He quickly got by her side, causing her to gasp before she stumbled away from him. Stepping towards her, he held both hands in the air as he said, "That little stunt was a good trick, but it won't— Where are you going now?!"
She ran away from him again, heading down the hall towards the back of the house. She swung the door open, only to slam it shut when she saw a walker lingering outside.
Chuck's eyes widened when the zombie started scratching at the door seconds later, snarling as it tried to get inside. "Shit," Chuck mumbled, not ready to deal with a zombie after finding the survivor. "Stay right here," he commanded, walking past her with his knife in hand.
Once he yanked the door open, he kicked, sending the walker stumbling backwards. Not hesitating, Chuck ran to hold a foot on the zombie's chest, keeping it in place as he drove his other foot through its neck. He snapped its spinal cord, rendering it lifeless.
Dragging his bloody shoe against the tall grass, Chuck wondered if the sound from inside caught its attention, but he couldn't be bothered with the details now. Seeing the coast was clear, Chuck went back inside before closing the door, locking it behind him.
Chuck saw the girl was on her knees, puking up a yellow-green bile. He cringed when he saw her bloody footprints on the floor. "You need to stop running. It's not good for your feet."
She shook her head, her neck looking like it might snap from the force. She glared at him; her pupils tiny while bile clung to her lips. "G-gg—" She coughed before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"What?" Chuck asked, taking a step towards her.
Her eyes started watering again, her knife pointed towards him with her trembling hand. She opened her mouth, revealing her clenched, yellowish teeth.
He sighed, realizing she wasn't going to talk to him. He watched as she climbed back to her feet, her knees shaking as she struggled to support her own weight.
"You should really sit down..." Chuck couldn't imagine how painful it was to stand on cut feet, but she didn't seem like she was relenting.
"Maybe we got off to a rough start." Chuck flashed her a fake smile. Her eyes seemed unfocused, her gaze dropping to his extended hand. "My name is Chuck. You are...?"
She shook her head, knuckles turning white from her tight grip on her knife. She ran in his direction, but instead of charging at him, she disappeared into the basement. The door slammed shut behind her, the lock clicking seconds later.
Chuck sighed. They were back to square one. His advantage was he already had a hole in the door, so he didn't have to waste time before unlocking. For someone who looked in bad shape, she was pretty feisty.
When he walked down the stairs, he saw she was standing on a tool box, trying to reach the window. She managed to open it more, letting light flood the room. He felt content watching her for a moment to see if she could actually get out, but stopped when he noticed something.
Chuck's eyes widened at the bloody, swollen wound on the back of her leg. He pulled out his knife, immediately shouting, "Is that a bite?!"
She lost her footing when she jolted, falling backwards. Chuck didn't think twice before catching her, only to have her struggle in his arms before she bit his hand.
"Shit!" Chuck pushed her away, bringing his hand to his chest. While the girl recovered, Chuck looked down, the light from his headlamp helping him see every detail of his hand. She didn't break the skin, so if she was infected, he didn't get infected too.
"What is wrong with you?!" Chuck yelled, causing her to cower. She held her hands up in defense, letting him see she was no longer holding the knife.
"Geez," Chuck groused, looking down to see he dropped his knife too. "I just wanted to know what that wounds from. Were you bit?"
The girl slowly lowered her hands, but she didn't say anything. In a calmer tone, he asked, "Are you infected?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked down at her body. As if not seeing what he was talking about, she looked back at him with a confused gaze.
"On your leg." Chuck pointed towards the wound.
She turned slightly around while she glanced down. From that close Chuck could see the other cuts on her legs clearer. Some were long, some were short. Most were healed, but others looked barely scabbed over. She looked as if she got tangled up in barbed wire.
"What happened to you?" Chuck found himself asking. Sure, he had some new scars and cuts since the outbreak happened, but it was from the multiple battles he had with the undead. She didn't look like she'd last two seconds against a walker, let alone a sprinter.
