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Nurseratchet: I try to update as much as possible, but since you asked so nicely:
I joined Rick for a cup of coffee after my shower and moment of self-centeredness. There wasn't much to say, really. Although, it would have been nice to talk, I just couldn't think of anything to say.
The silence really got to me though, so I decided to play twenty questions with him instead, "Tell me your story, Rick. Where were you when the outbreak hit?"
He didn't say much, in fact he didn't even reply. He just kept cleaning his gun as if he didn't even hear my question, so I didn't ask again.
"I woke up in a hospital," he began, "I was in a coma for some time." I almost envied the fact that he didn't have to go through the first month of the outbreak.
"Why were you in the hospital?" Word vomit, damn it Isabelle just let him tell the story.
"I was shot in the line of duty."
"Oh." I mean, what else was I supposed to say? "...what happened when you woke up?"
"The door to my room was barricaded," he started to rub at his chest, where I assumed he was shot, "I made my way to the hallway and the doors were barricaded too, something about dead inside."
Yikes.
"I made my way home, I saw this...thing in the grass. Half her body was missing and she just kept crawling towards me," I almost wanted to interrupt him and ask if he recognized the girl, but I let him continue and I really doubted he would've been comfortable with it.
"I wasn't too surprised that my place had been broken into, I mean the whole neighborhood was basically up in flames. So I left to see if I can find anyone else. I was going around the neighborhood and last thing I remember was getting hit over the head by some kid..."
"Some kid? Just walking around?" Well, he'd get to it if you stopped interrupting, Isabelle!
"Yeah. He must've mistook me for one of those walkers, and I woke up tied to a bed."
I felt like a little kid, seriously, since I was leaning forward with my eyes wide open. I don't know why either.
"The father, Morgan, was checking me for bites. Him and his son Duane eventually apologized for whacking me upside the head. They told me their story just like how I'm telling you mine. We both had the same goals, so I brought both of them here and we raided the armory."
"Where are they now?" I could tell that other people were here recently, since I saw some men's clothes near the showers, but I'm pretty sure Rick is the only other person (alive at least) here besides me.
"We parted ways,Morgan had...things to attend to and I'm looking for my sister. I gave him some of my guns and he took abandoned truck and left." He leaned back in his seat to put his gun back together, so I assumed that he'd said all that he wanted to say, I definitely could tell there was more to the story, but it wasn't my right to butt in to his business. I thought the conversation was over and we were going to get ready to leave. That is, until he asked me the same thing.
I'll admit, I was caught off guard. I thought I already hinted that my story wasn't something I wanted to talk about.
I tried my best to not look at him and try to...I don't know, distract him? I didn't want to come off as rude, but I really couldn't bring myself to even remember my story. I started to get really nervous, my palms were becoming sweaty and I started shaking. My breaths became shallow and my heart was pounding.
Am I having a panic attack? Why was my body responding like this to such a simple question? I honestly...don't remember much of my story. Maybe that's why I didn't want to talk about it. I remember the worst obviously, but something else must've happened for me to react this way...
Rick interrupted my thoughts by leaning forward and putting his hand on my shoulder, as if to shake me back to reality. I felt sick to my stomach still, and I still couldn't look at him. "You don't have to talk about it, Isabelle." He assured me.
I gave brief eye contact and tried my best to give a smile, it was a pathetic smile, but it was enough for him to back off from the subject.
"I'm gonna go get my things so we can leave." I said sternly as I brushed his hand off my shoulder. I don't know what the hell happened back there, but I really want to make sure it doesn't happen again. Last thing I want is Rick thinking something's wrong with me and him changing his mind about letting me go with him. I know I wouldn't make it on my own.
I made my way to the locker room to make sure I had all my belongings. Extra clothes. Check. First aid kit. Check. Food. None, well that's awesome, at least I have some water. Let's see what else I have...pain pills, dirty clothes that I need to wash later, some soap and shampoo, and a pack of cigarettes with a lighter inside...
I know what you're thinking, "oh you shouldn't smoke!", well this isn't my bag. I didn't pack it. Jane did. Don't worry about who she is, your time will come where you'll learn my story. Just wait.
