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Now back to Rick and Isabelle…
I don't even know what's going to be inside, but I do know that I'm probably going to regret this. But I don't care. I have to know what's in here, I have to know my story.
I pressed my ear to the door to see if there was anything inside that I could hear, nothing. It was silent.
I started to put pressure on the door, but it was jammed with something. Before I could shove my shoulder and all my weight into it, I felt a grip on my forearm.
"What?" I asked, annoyed.
"I don't think you'll like what's inside…" Rick told me out of nervousness.
"If you don't want to come with me just go wait in your car!" I shot back, "Just give me a couple minutes."
Rick shrugged and turned the other way with his arms crossed, I know he doesn't want to go back to the car, instead he wants come with me to make sure anything bad doesn't happen. Regardless, I wish he wasn't being so fucking over protective.
My weight was shoved into the door several times and with one last shove it swung open, I almost lost my balance, but the over protective southern gentleman behind just so happened to catch me before I fell.
I shook his hand off of me and continued to move forward into the living room.
I was cautious with my steps too, I may be naïve but I'm not stupid.
I took several more steps towards the living room, and to my surprise…
It was empty.
I swear this was the house. I froze in my tracks to try to at least absorb the surroundings in some more, but nothing really seemed to help. I mean sure, the house was looking a little chaotic, but it was probably because this house had been looted before.
I turned to leave, only to see Rick looking around the place. I admit, I felt a little disappointed, but at the same time relieved that there weren't any dead bodies in here or something equally horrifying…it'll be hard having to accept that I'll never really know the truth (since there's no fucking way I'm coming back here) – I suppose some doors are better left closed.
Rick caught me standing still and staring at him, "Anything?" He asked with concern written over his face. I'll also admit that I was a little bitchy when earlier, he didn't deserve that…
But I went ahead and gave a, I guess you could call, short and blunt response. And by response I merely shrugged my shoulders, childish, yeah, but I didn't know what to say.
"Do you want to check the rest of the house?" He asked me slowly, as if he were waiting to see how I'd react.
"No." I replied while pushing past him to get back outside, "Let's just go."
I get that the apocalypse was happening at the time, but do people really feel the need to clog up the freeways? For fuck's sake, this was getting old. It'll take centuries to get to Atlanta from the route we were on.
I never really enjoyed the sight of the countryside either, which was where we were currently driving. The smell of cow manure never really appealed to me.
I guess we were lucky though, since there weren't that many cows around, therefore less smells of cow shit. But at the same time that sucks since that eliminates any chances of having a nice juicy stea-
"How old are you, Isabelle?" Well that's odd. I was actually fine with the silence.
"Twenty five," I replied, "I'll be twenty six in about a month or so…" I paused for a brief moment to playfully narrow my eyes at him out of suspicion, "Why?"
"What? Can't get to know the person I'll be stuck with for a while?"
Oh, so he's gonna be like that.
I pretended to be hurt by scoffing loudly and placing my hand over my chest, "Stuck with?"
He didn't make eye contact, the bastard; he just smiled and looked at the road ahead. I huffed and crossed my arms, "You're an ass, Rick."
"And you're cute when you get mad."
I was taken aback; did he just call me cute? Was he flirting with me or was this a dream? Or maybe even a nightmare? "Cute? Keep saying shit like that and I'll be gorgeous in a second!"
I couldn't hold back my chuckle as I said that, I gotta thank the Internet for giving me great comebacks. We laughed together for a while, and the silence returned. But I decided to change that, he's the one who wanted to talk.
"How old are you?" I asked, now the tables are turned!
"Turned 30 about three months ago."
"You said you were in your thirties though!"
"I am."
"Being thirty isn't in your thirties!"
He gave out a cute laugh, "I'm sorry, are you the age police?"
I scoffed, "Hell yeah I am, just give me your badge."
I leaned over to reach for his badge, only for him to slap my wrist away, "Not when I'm driving."
I rolled my eyes, "Oh come on, not like the walkers will come after you if you hit their car."
"Now you're a damn scientist?" He a (quite sexy) crooked grin when he looked at me to see my reaction.
"Keep your eyes on the damn road, Rick!" I nagged.
"Of course you'd say that…" He trailed off to go back to driving, while I stretched in my seat and closed my eyes to enjoy the little moments of peace I'll have for a while…
"What do you miss the most?"
I yawned obnoxiously, "Oh my goooood, are we playing twenty fucking questions? Or are you trying to get something out of me to arrest me, Rick?"
"Yes and no."
"In that order?"
"That's for you to decide." He couldn't hide his smirk when replying, most likely because in the span of about half a day he already figured out how to push my buttons.
"Smartass." I mumbled to myself, closing my eyes again.
He chuckled again in response, I was actually starting to enjoy his company now even after talking to him for about ten or fifteen minutes. It was nice to not actually be alone for once, and to see him smiling. I hope he enjoys my company as much as I'm starting to enjoy his.