Her blue eyes found his before she shook her head, wrapping her arms over her thin stomach. He dragged his hand over his face in frustration. "Are you mute or something? Can you not talk?" His eyes widened when something occurred to him. "Shit, do you even understand me?" He hadn't thought of that. What if she didn't speak his language? He just assumed she did, but he could be wrong.
She stared at him for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"Oh." Chuck didn't know if that was good news or bad. She understood him, she just didn't want to talk to him. "Okay... Umm..." He took a step back until he was standing near the stairs. "Are you with a group?"
She said nothing, giving him no nod or shake of the head. "... Umm... Are you by yourself?"
Still, nothing.
"Are you living here?" he asked, looking around at the cold basement. He saw no blankets, no bed, nothing to indicate she had taken up residence. He doubted she lived in the house. When he arrived, there were no traces of blood on the floors.
Finally, the girl shook her head.
"Okay, where do you live?" He hoped he was getting somewhere with her now. Sadly, he was mistaken since she just stared at him blankly.
"Look..." Chuck really wished he remembered the protocol for finding a survivor. "If you don't have a group or anythin', you can join mine. I know they wouldn't mind."
She shook her head quickly, eyes growing wide. He concentrated on her face for a moment.
"Okay... So, you don't wanna join." Chuck frowned. He wasn't the type to call someone weak, but she didn't look like she could take care of herself. He still didn't know if she was infected or not, wondering what caused that larger wound on her leg.
Chuck looked down at her body again, seeing how tiny she was compared to the women at Batshit. He wouldn't be surprised if she was Sierra's weight, which was alarming since Sierra was fourteen and the woman in front of him looked around his age, give or take a few years.
Chuck leaned down to pick up his knife. She tensed, then stepped away until she pressed against the wall. "I'll... I'll be right back," Chuck said before leaving her alone. He didn't want her to escape, but he also didn't want to scare her any further.
Securing his knife to his belt, Chuck walked to the front door where the bags of items rested. Fishing through some of them, he pulled out a bottle of water. He walked to the kitchen, grabbing two of the granola bars he left out for himself.
Returning to the basement, he was surprised to find she hadn't moved. He held up the food and drink. "What's your wound from?"
The girl's eyes were fixed on the water as she bit her lower lip, wincing when she dragged her teeth over the cut.
Knowing he held her attention, Chuck said, "I'll give these to you if you tell me what the wound is from."
Slowly, she bent down to pick up her steak knife. She held it out sideways instead of pointing at him. He cocked his head as he thought about what she was trying to tell him. "A knife wound?"
She nodded.
"Oh." Chuck felt relieved knowing she wasn't infected. Part of him suspected she wasn't since he'd been in the house for a while and she hadn't shown any symptoms of changing -coughing up blood, eyes turning bloodshot, barely able to move a muscle without crippling pain, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
He slowly dropped the food and water on the floor. "You should eat that."
With a shaky hand, she reached for the water. Chuck frowned when he saw her right breast poking out from the tank top more, her nipple hard from the cold air. He wanted to ask if she knew she was dressed like that, but he guessed she didn't have any other clothes. If she had gone upstairs, she would have found some.
"Here," Chuck said, grabbing the ends of his shirt before pulling it up. While he was busy taking off his shirt, the girl was panicking. She tensed, her knife now in a defensive position as she ignored the food and water, blue eyes trained on the man in front of her undressing.
Chuck turned the shirt the correct way, then balled it up. The air touched his bare tan skin, letting him know it was freezing down in the basement. "You should— Are you okay?" He narrowed his eyes when he realized she was acting strange again. He took a step forward, missing the way her hand twitched. "You look a little spook—"
Before he could react, the girl swiped her knife through the air. The blade tore through his right cheek, fresh blood spilling down his face.
"FUCK!" Chuck jerked back, dropping his shirt and pressing a hand to his face to stop the bleeding. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!"