I fumbled with the pack of cigarettes, curious as to how people could stand to smoke these things. I pulled one cigarette out and rolled it between my fingers, an odd habit of mine when I get nervous. I felt like I was forgetting something, and there was no way in hell I or Rick would want to come back if I left something. I'd already made myself look unstable...
Perhaps I could leave a note to keep my mind off things, in case someone were to happen upon this abandoned place. I tried my best to stay quiet to rummage through the lockers, hoping to find some paper and a pen, hell even find more supplies.
First couple of lockers were...well locked, and the ones that were unlocked only had badges and uniforms. I'm pretty sure Rick had already gone through these then..
I finally found a notepad and some pens and sat down to start writing a note, unsure of what to say. So I just scribbled some stuff:
No guns or food left, by the time you get this the generator will probably be dead. I'm sorry.
Good luck
I erased the "I'm sorry" part numerous times, was I supposed to feel sorry? Rick and I need to survive too, which is why he took all the guns. Or am I apologizing for the fact that they have to live in this world?
I wasn't in the mood to think too much so I just kept it there and attached the note to a bench. I silently hoped to myself that no one would stumble upon it, simply because sooner or later this place will be crawling with walkers. Which reminded me that I should be getting my shit and leaving.
I went around the locker room once more to make sure I hadn't left anything behind, then checked my bag one last time. God damn my OCD.
I just realized I didn't have a weapon. I should probably get one from Rick, if he even trusts me with one.
Speaking of Rick, he was standing in the doorway staring at me.
"Hey, I'm almost ready to go. I just realized I needed something..." He probably thinks I'm so childish for wasting so much time.
Rick must've read my mind about the guns or something, since he reached into the duffle bag and handed me a handgun. I smiled in response, "Thanks." I felt awkward.
He looked as uncomfortable as I did, "You okay, Isabelle?" Hearing him say my name was quite comforting for some reason.
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
I could tell he didn't want to say it, but I couldn't blame him really. I would want to make sure the person I'm surviving with was mentally stable and wouldn't break down and try to kill me or even eat m-
"I'm just checking with ya." He gave me his million dollar smile and reached his hand out to help me get up off the ground. Him being a southern gentleman will never get old to me.
We were fortunate that there weren't any walkers in the vicinity, which was almost scary. Not that I was complaining, since I made my way here and have been surviving before without a weapon. It was nice for it to be finally quiet, but this was a little suspicious.
I heard some footsteps behind a metal fence, so I quickly ducked and turned around to give Rick, who was across the parking lot, a "shh!" sound. He may be a sheriff, but I have more experience with the walkers than him.
I pulled the handgun out and walked slowly to the gate, making sure not to many any more noise. I know I was trained in basic to keep a cool head in tense situations, but that didn't mean it was easy.
As soon as I stepped forward, a walked grabbed my legs and threw me off balance, knocking me down and the gun out of my hands. I turned on my stomach to try to reach my gun, but it was a good ten feet or so away from me. I could hear the walker gurgle behind me, but I had to tune it out.
Fuck fuck fuck. And I didn't want Rick shooting it, I didn't want to risk anymore walkers hearing the gunshot.
I heard him cock his gun and out of the corner of my eye I saw him about to shoot, "Don't shoot!" I pleaded desperately, only for the walker to growl and hiss at me while reaching for my ankles.
I kicked it in the face multiple times to shut it up, and then got off my ass to get my gun. I couldn't wait to finish that fucking walker. I turned only to see Rick shoot it in the head, with its brains splattering out the back of its head and on to the sidewalk. If this were happening a month ago, I would've cringed but seeing the dead walk and feast on the living desensitized you to these type of things.
I kicked the limp body to make sure the damn thing was dead. Since it stopped moving, I reached into its pockets and pulled out the wallet, a habit I developed. I'd always been curious as to who they were before they became this way. It was odd, I liked learning abut other peoples stories but I couldn't even share my own. Pathetic.
After my breathing returned to normal, Rick ran to me all wide eyed and shocked. He must be new to killing these things since he acted as if he killed a man, which, I mean he did, but this was an undead man. You couldn't see them as human anymore, but as walkers. You had to hate them, you had to have the desire to kill them, because sympathizing was the quickest way to get you killed.
He grabbed both my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, "Christ Isabelle that was too close! Are you okay? Did you get bit?"
