I woke up late the next day, something that wasn't all that unusual anymore. The sun was blazing down against the fabric walls of the tent, heating it to the point where it seemed like I was going to melt.
I tied my hair back with the bandana before leaving the tent.
Glenn was the first person I noticed, sitting alone in one of the camping chairs, his head resting in his hand. I couldn't tell whether he looked tired or depressed, but both crossed my mind, so I proceeded with caution.
"Are you okay?"
Glenn raised his head, giving me a retained smile. He was quieter than usual, but he nodded quickly as he straightened up. "Yeah, yeah. . . I'm just a little tired, that's all."
"Because of Atlanta?" The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them. I hadn't meant to be so forward, but it had been on my mind since he told Shane the day before.
"You heard?"
Good job, now he knows you were eavesdropping.
I cursed my stupidity.
My lips pursed. "A little bit."
Glenn's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything for a few moments. I could tell that he was trying to think of an answer that wouldn't worsen the situation. "You shouldn't worry about that."
I reached back, rubbing the back of my neck. "It's kind of hard not to. . ."
Glenn nodded to the seat next to him. He almost looked guilty, but I didn't understand what for. I sat down next to him, leaning back in the chair.
"Oh!" Glenn's face lit up, standing up quickly. "I got you something yesterday."
He jogged over to the RV, grabbing his bag sitting on the stairs to go inside. He rifled through his bag when he walked back over, moving around items to find what he was looking for.
"I picked this up in Atlanta yesterday, but I never got the chance to give it to you."
In his hands was a book, and I could only read the cover when he handed it to me. His Dark Materials. It was a dark blue, with a shadow of trees in the background. A girl rode a polar bear in the centre of the page.
"I found it in the fantasy section, and. . ." He trailed off for a second, the pitiful look crossing his face again, only this time it was different. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong, which I hated, but Glenn looked like he didn't want me asking about it. "I don't know; it just seemed like something you might enjoy."
"Thank you, Glenn," I smiled. "This means a lot."
"Also," he glanced over, forcing a smile again, "I think it's set in England."
"You're not letting the fact that I'm British go, are you?" I jokingly frowned.
One corner of his lips twisted up into a small smile, and he leaned forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. It looked like it was taking a lot of energy to keep the expression on his face. There was a sadness behind his eyes that I had never really seen Glenn show before.
"Obviously not," he said. "I just thought it was funny, and I know that Dale's books aren't that great, so I thought it would keep you occupied for a while."
I laughed at the comment on Dale's books. Anyone in the camp who tried to read them always gave up halfway through. Then again, half was overselling it. It was the same as the books I had to read back at the house.
"Okay, I should go and help Shane," Glenn says finally. "He was talking about going to fetch water from the quarry."
"Bye, Glenn."
I held the book in my hand, turning it over to read the blurb. There was a quote written in white at the top of the cover. 'Without this child, we shall all die.'
As I was inspecting the book, I heard another voice.
Dale poked his head around the side of the motorhome. "Theodore, could you come and help me with this, please?"
"Sure thing," I heard T-Dog's voice from behind me. I felt my ears perk up, and my head snapped to look over my shoulder at T-Dog, making sure that I had heard the voice correctly.
"Theodore?" I felt the corners of my lips twitching up into a smirk. "Is that your name?"
He pursed his lips, stopping in his tracks and turning to look at me. "It is. But I'd appreciate it if you could call me T-Dog."
Fat chance.
I nodded my head, a grin taking over my face. "Okay, Theodore."
He pulled a fake scolding face before turning to go and help Dale with what he wanted. I noticed the two of them standing around the front of the motorhome where the engine was, so I stood up to join them. The grill was open, giving full access to the engine.
"What's wrong with it?" I asked.
I already knew, but I really just wanted to know what he was doing.
"The radiator hose is broken, and I am going to see if I can Jerry-rig it," he glanced back over his shoulder. "Oh, Jerry-rigging is when—"
"—is when you use the materials you have to fix something," I interrupted, crossing my arms. "Yeah, I know what Jerry-rig means."
"Why do they call it that anyway?" T-Dog wondered aloud. "Who's Jerry?"
"You don't want to know," I muttered, having no intention of explaining the history behind the term.