Chuck took a step back, cringing when he looked down to see blood dripping onto his chest. "DAMN IT!" Chuck took out his frustrations on the shelves on the wall, kicking one of them hard enough to make various items scatter over the floor. "Beckman's gonna fucking kill me!"
Chuck stomped upstairs, heading to the bathroom in hopes of finding something to help him. Using his clean hand, Chuck opened the medicine cabinet, finding a few items that would be useful. Splashing some rubbing alcohol on his face, he winced from the stinging sensation it caused. He used a hand towel to wipe away most of the watery blood before messily applying a bandage.
He was never good at dressing wounds.
Despite his attempt at cleaning himself, Chuck was left upset with his face in tremendous pain. He hoped he got all the infected blood off his hand earlier, otherwise he might have just screwed himself over when he touched his newest wound.
He was beyond pissed at that girl for cutting him. It was only now that one of the protocols about finding survivors popped into his head.
Don't bring back anyone who's hostile.
She could definitely be considered hostile. Who cut someone because they offered a shirt?
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Chuck kicked the sink, cursing his luck. He finally found something great —the house full of supplies— only to face his possible demise: Blood contamination.
Chuck understood she was scared, but did she really have to cut him? He was just trying to help! Leaving the bathroom, he growled when he saw her coming out of the basement.
"Stay the hell away from me!" Chuck yelled, wondering how long he would have before his blood soaked through the bandage. Beckman warned him the last time she gave him stitches that she was running low on supplies, telling him he would have to be more careful from now on.
If he didn't get infected, he would have to face her wrath, and he really didn't want to do that. Beckman was one of the nicest women he knew, but when she got mad, she was like a fucking hurricane.
While he glared at the girl who was still holding that bloody knife, another thought occurred to him. "What was the blood on your knife from?"
She flinched at his harsh tone, only to shake her head.
"No!" Chuck marched towards her, scoffing when she raised her steak knife to him again. He didn't want to threaten her, but he wanted to live more. Grabbing her wrist with a tight grip, he smacked it against the doorway as he grasped her other wrist, holding her captive. "Where was the blood from?!"
Her face contorted as she began crying. Shaking her head, she refused to give him an answer. "I'm not gonna hurt you! I just need to know if it was infected blood?!" Chuck growled when she closed her eyes, shutting him out.
"Was it from a zombie?!" Chuck demanded, his patience running out quickly. He breathed deeply, smelling the body odor coming from her. He couldn't help when his nose crinkled, offended by her smell. He doubted she took a shower in weeks.
She opened her teary eyes, a confused expression surfacing on her face. Slowly, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Z-Za?"
"Zombie!" Chuck had to force himself not to growl again. His anger was spiked, but he didn't want to hurt her despite her cutting him. "Was that blood from a zombie? You know, the dead people walking around! You just saw one!"
She flinched again, then tried struggling against his grasp. When she realized he was much stronger than her, she shook her head. "W-what? No. I d-d-don't..."
"Are you serious?!" Chuck wanted to beat his head against the wall. "Are you saying it's not zombie blood or are you saying you don't know what a zombie is?"
She shook her head, causing the rage inside him to double. He clenched his teeth as he released her wrists, snatching her knife away before tossing it down into the basement so she couldn't try to cut him again.
"I'm... I'm just gonna go for a second." Chuck turned to walk away, thoroughly pissed. He took three steps before turning back around. "And please put a damn shirt on! I don't wanna see that!"
She looked down at herself, finally realizing how exposed she was. Her hand covered her breast before she lowered her head, a light sob leaving her as she walked downstairs into the basement.
"I can't fucking believe this," Chuck groaned, wishing someone had gone with him today. He had never found a survivor on his own, so he had no idea what he was supposed to do. "Well I can't take her back to Batshit," he muttered, walking to the kitchen to grab his sports drink and light up a cigarette. If he was possibly dying of blood contamination, he at least wanted something relieving before he kicked the bucket.
