Chapter 2

Today's the day. Rhodey and I are packing up and shipping out to who knows where.

I've pretty much packed up anything of value to me: my mother's favourite lapis lazuli necklace, her wedding rings, wand (it's always good to have a spare or two), and my grandpa's grimoire.

My grandpa, before he passed, had crafted me this nifty multi compartment "trunk" that disguises itself as a backpack. Which is amazing because it will definitely become my main means for survival. Basically, it has 12 different "rooms".

The first one acts as a fridge/ freezer. The second holds my clothes, shoes and feminine products, and the third my weapons. The fourth and fifth are a fully functional kitchen and bedroom with a full bath. The sixth holds Rhodey's stuff like dog food, blankets, leashes and a few quiet toys. The seventh holds the shrunken house furniture, pillows and blankets and such. The eighth holds potions ingredients and muggle medicine that I've been able to stockpile, as well as a functional potion making station.

The rest of the "rooms" are currently empty; for now, at least. Anything can be transfigured ya know?

I know that the probability of me coming back to this house is incredibly slim. There are too many memories, good and bad, and it's time to move on.

After double checking that I have everything, I tuck my jeans into my favourite pair of hiking boots, throw my thick black locks into a ponytail and walk out the front door with Rhodey in tow.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The day starts off quietly. The hordes that show up at night always manage to thin out considerably in the mornings and today is no different. The eerie silence is punctuated only by the faint moans and groans of aimless biters.

A quick wandless 'Silencio' allows Rhodey and I to walk undisturbed. The biters can't hear us, but we must be careful because they can still smell us.

Suddenly I hear Rhodey give a quiet warning huff, and we immediately slow down and duck behind a car.

Up the road about half a block, is a man sitting on the front steps of a house with his head in his hands. Immediately I know that this guy is alive- biters don't usually have a sit down while looking like their whole world is crumbling at their feet.

Before I can even decide to turn around or approach this man, a small African American boy, about aged 10, comes up and whacks the sitting guy over the head with a shovel and he goes down for the count.

"What the fuck?" Doesn't this kid know biters don't just chill on porch steps? And whacking one on the back of the head isn't gonna do shit except piss it off. Where's this kids parents?

"Duane?! Duane where are you boy?" I hear a man quietly yell.

A much taller African American man, looking in his late 30's comes around the corner and takes in the scene before him. The father and son duo (I'm assuming) aren't talking loud enough for me to hear anymore, but I watch as the boy's dad grips the passed-out guy under the arms and begins to half carry, half drag him over and into a neighboring house.

"What do ya think Rhodey? Should we go join the party?" Rhodey huffs in answer and I take that as a yes. "Alright bud, let's go."

When we get to the door, I notice that the windows are covered with dark fabrics, and I can't see inside. So, naturally, I do what any other in my situation would do. Knock out the super Mario theme song on the front door so they know I come in peace. I mean intruders looking to harm you don't usually knock first right? Plus, who doesn't like Super Mario?

About a minute after I'm done, I hear shuffling along inside the house and I catch one of the window curtains twitching. "Hey." I call out softly. "I saw you drag that guy in there a few minutes ago. It's been a while since I've seen people and I was wondering if I could come in? It's me and my dog here, but I promise we aren't here to try to hurt you guys. I've got a bit of food if you're hungry and I'm willing to share."

The shuffling that stopped when I started talking resumes after a few seconds. Then I hear "Alright, I'll open the door, but I want you to know that I've got a gun. One wrong move and I won't hesitate to shoot you or your dog."

I grin and nod even though I know he can't see me through the door. "Of course. I'll even keep my hands where you can see them. I won't make any sudden moves either, I swear."

I hear the locks slowly turn and the door cracks open. The tall black man is indeed holding a gun, but my hands are up like I said they would be and Rhodey is sitting obediently at my feet.

To my absolute surprise, I can feel the magic radiating softly off this man and instinctually relax and let some of my own magic show too. Just enough for him to recognize my magical signature.

His eyes widen a bit in surprise. "Alright, come in, quickly now." He cracks the door open just enough for Rhodey and I to squeeze in, then he closes it and rapidly re does the locks.

As soon as I take a seat at the kitchen table he leads me to, he begins a mini interrogation.

"You're like us, right? I mean you're a witch. Have you been formally trained at all? Are there anymore magicals around here that you know of? It's been a long time since we've met up with anyone like us. I was starting to think we might be the only ones left."

I feel more then hear Rhodey huff against my leg and stifle a chuckle at this guy's enthusiasm.

"Yes, I'm a witch and yes I've been trained. I graduated from Ilvermorny 2 years ago a little bit after my 18th birthday. And no, I don't know of any other magicals in the area. My mother and I were the only ones, in this neighborhood at least, with magic. She died when this all began 6 months ago. I've been alone since."

Another huff and a cold wet nose touching my hand has me correcting my last statement. "Well not completely alone." I smile and give my good boy a scratch under his chin.

The man observes us for a moment longer before introductions are made.

"I'm Morgan. Over there's my boy Duane." Morgan uses his chin to point out the young boy I saw earlier. The boy, Duane, looks terrified really, so I send him a small wave and smile, so he'll feel a bit more comfortable. It works just a little. Duane untenses and sends me a small smile and wave back.