Dale looked somewhat impressed at my answer but still taken back by my tone. I didn't mean to snap; I just hated when people assumed I didn't understand the simplest terms.
"Well, if you know so much, then you can help out," Dale grinned, "can you grab that duct tape for me, please?"
I frowned but did as was asked. I held the book under my arm and grabbed the duck tape to give it to Dale.
"You know, insulation tape would probably work better. It would take longer than duct tape to burn out."
"I never thought of that," Dale, again, seemed surprised, "I should ask Glenn to look for some. Thank you."
I nodded. "You're welcome."
I decided to leave Dale and T-Dog to fix the motor home. As bored as I was, fixing the radiator house would only be a quick Jerry-rig until they could find another one that fit, which didn't seem likely at the time.
My hand reached up, and I placed my fingers against the back of my neck. My skin felt scratchy and hot. I wasn't sure how I didn't notice before, but the skin on my face and arms felt the same way. I glanced down at my arm, pulling the sleeve of my t-shirt up a little. There was a faint line where the shirt had been, and the top of my arm was red. I was starting to burn up, which didn't surprise me. I burned easily. It wasn't too bad; I just needed to cover my skin before it became any worse.
Turning around, I made my way to Shane's tent, keeping my bag. Inside was the grey hoodie, which I pulled on over my head. I knew that wearing the hoodie would be unbearably warm, but it was better than hiding from the sun in a tent. I just needed a way to stop my skin from burning.
I noticed Daryl heading toward his camp on my way back to the motor home. I had never spoken to him, and he didn't make any eye contact as he neared. I heard him mutter something as we passed each other, but I couldn't make out the words. He stopped and called out. "Hey, kid!"
I turned around to look back at him.
"Where'd ya get that?" He questioned.
I was confused at first, so he pointed at me, and the only thing I could guess that he was talking about was my jumper. My eyes trailed down to the badge on the top left of my hoodie. He was staring directly at the logo. The logo from the garage my dad owned stitched into the front of my hoodie. So far, he was the only one that noticed it, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I looked back at him, a proud smile creeping its way onto my face. "It's from my dad's garage. Have you been there?"
Daryl didn't answer. He just stared at me for a moment and then peered around the rest of camp, almost like he was looking for something. I stood there awkwardly, just staring at him expectantly.
". . . Have you?" I asked cautiously again, afraid he didn't hear me.
Daryl's eyes returned to me, "I went there . . ."
I smiled at him once again. "Cool!"
My mouth opened to ask him another question, but Daryl had already turned around to walk away.
"Oh. . . kay?"
I was too confused to realise how sad I was at the time. I went over it again in my head, wondering if I had said anything wrong, while I slowly continued my pathing to the motorhome.
For the next few days, I read the book a chapter at a time to conserve it for as long as possible. Glenn said I didn't have to because he'd found another book, but nobody was comfortable with him going on runs alone after what happened in Atlanta and how many sick people there were. I heard Shane talking about sending larger groups back into the city, so at least then they had people to cover them.
It was late afternoon, and I was sitting at one of the tables with Sophia. We were both sitting there drawing on some lined paper that Dale found tucked away in a drawer.
Sophia leaned over and looked at my piece of paper. "What is it?"
I frowned. "It's a flower."
"It is?"
"Yes!" I answered defensively. "What else would it be?"
Sophia only laughed in return, outright telling me that whatever I had been scribbling looked nothing like a flower. I squinted and turned my head to the side, hoping to make out the shape I had intended to draw, but it only got worse.
I was about to comment when I noticed Carol nearing the table. "What are you girls doing?"
"We're drawing," Sophia answered for me.
"Can you tell Sophia that mine looks like a flower?" I questioned.
Carol only laughed as she moved around me to get a better look at what Sophia was doing, but when she did, I noticed a bruise that was sticking out from under the short sleeve of her shirt. This was the second one, different from the last one I saw.
I had to ask. "Carol, what happened to your arm?"
She scrambled for an answer for a second, avoiding my eyes. "Oh, I don't remember. I probably just hit it on something."
The bruise wasn't faint. It wasn't something you would get by hitting your arm on something. Nodding my head, I looked away, making it seem like I was going back to my drawing as I tried to work out what was happening.
Was she lying?