Batshit didn't accept anyone who was hostile. They hadn't encountered anyone like that, but the rule was in place for their safety. So far, she threw nails at his face, bit him, then cut him. There was no way they'd let that stand. Their leader was understanding, but he valued safety more than strangers.
"Damn." Chuck pressed his fingers against the bandage, seeing blood stain the pads when he pulled them away. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, overwhelmed and lacking ideas. He finished his cigarettes before making his move, not wanting to waste it.
Risking a normal infection, Chuck grabbed the sewing supplies he dropped on the ground earlier and went back to the bathroom. He didn't see the girl on his way there, hoping she went back to the basement where she belonged. There was a possibility that she might attack again, so he locked the door behind him. Taking off his headlamp, he placed it on the sink, facing upwards to light up the room.
Pulling out the supplies, he barely managed to run the black thread through the needle since his fingers were sticky from his blood. Ready, he took off the soaked bandage, cringing when blood dripped from the wound again.
'This isn't going to be fun.'
Chuck had no idea how to stitch himself up, but he had to make a temporary fix before returning to Batshit. Wincing, he stabbed into his flesh with the needle. It wasn't as sharp as it should have been for that type of work, causing him to press the end of the needle harder into his fingers to weave it through his cheek.
The stabbing sensation had him tearing up and grunting as he powered through it. It was nothing like when he got shots, his nerves more sensitive with every thrust into his skin.
Chuck could now understand the benefit of having a curved needle for stitches. The straight one was making it hard to get in deep, so he had to sew just the tips of his split skin together. Chuck was never good at sewing, but he tried his best.
Ten minutes and forty cuss words later, Chuck was looking at the mirror, admiring his handy work. The wound was still bleeding, but it was manageable now. He hoped it would last until he got back to Batshit and could get stitched up by a real doctor.
Chuck washed off his face with rubbing alcohol, then splashed some on his chest to try to get the blood off his body. It worked a little, but the hand towel he used earlier helped better. Making sure to get as much blood off as possible, he applied a new bandage to his badly stitched cheek.
At least the only person besides him who would see it would be Beckman and possibly whoever processed him when he returned to Batshit. He couldn't imagine how embarrassing it would be if people saw his hack job.
When Chuck came out of the bathroom, he checked the basement, surprised to find it empty. Figuring the girl ran off, he sighed, not sure if he was relieved or upset. He wanted to help her, but some people couldn't be saved. He had to learn that the hard way since the outbreak, even if it pained him to think that way.
Putting his headlamp back on, Chuck headed towards the front of the house, jolting when he saw her standing in the kitchen. Her knife was on the table, her arms wrapped around her waist. At least her torso was covered in his shirt. Raising a brow, he spoke in a harsh tone. "What?"
She gulped, body trembling as she opened her mouth. It took her a moment to talk, voice shaky and low. "Th... Th-thank... y-you..."
Chuck blinked in surprise, noticing the granola bar wrappers and empty water bottle beside her knife. She must have eaten them. "Oh... Umm, you're welcome?" He looked down, seeing his shirt engulfed her, coming down to her mid thighs. He knew she had shorts on under there, but to anyone else it looked like she could be naked.
"Don't freak out," Chuck warned before moving to the side of the kitchen, pushing the curtains aside to allow some light to shine through the dingy glass. When he finished, he looked back at her. He turned off his headlamp, noticing the slight flicker in her eyes when she gazed at him, as if seeing him for the first time.
'Did... did my headlamp blind her earlier...' He couldn't help but wonder if he caused some of the problems. Having his headlamp on the entire time, she probably wasn't able to see him, instead looking at a blinding light the whole time. 'Oops...'
"F-fa..." she started; eyes trained on his right shoulder. "F— Ta..."
He looked at his Batshit tattoo in confusion. "Huh?"
She dropped her gaze, shaking her head. "N-nev-never m-mind."