With him this close, I never realized until now how bright his eyes were, as if there were still a glimmer of hope left in this world.
With me staring into his eyes, I didn't know what to say, I was so dumbfounded, "You took my kill!" was all that I could think of. Did I mention that I'm competitive?
I got a genuine laugh in response, it was nice.
Rick asked if it would be okay to go to his sister's neighborhood to see if there were any signs of where they were headed to. I was fine with it, of course, it wasn't going to deny a guy from finding his sister.
The neighborhood was empty and so dead. Just a depressing scene really, cars broken into in the streets, several decomposing bodies in the street whose smell I could never become used to, and raided houses. It was a little too familiar, but I pushed those thoughts out of my head.
On the way to Rick's sister's house, he told me all about her. I could tell how worried about her he really was, just by the way he searched frantically in the house. He told me all about his best friend, Shane, who was married to his sister, Lori. I kept him talking about memories of them all together to keep him optimistic, but it was hard for even me to stay optimistic when he mentioned how worried he was for his nephew, Carl.
It made things different, really, kids change everything. When he mentioned Carl I began to search frantically with him.
Something was wrong with this house, I could tell. All the pictures were missing for some reason.
"Rick," I called his name, and I didn't expect a response. I walked over to the living room, where he was sitting with his face dug into his palms. He looked defeated, and I stood there like an idiot, unsure of what to do.
"Rick," I said in a soft voice, "I need to know something," I began, he looked up me with red eyes, "all the pictures are gone for some reason...do you know what's up with that?"
"No...pictures?" He started, I was scared for a moment, I was scared he'd yell at me for wasting his time with my insignificant findings.
He practically jumped off the couch and made his way to (what I assumed to be) Lori and Shane's room, I followed him to find him sitting on the bed observing empty frames.
"Rick, I'm sure Shane is taking damn good care of Lori and Carl, he would never let you down or put them in harm's way." I studied the room quietly, it wasn't too disheveled but it was obvious people were leaving in a rush. Just why were the pictures missing...
"If your sister like every other woman she probably took the family pictures with her when they were all leaving. They're all probably safe, like I said, and heading to the CDC." I took a seat next to him on the springy bed, I was never good at comforting, but hey I was trying my damn best.
I put my arm around him and pulled him closer, I don't know why either. It felt right. He tensed a bit at first, but relaxed and we stayed like that for a little bit, it was different to say the least.
"I just wish they left a note." He mumbled.
"They were probably in a rush to get out of here," I replied quietly, I didn't want to ruin this tranquil moment. "They're probably safe."
He sighed and got up without looking back, I admit I felt a little hurt but I thought nothing of it. We're still strangers trying to survive, nothing more, nothing less.
I placed the frames delicately on the dresser and met him at the doorway, where he was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. I really hope he believed what I told him.
I was expecting just a quick "thanks" with his lovely accent...why did I just say that? I meant with his normal and average accent. Nothing special to it. Just a regular old accent that anyone would have. I can't let myself get caught up in his looks, which happened to be very nice and-
Is he hugging me? Oh god, hug back you idiot! I wrapped my arms around his back, but not too much so I wouldn't come off as creepy or anything and released my arms as quickly as I put them there.
The weird thing was, he still had his arms around me, to the point where I started to blush. I cleared my throat to try to I guess wake him up and snap him back to reality.
He pulled back and opened the distance between us again, "Thanks." He said, "I really appreciate it."
"No problem, should we be going now?"
He walked to window and checked outside for any walkers, "Yeah, I think we should head out to Atlanta. That'll be our best chances for an evacuation."
I nodded my head and followed him out of the house, but stopped to look at the house across the street. It looked all too familiar, it couldn't be.
I quickly made my way across the street, ignoring Rick's confused glance. I started to knock on the door, hoping she was alive and would answer. No response.
I turned the knob only to feel a firm grip on my shoulder, "What are you doing? You don't know what's inside!" Rick whispered in an alert tone, while trying to prevent me from entering.
What was I supposed to tell him? I couldn't even remember the house too well myself, but I felt obligated to enter.
"You don't have to follow me, I just...I just need closure." I turned my back to him and slowly entered the dark house, with him trailing behind.
Next chapter will be a prequel to this story. Thanks for reading! 3
