I'm so excited that people are enjoying this story! I promise I'll try to update often, but...well, with school and such, it's going to be difficult. In any case, I appreciate all the faves and reviews! You guys are awesome ^_^


Despite that little voice in my brain screaming at me not to, I looked back over my shoulder to see exactly what had just occurred. I quickly realized that I should have listened. Without facing forward, I failed to notice the crack in the pavement, right up until the toe of my shoe caught on it. The next thing I knew, I was falling face-first towards the ground, the impact knocking the wind right out of me. Normally, a person would panic only due to their lack of breath; the flare of panic I felt came from the combination of that and the teensy little fact that a goddamn Infected was on my tail.

…or at least there had been, prior to the fall..

I rolled on to my back, both shocked and utterly GRATEFUL I'd been allowed enough time to gain some semblance of control over my breathing. Good Lord, for a minute there, I was almost sure I was dead, destined to be torn apart by the same rabid human who'd chosen to give chase in the first place. It sounded like it had been close, its footfalls coming in time with mine against the pavement, but when I raised my head to look, I realized just how wrong I'd been.

That nasty thing was trapped against a car, gristly wraps of flesh squeezing tight just below its ribs. Naturally, it fought that hold, but its efforts were all in vain; even I could see that from where I lay. . The bonds held tight, no sign of giving, and a croaky voice called its triumph. Struggles paused with that (a flinch of sorts, perhaps? Who could say), but in a moment, it resumed, screeching in retaliation to its attacker. The sight - I didn't know how to take it, at first.. Part of me wanted to watch, to figure out exactly what was going on over there; of course I did, people are naturally curious, I think, and even those situations that scare the bloody hell out of us pique some wonder. However, I knew better. Instead, I climbed to my feet, a bit more difficult a task than it should have been as my ankle throbbed like mad. Survival is a powerful motivator, though, so adrenaline is to thank for my ability to stumble towards the trailer at a pace akin to a jog. Quick as I could, I slipped inside,, slamming the red door shut and throwing the lock. For extra protection, I lodged one of the two lawn chairs against the handle. Because, you know, they're super-effective against zombies that want to come in.

Still, it was something, and at the time, that gave me some peace of mind. I slumped against the back wall and slid down to the floor, both arms curling around my knees to draw them against my chest. My heart was still pounding; from the run, from the chase, and perhaps most importantly, from the sounds just outside my safe spot. A sickening Crack, and I cringed. had only heard a similar noise once before, on a much smaller scale admittedly, when my sister had broken her arm falling out of a tree. God, I had always hoped to never hear it again, and yet, there I was..

Another gritty howl, and shambling footsteps scuffed over the blacktop. Closer. Closer. I buried my face in the crook of my elbow. Childish, I know, but a piece of me still hoped it would help. Go away, go away, go away!

A bang at the door drew a startled scream from me. Short nails raked over the steel, followed by familiar coughs and wheezes which echoed through the trailer. Biting my lip, I peered towards the door, meeting the ashen eye of a Smoker. It—he (I had to mentally kick myself to remember that it was still a he) cocked his head, wheezing quietly, and wrapped a swollen hand around the bar. My eyes wandered down his face to the dangling tongue. Obviously, that Common had done a number on the Smoker; nail and bite marks lined the exposed flesh, dark green fluid dripping down to the tip. I assumed it was blood. After all, what else could it be - ah, yeah, that's probably one of those things I'm happier not knowing, now that I think about it. In any case, I figured it was blood from a wound somewhere but couldn't tell exactly how bad said was—that damn Smoker was absolutely filthy—but I…wait, why did I care again?

My wishful thinking did not work, so I tried something a little more forceful. "Go away…" I all but whispered, my voice hoarse and catching in my throat.. The Infected stared at me, still hacking up a diseased lung. He shook the bars, tilting his head the opposite way, never once taking that creepy eye off me. "No! Get out of here!" I said it as if it would do something. It did not.

He looked exactly like the one I saw at the store (same clothing, same hairline, a blackened patch above that big,gray eye), so I assumed he was. Besides, most of the Smokers newscasters talked about were brown with multiple tongues protruding from them, so this one stood out. It had to be the same one. Without any other idea, I dug into the bag of candy, taking out one piece, and whipped it at the door. That placated him before, right? With any luck, it would make him happy enough just to leave. Unfortuantely, my aim sucks as badly as my athletic skill, so it simply hit steel and fell to the floor.

The Smoker pressed his face eagerly against the bars, trying to see exactly where his fallen treat had rolled. Still within sight, but well out of reach, and for him that just would not do! He hollared again, and attention fell back on me.