Deciding to drop it, Chuck sighed. "Are... are you feeling better?" he asked a little softer, not sure if he should continue talking to her. He was put in an awkward situation, wanting to bring the stuff in the house back with him to Batshit, but he didn't want to leave her with nothing. He supposed they could split it and be fair, but he wasn't sure what fair really meant anymore. Plus, he didn't know if she would agree to that or not.
She nodded, then twisted so she could point at the steak knife. "H-hu..." She coughed. "Hu... m-m..."
"Human blood?" Chuck asked, feeling his stomach churn when she nodded. "Okay... Was it yours?" When she shook her head, he asked, "Was the human infected?"
She shook her head again.
Feeling relieved, Chuck sighed. "Well, that's good." He could deal with that. As long as there wasn't a chance, he was infected, he was safe. Bites, deep scratches, and sometimes blood on blood contact could cause someone to get infected. They didn't know every way the infection spread, still trying to piece together what was happening around them while trying to survive another day.
Chuck looked at her knife, then her. "Did you hurt someone?"
She stared at him, her blue eyes looking void of emotions as she slowly nodded. He felt his arms going numb, worried she might be more dangerous than he thought. "Did... Did you kill someone?"
She shook her head quickly, slowly grabbing the knife to thrust it in the air, dropping it when she finished her demonstration.
Chuck raised a brow, feeling queasy thinking of it. He hadn't hurt a person before. "You... You stabbed someone?"
She nodded, hand resting over the handle of her steak knife. Despite shaking, she stood a little straighter.
"Were they trying to... hurt you?" He hoped it was a case of self-defense. Maybe she was part of a group that got attacked by other people. He'd seen it happen a few times in 'The Walking Dead', so why couldn't it happen in real life? Maybe she had to fight her way to survive and she'd been traveling since then, barely getting by until she stumbled upon the house.
Nodding, she dropped her head. She let go of the knife, bringing her hand back around her body to hug herself. Chuck heard a sniffle come from her before he saw a few drops of tears fall to the ground.
Sighing, he realized why she was traumatized. He had to be partially right about the story he made up about her. She stabbed someone who was trying to hurt her, probably so she could escape. He wouldn't be surprised if the person was the one who gave her that nasty wound on her leg or her black eye. She probably thought Chuck was trying to hurt her too, so she hurt him before he could touch her.
"Hey," Chuck said, seeing her tense. Wanting to put her at ease, he softened his voice as he spoke. "I'm really not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help."
She looked up at him, pressing her fingers to her cheek. He shrugged even though his face throbbed painfully. "I've been hurt a lot worse." Chuck pointed to the stitches on his hip. "Got that not too long ago on a run. I tripped and fell on some metal scraps. Shoulda seen me, I was cryin' like a baby."
He didn't know if he was imagining it, but he thought he saw the corner of her lip twitch. "We got off to a really shitty start..." Cautiously, he reached his hand out. "Can we start over?"
Gazing at the hand, she slowly looked up at his face. He saw more tears flood her eyes as she lifted a shaky hand towards him. Chuck made sure to be extremely gentle when he took her hand before giving it a single shake.
He carefully dropped her hand. "I dunno if you heard me before... But I'm Chuck. Chuck Bartowski. What's your name?"
He didn't expect her to say anything, surprised when she opened her mouth. "J... J—"
Chuck perked up, realizing she was trying. "Starts with a J?" He didn't want her to be discouraged and give up.
She nodded. "J—" A cough cut her off.
"Jasmine?" Chuck guessed. When she shook her head, he said, "Umm... How about Jolly?"
Her lips pulled into a frown. "N-no..."
"That's probably for the best," Chuck said, causing the girl to raise a brow. "Oh, there's a Jolly back at my base. That'd get confusing..." He didn't know why he said that. It wasn't as if he could bring her there anyway. She was a threat, even if her fear caused her to act out.