I sat in silence for a moment as I let all the thoughts rush through my head. This wasn't the first time I had seen a bruise on her. Nobody ever seemed to say anything, but Carol often had red marks on her arms. Not even she acknowledged them. I never questioned it, but it was happening so often that I got worried.
Is Ed doing this?
Glancing over at Sophia, I tried checking to see if she had any bruises either. I couldn't see any, but it didn't stop me from worrying. If Ed was hurting Carol, what would stop him from hurting Sophia. Immediate anger filled my chest as my head ran through the whole situation.
Ed never seemed like the nicest person, not that I had ever really spoken to him. I often tried avoiding him because he seemed so mean. When I was down at the quarry, the thought crossed my mind, but I never really believed that he would do anything like that. I didn't want to think that was the case.
I was interrupted by my thoughts by Carol speaking.
"Come on, Sophia," she gently patted the back of Sophia's shoulder, "we should go and do some homework now. I think Lori and Carl have already started."
"Okay," she stood up and started walking away from the table, waving goodbye as she headed over to where she and Lori usually gave the kids different school problems.
Before Carol left, she turned around to face me. "Thank you for watching her."
I gave a smile and nodded, watching her leave.
The thoughts flooded my mind again. I knew I would have to talk to Shane about it. As a policeman, he would probably know what to do in these situations. I also knew that my mind wouldn't let it rest until I could try and make it better.
I stood up and marched around the camp until I could find Shane. He was sitting in a chair by the ham radio, head resting in his hand.
He glanced up when he saw me. "Hey, kiddo, something you need?"
"I was speaking to Carol just now," I started, unsure of what to say. "She had bruises on her arm. I don't know; I think Ed might be hurting her."
Shane didn't answer, but he didn't have to.
I frowned. "Do you know anything about that?"
Shane's gaze peered around the camp as if he was checking that nobody was around. There was a pause before he gave his answer. "Yes."
My eyebrows knitted together. "You haven't done anything?"
"I'm assessing the situation," he answered in a lowered voice.
I shook my head in confusion, my mouth agape. What the hell did he mean by assessing the situation? "How long have you known?"
"Long enough," he answered quickly. "I need you to keep quiet about this."
"He's hurting his wife, maybe Sophia, and you're going to do what? Watch?"
"I'm trained to deal with this," after seeing the look of utter confusion and irritation on my face, he let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, listen. Let's say that I do something. I talk to Ed. Then he's probably going to leave, take Carol and Sophia with him. If they leave, then there is nothing I will be able to do."
"They could stay, and he would leave," it seemed so obvious to me.
Shane shook his head. "Can you be sure of that? Can you be sure that if he leaves or I kick him out, that Carol wouldn't follow?"
Why would they?
"If she's getting hurt—"
"—it's not that simple," he interrupted me. "If it were, then something would have been done a long time ago. If Ed leaves and Carol decides to follow, so will Sophia. You already know how rough things are out there. If something happens, he loses his temper and takes it too far. That's it. They're alone. Out there. But here, we keep an eye on them, something happens, it can be stopped, and they have help."
"Then don't let them!" I cried desperately, loud enough that Shane hushed me standing up. "Or keep him away from them, something. You're a cop!"
"How exactly would I enforce that?" Shane questioned. "Cuff him to a tree until we find help? Lock him in the RV? And again, what's Carol going to do about this? She has to agree to that. We can't help her if she doesn't want help."
I couldn't think of an answer, but there had to be something that could be done to fix the situation. I felt my teeth clench, and I looked at the ground, raking my mind to think of anything.
"Right now, the best thing we can do is to make sure that they're safe."
"Yeah," my arms crossed over one another, "safe."
Shane let out a long breath, running his hands through his hair. "I understand that you don't like it. I don't either. But for now, that's all we can do."
Shaking my head, I felt my hands go limp at my side. My chin lowered to my chest as I avoided Shane's eyes, feeling the anger and confusion burn inside of me. Instead of saying anything else, I just turned around and stormed off in the direction of the camp.
"Fine," I muttered to myself.
Shane called my name but didn't say anything else after that. I marched towards my tent to grab my iPod and listen to music. Anything that would distract me from what was happening in the camp.
The iPod screen lit up.