Damn it. The Infected was not going to leave until he got the chocolate. I knew that (at least, I was fairly sure that was the only thing he really wanted). What his fascination was with Rolos, I do not understand, but at least he was not attacking me. I would've expected that tongue to shoot through the bars, or for a particularly violent tug at the door to pull it off his hinges, but...well, thank God for small blessings, I suppose. It gave me some confidence, which may not have been the best thing in the world, now that I think on it. Cautiously, I crawled over to where the candy lay, reaching one shaky hand out to grab it. The Smoker shifted with a fair amount of eagerness, his coughs growing a bit more impatient as the seconds ticked on. He shoved a hand through the bars, appearing as if he'd meant to grab me until the very last second, when he switched to simply holding an open palm toward me.

I held the candy in my fist tight enough to squish it a bit, teeth worrying at my lower lip. He made a noise, similar to his trademark yell though nowhere near as loud, and shook his hand. "All right…" I murmured softly, hesitatnly hauling myself off the floor to stand before him.. One Infected nearby was enough, I did not want to attract any more with the sound of my voice carrying through the parking lot.. "I'll make you a deal: Don't grab my arm, and I'll give this to you."

The Smoker rasped, the bouncing tongue leaving greenish-black smears on the bars. I should have kicked myself for my stupidity at the time, but I reached a trembling arm towards him, the promised treat tucked away in my palm.. I was almost certain my teeth had punctured my lip at that point, but I'd managed to summon every ounce of courage still left in me to hover over his extended hand and drop the Rolo. At first, he did not retreat, as I'd assumed he would. It seemed like he was waiting for me to back off before he did, quite a difference from the panicky Infected I had seen not even an hour prior. When he did, though, he quickly shoved the candy into his mouth, wrapper and all. That was...right, well, whatever made him happy.

Even after he had finished, the Smoker stood outside, staring in at me. I quickly slid the bag of sweets behind my back, dropping it to the floor so I might present both hands.. "Sorry. No more." He wasn't buying it, stretching his neck in some attempted to peer around me. He KNEW I had them, and that scared me. My dog was not even smart enough to realize that her bone would still be there, even after it went behind my back. Now a zombie had figured that out? They're smart, apparently - or, at least smarter than folks had given them credit for.

Watching him, I suddenly realized that I was in range for that tongue. Maybe I should've been grateful for that, but the only thought repeating in my head was a single question: Why hadn't he grabbed me? He had every opportunity, really, and if he wanted the candy, he probably could just snatch it. Or, kill me first and take it from my corpse. Most of my information on the Infected had come from the news, for the Specials anyway. Every broadcast I watched stressed the point to avoid Smokers, lest you want to find yourself dragged up the side of a building and beaten to death before you even realized you were off the ground. They were supposed to be opportunistic, taking advantage wherever it arose.

If that was the case, what the hell was up with this one? The opportunity is there, but he's simply not taking it.

Maybe he was just hungry, was my first thought. In my opinion, candy was superior to human (or Infected) flesh, not that I expected him to share that opinion of course. I had to admit, I was not overly willing to share all my candy with a zombie. It was my last source of food for the time being. With that Smoker hanging around outside, I was not planning on leaving soon, which meant that candy had to last. Which also meant that I couldn't let him see me (or, more accurately, I couldn't let me see him), else I might be tempted to hand over a few pieces. So, I sank again to the floor and crawled over beside the door, hoping I was out of range of that tongue, should he finally deem it necessary to use it. Pressing my back against the wall, I took a deep, cleansing breath to settle nerves. You're safe in here, my mind repeated, and I forced myself to believe it..

The Smoker hollered again, and I saw some of his dark hair and bloated skin through the bars. The head tipped, pressed harder against the metal which kept him at bay, almost seeming as if he was…looking for something. Me, maybe? The candy was still on the opposite side, lying forgotten on the plywood floor - well within view, now that I had moved way -, was he so intent on seeing me? Did he still believe I had it, or maybe that he'd only get it if it came directly from me? More importantly, why in the hell did I care? He was just another infected, one I should ignore until he loses interest and goes on his way. However, Smokers are not easy to ignore. They're so damn loud it's almost impossible to pay much mind to anything else, the hacking and wheezes and gravelly sounds serving as a constant reminder of their presence. Still, I was going to try.

Tomorrow. Maybe he'd lose interest by then and wander off.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this…" I began softly, laying my head against the plywood wall. "But…" I paused. No, I was not going to finish that thought. I was going to wish him a good night, out of habit, but normal, sane people don't wish zombies 'good night'. Instead, I scoffed, holding my knees to my chest again with my face buried in my arms and cried into my lap as loud as I dared, "Why won't you just go AWAY?!"

The Smoker took a few steps back, clearly startled by the sudden noise. I heard him shuffle around on the blacktop a little, and then there was a thump against the trailer's siding. Maybe I should have been, but at the time I was not concerned. He was away from the door, and that was what mattered. Out of sight, relatively out of mind. My focus needed to be on sleep. After running around for a few days, I needed the rest. Still, I could not shake the longing for a bed, a real bed to sleep on, to snuggle into and feel safe in. Plywood in a trailer would never give me that feeling. Come to think of it, nothing would ever give me that feeling again. I was not safe anymore.

Better start getting used to it.