"How about... Jess? Jesse? He sighed when she shook her head at all his guesses. "Jeff?"
He flinched when her eyes narrowed. "Yikes... Okay, not Jeff... Uhh... Jen?"
Her blue eyes widened.
"Is that right?" He didn't know why he was so excited, wondering if it was because he was a sucker for games. It was a little ironic. Before leaving base he was reading Manga where they were trying to guess the character's real name, and now he had the same challenge.
He thought he finally got it, but when she shook her head, he frowned. 'Why would she give me that look when I said Jen.'
He stopped thinking when he heard her clear her throat, her voice meek as she whispered, "J-Je—"
Chuck parted his lips in realization. "Jenny?"
He knew he didn't imagine it when the corner of her lip quirked up. It went back down, but he was positive she was trying to smile. When she nodded, he smiled for the both of them.
"Jenny, huh? That's a cool name." He was glad he got it right, even if it took a bit. He was running out of names that began with an J, and Jenny hadn't crossed his mind once. "What's your last name?"
She opened her mouth, then shut it. She shook her head, causing him to sigh. "It's not important," Chuck said, realizing he was lucky enough to get her first name.
"So, jenny, will you let me help you now?" He looked down at her bloody feet, knowing they must be killing her. "I'm not the best, but I think I can bandage you up."
Jenny stared at him for a while. She looked down at the knife on his belt, then back at his face.
"Don't worry." Taking off his belt, he set it on the ground. Slowly moving towards her, he saw her back up with every step he took. He grabbed her knife from the table, putting it beside his belt. "No weapons, just us. I promise I won't hurt you, Jenny."
It was the least he could do, help her out before taking most of the stuff in the house back to Batshit. He went to look at his wrist to see what time it was, realizing once again he forgot his watch in his room. "Shit..." Glancing around, he couldn't find another clock on the wall. Without knowing the time, he didn't know if he needed to hurry or not. Zombies were harder to see at night.
"Wait here," Chuck said as he went to leave the house to go to his truck. Checking out the area to make sure it was clear first, Chuck opened his truck and hopped in. Inserting the key, he turned it enough to get the dash to come on without starting the vehicle. It was one, plenty of time before dinner.
Heading back inside, Chuck opened the trash bags of items and fished out a jar of peanut butter, two more bottles of water, and a pair of thick socks he found upstairs. Walking into the kitchen, he steered clear of Jenny while going to the cabinets, pulling out a spoon from one of the drawers. Batshit had plenty of silverware from the neighboring houses to the school, so he could afford to leave them behind.
"You should eat up. I know you're hungry," he said, placing everything on the table, tapping a finger on the jar. Peanut butter was filled with protein, calories, and healthy fats, something she needed to avoid starvation. He went to grab the last granola bar on the table, ripping it open with his teeth before taking a bite, his own stomach growling.
Chuck thought she may resist the offer, but her resolve crumbled easily. Grabbing the peanut butter, her shaky fingers took off the cap before dipping the spoon inside, scooping out a generous amount before shoving it in her mouth. Relief flashed through her eyes before she closed them, as if savoring the flavor.
"How long has it been since you last ate?" he asked, shocked when she held up five fingers. "Five days?!"
Jenny nodded, opening the bottle of water before taking two big gulps.
"Damn." Chuck's chest hurt. The longest he went without eating was a day and a half, and that was before Batshit started raiding houses near the base. "Are you all alone? Or is someone helping you?"
Pointing to herself, she took another scoop of peanut butter before popping it in her mouth. Chuck shook his head, conflicting thoughts giving him a headache. He wanted to help her, but he couldn't take her back to Batshit. Leaving her alone meant she would need to fend for herself, but he needed to take what he found back to the base, including the food and drinks.
"Here, take this." Chuck handed her his half-eaten granola bar, no longer hungry. He worried she might be concerned about germs, but that worry melted away as soon as she snatched the food, taking a bite from it before swallowing. Food seemed to be the way to negotiate with her, her body clearly in starvation mode.