"I'm Indianna. But call me Indy please, and this is Rhodey." His ears perk up at the mention of his name, but he doesn't move his head from its resting place on my lap.

Next, I turn my attention to the still unconscious man. Up close I can see that he looks pretty young- in his late 20's to early 30's maybe. His face is clean shaven, but the skin around his eyes is purple-ish and his cheeks look sunken in like he hasn't eaten in months.

Just as I go to ask the Morgan if he's okay, the passed-out guy surges up with a gasp that is immediately followed up by a wince and a groan of pain. His hand flashes to his stomach and I can see small amounts of blood seeping through his shirt from a would.

Morgan immediately jumps to his feet and gets the guys attention by screaming at him. "Are you bit? You are ain't you! God dammit! Show me! SHOW ME!"

His total 180 behavior throws me off for a second, but then I catch sight of Duane cowering in fear of his father's anger, and signal to Rhodey to get him out of the room.

Only after I see Rhodey grip Duane's shirt in his teeth and pull him gently into the living room, do I focus back on the screaming Morgan and seemingly very confused injured man on the floor.

"No! No! I'm not bit! Why would I be bit? I was shot, nobody bit me!" The guy pleads, but Morgan isn't having it. "Show me then! Show me the gunshot. Now! Hurry up!"

As the man begins fumbling with his shirt buttons, I begin to slowly release more of my magic, giving off calm and peaceful vibes to both men. I can tell the injured man hasn't been infected but is in a lot of pain and being worked up is only making it worse for him.

I see Morgan begin to visibly calm, and by this point, the man has his shirt open and the bandage from his wound uncovered.

I can see a bleeding puckered, raw and angry looking wound, but no bites.

Morgan's sigh of relief lasts for about 2 seconds before he starts getting worked up again, this time about his son.

"Duane? Duane where are you boy?" But before he can start to go off again, I reach over and touch his arm.

Physical touch with calming magic always works faster and is stronger than just releasing it into the room.

"He's fine. I sent him off into the other room with Rhodey. If this guy was infected and we had to deal with it, Rhodey would protect your boy while we did."

The moment my hand touches Morgan's shoulder, all the stress and anxiety and terror he'd been holding in over the passing months falls from him, and I watch as he stands still and just breathes.

After a minute, where everything was quiet, the injured man coughs to get our attention.

"So… what's going on here? And do any of you guys have any aspirin? It feels like someone is shoving a hot fireplace poker through my side."

Morgan is still gathering his composure, so I sling my backpack off my shoulders, stick my hand it, and with a silent summoning charm, I withdraw a small unopened bottle of ibuprofen.

I shake out 4 and hand the man a bottle of water to wash it down.

I do a quick spell to determine if this guy has any brain trauma. I mean, where has he been for the last 6 months? Living under a rock? How does he not know whats going on?

The test comes back negative for head trauma, but it did pick up severe malnourishment, dehydration and the beginning signs of infection from the gunshot wound.

Im very curious as to what's happened to this man but before I could comment, Morgan beats me to it.

"Duane must have hit you harder than I thought." To my surprise, Morgan pulls out a pen light and begins a full neuro exam on the guy while asking him questions like who the last president was, a few basic math equations, and his full name and address.

He's able to answer the questions correctly, and we learn that his name is Richard Allen Grimes, but prefers to just be called Rick, and he lived in the house next door, that he was sitting on the front steps of.

"So, what's the last thing you remember? I mean how did you get shot and where have you been holed up these past months?" Morgan asks as he begins cleaning Rick's wound and preparing to bandage it.

"Well on June 19th my partner and I got a call out to, um somewhere, I can't remember where exactly. But I remember that the call was strange. Like what we'd been hearing reports of over the news in the major cities.

"A man was apparently trying to eat his neighbors. He had apparently killed his wife and teenaged son and was relentlessly going after the neighbors boy when we had got there. The guy was covered in blood and there was just a glazed look in his eyes. Like the lights were on but nobody was home ya know?

"Anyway, he wouldn't back down no matter what we did or said, so we all started to fire at him; myself, my partner and the boy's father. But no matter how many bullets we put into him, he just kept coming. Finally, someone got him in the head, and he dropped down, but another bullet was already fired and because the man had hit the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, I took the bullet to my abdomen.

"The last thing I remember after that is my partners face over mine and he was yelling something at me, but I couldn't hear what. Then nothing. Until today.

"I woke up in a hospital and it was completely deserted. There was a stretcher blocked in front of my door to keep it wedged shut. When I finally made it out of the room, everything was dark and quiet. I walked around a bit to try and find anybody, but all I saw was a door chained shut with 'don't open, dead inside' painted in blood. After that I just left and ended up grabbing an abandoned bike and riding my way home.

"My house is practically empty, and our safe room was pretty much deserted. Food, medicine, blankets, clothes and our family photos are gone. Gives me hope my wife and son are safe wherever they are. I mean, who else would bother to take the pictures off the walls?" Rick chuckles weakly.

I sit there a bit stunned, trying to process everything Rick had just told us and well it seems this guy has got either amazingly good or tragically horrible luck.

"Anyway, what happened with the war? Did we win? Where is everyone? And why the hell did you ask if someone bit me?