87%
While in the tent, I felt fidgety. I rolled onto my side, facing the wall and looking through the iPod for anything. I didn't understand most of what Shane was saying. Why would Carol want to leave with Ed? Wouldn't she want Sophia to be safe? I didn't understand, and it made me more agitated as I thought about it.
After a while, when I was getting hungry, I went to the motorhome, seeing everyone had gathered around the campfire for food, sitting in their respective seats. When I grabbed some food, I sat down while holding my iPod in my hand, scrolling through the different songs.
"Okay, y'all. We should talk about something," Shane squatted down in front of the fire, looking between all the people that had gathered when everyone sat down for food. "There has been no sign of the military yet, but with the sheer number of geeks in Atlanta, it isn't surprising that they're taking longer than expected. So until we can make contact, we still need supplies."
Everyone sat in silence, mulling over the idea.
"I've asked Daryl and Merle if they could hunt for the group, but Merle graciously informed me that it still wouldn't be enough," I felt a grin appear on my face at the sarcasm in Shane's voice. "So we're going to have to start thinking about runs again, but we can't send people alone anymore."
"So, we need a group?" Andrea questioned.
"Not a big one, just enough that if anything goes wrong, then there are people for cover," Shane explained.
Dale sat forwards in his chair, "and when would this run be?"
"We have enough supplies for now, but in a few days at the latest," Shane ran his hand over his head, "Glenn has already offered to go, and he says he might know a safe way in and out of the city. We just need a few more people."
"I'll go," T-Dog volunteered after a pause.
Morales shared a look with his wife, and she gave a nod. It seemed like they had already spoken about something about this happening. That seemed plausible because I didn't believe that Miranda would agree with something like that unless she had time to consider it. "Me too."
The rest of the people in the group looked between the others as they mulled the idea over.
Andrea raised a hand under her blanket. "I guess I can."
Amy's eyebrows scrunched together, and her head snapped to look at Andrea. "What?"
"This safe path," Lori started turning to Glenn, "how safe is it? Is it a guaranteed thing?"
"Most of the alleys have been blocked off; not many geeks get through. If we're quiet, then we can sneak by," Glenn explained. "The most I have ever seen there are like two or three at a time."
I would have offered to go myself, but I knew no one would allow it.
I plugged in my earphones, droning out the conversation. They already knew Atlanta wasn't safe. Why would they plan any more runs into the city? The town I was in was quiet. Easier to move around. I didn't know the areas around here well enough to recommend any better places, but they did.
Instead of hanging around, I stood up and left the group with the Rolling Stones blasting in my ears.
It was still dark when I woke up. Everything felt heavy and stiff as I sat up. My hands balled into fists that I used to rub the sleep from my eyes. It was cold. I was still wearing the hoodie from the night before.
I patted the ground next to me, looking for the camping light one of the members gave me. When I found it, I sat up on my knees and slowly unzipped the door of the tent. The air was crisp, and the camp was oddly quiet. I always heard people talking around the fire late at night, but the familiar orange glow was nowhere to be seen. How late was it?
Clicking the button on the torch, I pointed it at the ground to see where I was going. I started making my way to the middle of camp to see if anybody was awake.
Nobody was there. They must've all been in bed. I sat down on one of the camping chairs around the burnt-out fire. I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged my legs. I was glad no one was awake; it was hard to be alone anymore with so many people in the camp.
I rested my head on my knees and pointed the torch around camp. There was a metallic glint when the light waved across the disassembled motorcycle, and I could still see some of Dale's tools scattered along the ground.
Don't even think about it! He'll kill you if he finds out that you touched it.
I kept my torch pointed at the bike, waving it over all the different parts. I wiped my cheek with my sleeve and kept my eyes on the bike. I wanted to fix his bike, I didn't have anything else to do, and maybe he'd stop complaining about it if it was fixed. It would be a nice distraction if I could just take a look at it.
Looking over my shoulder cautiously, making sure no one was there, I stood up. I walked over to the bike. Most of the parts were in the same place from a few days ago. All were randomly spread across the floor. It was like being in dad's garage again. He never kept anything neat, and he wondered why he could never find anything.
I sat down on the ground and loosely tied my bandana around my wrist. Next to the bike were all the various parts. I settled on checking the battery first, as they were usually common troubling occurrences in the bikes.