As he debated what to do, Jenny took a break from eating. She put a hand in her pocket, pulling out something shiny. Chuck raised a brow, watching as she slipped it on her frail wrist before continuing with her meal.
It was a bracelet, the light from the window reflecting on it. The piece of jewelry looked gold, little charms attached to it. He squinted his eyes, but even with his sharp eyes he couldn't make out what they were. 'Huh...?'
Chugging the rest of his sports drink, Chuck got to work. He grabbed paper towels from the trash bags, then all the medical supplies he could grab from the medicine cabinet. When he went back to Jenny, he saw she was finishing her water.
"Can I help you, Jenny?" he asked, supplies in his arms, pressed against his chest. "I promise I won't hurt you." He felt like he was on repeat, but he worried she didn't believe him.
Jenny stared at him for a few seconds, then dropped her gaze before nodding.
"Awesome. Just sit on the table so I can reach your feet. You can keep eating if you want," he instructed, watching as she reluctantly followed his orders. When her feet were dangling, he moved to sit down in front of them. "Fair warning, I haven't done this a lot, but I'm going to try my best."
Waiting a moment, he allowed her to get used to the idea of him sitting by her feet before touching her. "Can you hand me my water bottle?" Chuck asked, wanting her to feel involved, like she had a little control over the situation.
Watching her lean back, she moved to give him the bottle. "Thanks." Opening it, he splashed some on the paper towels.
Using the damp paper towel, he wiped away the blood, dirt, and little rocks stuck to the bottom of her feet. She winced and jerked, but she let him help her. He wiped at her feet a few times, revealing small cuts on her skin.
"This might sting," Chuck warned, pouring rubbing alcohol on a paper towel before pressing it to the bottom of her feet. She kicked, barely missing his head in the process. Keeping a firm grip on her other foot, he did the same, relieved she restrained herself that time.
Being closer to her, he could smell her better, but that wasn't a good thing. Forcing himself not to cringe, he tried ignoring the smell lingering on her. She was in desperate need of a shower. 'And food, and water... and protection...'
"Okay..." With her feet relatively clean, he moved to the next step, pulling out a tube of ointment. "This says it's pain relieving, so we'll see if that works."
Applying it to her feet, he used a new paper towel to smear it around. He hoped he was doing okay, but without help he had no clue. All he knew was her feet looked better than before, so he took that as a good sign.
Chuck realized he didn't check the expiration dates on any of the stuff. He was supposed to use stuff that would expire soon first, but he just rushed into it. He hoped Beckman wouldn't get mad at him for possibly using the better stuff first. 'Or I can just leave this stuff with Jenny so Beckman never knows.' That only brought him more conflicting thoughts.
Wrapping gauze around her feet, Chuck made sure they were completely covered before applying medical tape. "Is that too tight?" he asked, glancing up at her to meet her gaze. She shook her head, then looked at her feet.
Feeling uncomfortable, Chuck continued dressing her wound. "Can you hand me those socks up there?" he asked, thanking her when she gave them to him. With gentle movements, he slipped the socks on her feet, resting right above her ankles. He hoped that would help her heal since they were somewhat protected.
He noted her legs were hairy, but that wasn't uncommon anymore. People rarely had time to groom themselves now that the world went to shit, so he didn't comment on it. Before touching her, Chuck asked, "Can I look at the wound on your leg?"
Frowning, Jenny slowly nodded. With her help, he twisted her leg until he could get a better look, paling when he saw it. The skin around the open wound was swollen and red. Pressing a finger to the edge, he heard her whimper in pain. "Sorry," he hissed, giving her a sheepish smile. "Didn't mean to..."
He frowned. It was covered in pus and dried blood, dirt mixed in to make it a nasty concoction. "I-I don't think I can clean this." She needed medical care and antibiotics, real ones. Her wound was clearly infected, and he didn't know how to deal with that. His only thought was to ask Beckman, but he couldn't bring her to Batshit.