Probably not though, he'd been awake for a day so he's not used to being alone. I was, which probably explains why I was so bitchy to him earlier.
I feel kinda bad now, now that I think about it. But, I mean you can't blame me though, right? I'd been on my own, for how long…? Two or three weeks? I was used to having only to take care of myself and myself only. Having someone else around…it just seems like a hassle.
Not that I'm saying Rick is a hassle, I know for a fact that he can take care of himself, and he's everything but a hassle. He's a nice guy, a little too nice to be able to put up with me, but still.
I continued to stare out the window, thinking about what I'd be doing if I were home right now. Probably nothing.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard Rick mutter something under his breath, followed by the car stopping. Awesome, can't get any better than this.
I sighed, "No more gas?"
He didn't answer, but instead turned to the back seat to get a gas tank and his duffle bag of guns. I took a glance ahead of us and saw an old, worn down barn. Does he really think there's someone there?
"You comin'?" He asked as he stood in front of the car waiting for me, "Yeah! Gimme a second."
I hastily grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder and caught up to him.
We both walked down the road, it wasn't that far, and the closer we got to the house the more I abandoned the idea of someone being in there. It just looked empty, and creepy. You get the feeling I'm talking about?
There wasn't a car in the driveway, the bushes weren't trimmed very much (still looked better than most places) and the grass was growing out a bit. I mean, it wasn't like a haunted house, but it looked pretty empty.
"Hello? Anyone in there?" Rick called out, "Police officer out here. Can I borrow some gas?"
I waited behind, even if there were any survivors there I really wasn't in a friend making mood, I was more annoyed than anything. Second time in a month I've been in a shitty situation that involved a car.
"Hello?" He called out again, this time going closer to the door and knocking on the window. I dropped my bag and kept my left hand on my gun, no way was I going to let him go in alone.
I made my way to the front door next to him, and he peeked inside again.
"I'll take a peek inside the other window, Rick." He nodded to me and I left the door to move to an area with a larger window.
As I got closer to the wide window, I could barely smell the scent of dead bodies, and I pinched my nose to try to get rid of that smell. God, I need nose bleach. I don't even know if I want to know what's inside.
I leaned forward anyways, and the sight was something I wouldn't be able to forget, a man with the top half of his head blown off and his (what I assumed to be) wife on the floor with an equal wound to her head. I don't care how much training the Army taught me, the scent and sight of decomposing bodies is, and will always be, sickening.
There was something written on the wall too, in blood. I couldn't read it though because I could feel my eyesight getting blurry and becoming lightheaded. I could feel my stomach lurch at the sight, and before I knew it I was bent over and expelling what little breakfast I had earlier out of my mouth.
I gagged as my stomach continued to empty its contents, when I could feel Rick's hand rubbing my back in comfort. Lovely, I'm sure this is super attractive.
As soon as I was done blowing chunder, I pulled out a handkerchief from my back pocket and wiped my mouth. I need some water and just about every breath mint I can find.
I cleared my throat and sat on the ground, "Sorry about that," my throat creaked due to its sensitivity from my stomach acid, "I-I'm not really used to that kinda shit."
He nodded his head in understanding and took a peek inside the window, flinched a little and turned back to me, "Come on." He leaned forward with his arm extended towards me. I grabbed his hand to help myself up, enjoying the feeling of his rough calloused skin for a moment and letting my mind wander off for a second…
I cleared my throat again and we both made our way to the backyard. I reached into my bag to see if I could find anything to help my rancid breath, mints, gum, anything. I took a little sip of water, which soothed my throat pretty well and with enough bad words and pleading I found a small tin of mints in a small compartment of my bag. I love you, Jane.
We sat for a while, while I rubbed my forehead due to the small tension headache that was coming on. There was a brown and pale yellow station wagon out here, but no key. So we just sat together under a tree to relax and think for a moment.
"How are you feelin'?" He asked softly, "My head feels a little light, but I'll live." I tried to reassure him with a weak smile.
"There's a guest house in the backyard, maybe we could spend the night here and leave in the morning. You need to rest, Isabelle."
I gulped, "Stay…here? I'm fine, Rick, really, I just threw up because of the smell…"
He reached over and pressed the back of his hand on my forehead, "Your skin looks dry and you look sick."
I rolled my eyes, "Thanks for saying I look like shit in a polite way." I swatted his hand away, "Really I'm fine. We don't have to stay."
"You're sick." He sternly insisted.
"Am not."
He sighed and faced forward again, and I gave in, "Fine. We can stay, but I won't sleep the whole time, Rick."
He grabbed his bag and made his way to the guest house, "But you probably will…" he muttered under his breath.
I smiled to myself – I actually look forward to our little "sleepover" tonight.
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