I made a sound of annoyance while I looked around for somewhere to put the torch. I couldn't leave it on the ground, or I wouldn't be able to see. I placed the end of the torch in my mouth, pointing it at the battery to tell what I was doing.
There was nothing wrong with the battery, as far as I could tell. I shrugged and pushed it away from me to give myself some room.
I took a glance at some of the parts on the floor, wondering which ones could've been broken. If Merle had already checked them, then I had to assume that he found nothing wrong, so it couldn't have been any of them.
Maybe the alternator?
I reached for the tools and started removing the cap from the alternator. The inside of the alternator was coated in a thin layer of rust, and I frowned, trying to scrape some of it off with my nail. I stared at it for a moment before wondering what I was going to do.
"Where am I going to get a new diode?" I muttered after taking the torch out of my mouth. You could clean them, hope for the best . . .
I huffed, unscrewed and pulled the diode from the alternator and grabbed a rag from the floor. I sat back on the heels of my feet, scrubbing the rust from the diode. The rust had been building up for a while, so I couldn't just wipe it away. I didn't have any baking powder like before, so I couldn't deal with it the same way I dealt with the circuit board.
I glanced around, noticing Dale's toolbox on the ground. Maybe Dale had something. I crawled to the toolbox, and a bottle of WD-40 was hidden under some tools. Grinning, I reached in and grabbed it. Something's finally going my way.
I grabbed a rag from the ground. One that I assumed Merle had been using for the rest of his bike before spraying the WD-40 onto it. I moved back to where I left the alternator and the diode and grabbed the small piece to clean the rust with the rag. When I assumed that it was clean, I picked the torch up off the ground to check it before scrubbing it again for a few seconds.
Now I just had to dry it.
I unravelled the bandana from my wrist, it being the only dry cloth I could use to dry the diode. After, I cleaned and dried the alternator, leaving my bandana on the ground when I moved to put the pieces back together.
That should be it, I thought as I placed the alternator back and put the wire back into place. I screwed the cap back into place and turned towards the rest of the parts scattered along the floor.
I started putting all the parts back into their places; there was no point just leaving it all now. It had been so long since I had worked on a motorcycle, but it felt like I had done it every day. I still knew exactly what I was doing, and I just let myself run on autopilot until all the parts were back where they were supposed to be.
Fuck. Merle's going to be pissed. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad; the bike is fixed now. He'd been pissed off and screaming at it for days.
I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind and stood up. I picked the torch up off the floor and pointed them at my hands. They were covered in patches of grease, my fingertips completely black. I grabbed the rag off the floor and wiped my hands with it until most of the oil was gone as far as I could see.
I noticed the sky starting to get brighter, and I knew that it would be pointless to try and go back to sleep, so I made my way back to the middle of the camp, taking the torch with me.
It was only around two hours before I saw anyone.
"You're up early," I heard Glenn's voice first.
"Couldn't sleep," I answered, not completely lying.
Glenn nodded and patted my shoulder when he stood up. "You want something to eat?"
I gave a nod, pulling my legs up on the chair, watching Glenn as he quietly entered the RV, so he didn't wake anybody. He came back out with two full bowls, handing one to me with his usual smile.
"There you go."
"Thanks."
We sat in silence for a while. I just sat there picking at my food, pushing it around the bowl with the spoon. When Glenn finished, he moved to place his dish in the washing-up bowl. He sat back down on his chair, leaning back on the seat.
More people had woken up at this point, and they started crowding at the motorhome, talking to the other group members while they waited to get some food. When I turned back to Glenn, he looked at me with a frown on his face.
"What's that on your arm?" He asked.
I placed my bowl on my lap, turning my arm over to see what he talked about. Some of the grease from the bike was smudged across the back of my arm. I rubbed at it for a second before pulling the sleeve of my hoodie down.
"I don't know," I lied.
Glenn didn't get any time to answer before he was interrupted by the sound of yelling across the camp.
"WHO THE FUCK'S BEEN MESSING WITH MY BIKE?!"
Okay. . . a week was a lie. I got busy and this was a nightmare to edit. Just saying now but I'm not a mechanic and I am researching to give some details when Ace is fixing things.
Hope you all enjoyed, and the next chapter will be out at some point (not making promises anymore)