'Or could I?'
Letting go of her leg, Chuck stood. She flinched at the close contact, but relaxed when he walked to the bathroom. He came back with more bandages, not that he thought it would help. "This is only temporary," Chuck said, kneeling by her feet when he came back. "And it might hurt."
Without attempting to clean it, Chuck wrapped the bandage around her leg, debating what to do in his mind. He knew what he was supposed to do, but leaving her behind felt wrong. "Look," he started, standing up when he finished covering her leg. "I'm not supposed to do this, but I don't think you're gonna make it on your own."
Jenny said nothing, eyes wandering around the kitchen before staring back at him with wide eyes. Shaking his head, Chuck said, "My group needs this stuff too. I'm willing to share it with you, but what's your plan for when it runs out? He didn't want to be harsh, but he needed to know she would be fine on her own if he left.
"Have you killed a zombie before?" Chuck wasn't surprised when she shook her head. The fear she showed earlier was his best indicator. "Have you killed a person before?" Once again, she shook her head. "Have you ever killed an animal?"
Chuck jolted when she nodded. "Oh, really?" Looking down at her tiny, scratched up hands, he couldn't imagine her doing that. "Do you hunt or something?"
Jenny's 'talking' ended there. She didn't nod or shake her head, choosing instead to stare blankly at him. 'Man, she's frustrating.' Groaning, Chuck dragged a hand over his face, wincing when he touched the bandage over his poorly stitched up wound.
Knowing he was making a mistake; Chuck opened his mouth anyway. "You should come with me to my base."
Narrowing her eyes, it looked as if she was studying him, but he couldn't be sure since she was so damn quiet. Persuading her was his only option. "We have a real doctor that can help you out with that. We have antibiotics, food, shelter. We even have a bed you can sleep on."
Light flickered in her brown eyes at the mention of a bed. "There's men, women, and kids. It's pretty safe. So far, we haven't had any infected get in. We have a fence up, and we're working on building a real wall."
As she stared at him, he hoped she considered his offer. "The only problem is... you hurt me." That light in her eyes died in an instant, her head dropping. "I understand you're scared, but you can't hurt anyone at Batshit."
Pausing, he realized how odd that sounded. "Oh, 'Batshit' is what we call our base. They won't let you in if they think you're a threat, so you gotta promise me you won't hurt anyone."
Jenny looked at him, her finger tapping at her cheek. Sighing, Chuck shook his head. "I won't tell them what you did." Watching her carefully, he waited for her to give him an answer. After a long, silent minute, he said, "I don't think you can make it alone out here. Maybe I'm wrong. I hope I'm wrong, but why risk it?"
Reaching over, he took her hands in his. She tensed and jerked, causing him to let her go. "Sorry. I just..." Chuck didn't want to see more people die. He was sick of it, tired of constantly burying people.
He didn't want anyone else to die.
It would be worse for her if she died out here. There would be no one to bury her body, leaving her out to be eaten by a zombie. 'Or she might be bitten while outside and turn...' He considered that worse than actual death.
In a pleading tone, Chuck begged, "Please just come with me? It's safe there." He didn't know how to get through to her. "I'll make sure you get fed," Chuck vowed, seeing that light flicker in her eyes again. Not wanting it to die, he said, "I'll keep you safe, I promise. I'll protect you. You just can't hurt anyone, okay?"
Staring at her, he waited for her to say something. Time seemed to stand still, minutes feeling like hours. He didn't know if she was considering his offer or not, but he hoped she was. The new world was shitty, and he doubted she would last on her own. People needed to stop dying, and going to Batshit was the only way he thought she had a chance at surviving.
Finally, Jenny moved her head, nodding. "Oh..k-kay..."
Dropping his head, Chuck sighed in relief. "Awesome!" He looked back at her, a bright grin on his face. "You won't regret it, Jenny!"