And with the memories came nightmares. Hershel had demanded that I sleep outside of the house with Rick's group, as we were all fairly new to his estate and we couldn't truly be trusted yet. No sooner had he announced it did Lori help me pitch a tent beside hers; mine was fluorescent orange and I was certain it would attract walkers. "Are you absolutely sure there are none here?" I raised an eyebrow, cross-legged in the grass beside her. Lori wiped her brow as the sun beat down on her forehead, frowning as she struggled to keep the fabric supported. The tent kept falling down, despite her efforts; everyone else was still inside eating, so we had no other help.
"I don't want to lie to you, Courtney, there's no real way to tell. Some of them stay where they should, some wander in, but all of us have sturdy gun training from Rick – one shot to the head, and you're most likely safe." Lori admitted, her brown ringlets hanging in her face as she bent down to inspect a nail.
I bit my lip and considered this, the fact that everyone knew how to handle weapons. I hadn't the slightest clue how to use any arms, given that I was raised by two peaceful parents that wouldn't dream of handing me a gun.
"Lori, do you think Rick would mind showing me how to use a gun?"
She looked up at me, a look torn between sympathy and pride; as if I were her own daughter.
"I'll ask him at lunchtime today. You're not one to waste time."
She stood up and wiped her hands, sighing in relief. The tent had decided to cooperate, and the sun seemed to lessen its flare into pleasant warmth with a cool breeze.
"I don't need to. There's no reason I can't handle myself if I'm in danger. Besides, I'll be alone soon, what with Hershel and Shane around."
"Hershel is only unsure, but not about you. All of us are under his judgment, on trial, you could say. And Shane …"
Lori's lips twisted in a funny way, and she didn't finish. Then, she sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "Well, would you mind helping me out today? We all have to do our part on the farm to stay." She shielded her eyes with one hand.
"Not at all." I said, and soon I was trailing behind her as she led me around the side of the house. There was a chicken house and horse stalls, dairy cows and horn-headed sheep, pink pigs trotting through their pen. "This is the farm part of the property. This is where I spend most of my time helping out, because there's an amazing stream nearby and the animals are friendly."
In front of the animals, there was a plot of land full of dirt. Seeds were scattered everywhere and vegetables poked up from the ground. There were fruit trees everywhere, all full of fruit ready to be picked. There were strawberry rows and stalks of grain waving in the air. "Wow … this must be Beth's garden." I breathed. "Yep, she's pretty talented. That's what she does, while her sister Maggie milks the cows. Beth's boyfriend Jimmy cares for the horses. Otis, the ranch farmhand, has a wife named Patricia and she helps with the pigs. We're all a pretty decent team if I do say so myself."
"And what's your job?" I asked her curiously as she swung open a gate leading to the chicken house. "I feed the chickens, take their eggs. We all do odd jobs when needed, too." Lori explained, as my ears filled with the ruffling of feathers and squawks of fowl. Lori clutched a potato sack in her hand, and walked back outside to see the younger chickens in their outdoors time.
As she fed the chickens, my eyes drifted to the house. A woman had stepped outside, and was starting for the farm. Her curly hair and blue eyes were serious, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun.
She obviously had to do something important.
Lori glanced up at her, and smiled. "Good morning, Patricia. What brings you to the chicken house?" She looked confused, almost offended that Patricia felt compelled to perform any task of hers.
"You too, Lori. Don't mind me, I only need to tend to a chicken we might have later in the week." Patricia nodded in acknowledgement.
With that, she brushed past Lori and entered the chicken house. Lori shrugged and continued to feed the chickens; but I wasn't finished with Patricia yet. I couldn't judge her character, but something in her voice told me that she wasn't looking for a chicken to eat later in the week.
Leaning into the chicken keep, I could see Patricia, enshrouded in shadow. The shutters left stripes of light along her back and sides, and she was bent over a nest. She was caressing a chicken, her hands flying to its legs. I felt foolish for thinking she was up to something; she probably was only examining it for dinner.
But then, there was a flick of her wrist and a feeble squawk; a sickening crack echoed in the chicken house, but none of the other stock noticed this. The chicken went limp, and its eyes became unseeing.
I turned around as fast as I could, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with Lori about the care of chickens. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see Patricia holding another potato sack.
Her arms swinging by her sides, she remained casual as she approached the barn – the barn that I had been in last night. Looking around before opening the door, she darted inside.
When she returned outside, the sack was drooping and empty.
Lori didn't notice this mysterious behavior as she tossed the feedbag back in the chicken house. "Want to see your job?" She asked, and I nodded. I followed her obediently and she brought me back out to the sheep pen. "You'll feed these little sheep and lead them to the house to be sheared. It's really important, because you can't lose one." Lori replied.
I felt a thrill at the thought of making a difference on the farm. I had to prove myself; I had to change something for the better. "That seems like a decent job, eh?" Lori smiled, and she handed me a bucket. The food for every animal is stored in the chicken house's storage room. Don't ask me why they don't use that barn."
"Is it forbidden?" I inquired, remembering the hallucinations I'd had last night. "Yes. Hershel won't tell us why, but that's his own business." She said, and she left me with my bucket.
That night, my stomach churned. The cool night air, the chirping of crickets and the sound of owls were deafening. My imagination was always active at night; it always had been. This was when I really considered my memories, the ones I had just regained.
Slowly, despite the noise and my mind racing, I drifted off and succumbed into the night.
I was in a classroom. I looked up in surprise, and saw the stern look of my eighth grade teacher as she motioned for me to continue. I looked down to see a crisp test sheet. I looked back down obediently and tried to make sense of what this test was all about.
This was strange … I didn't remember walking into the room or even getting this test.
I had just figured out the answer to one of the questions when I heard an alarm sound. All at once, the children all around the classroom stood up and started chattering away. I shoved my chair in immediately and lined up at the door, following my teacher as she led us out of the classroom and down the corridor.
As the halls flooded with middle school-aged kids, I blended into the sea. We walked at a normal pace out of the school building, making our way outside. That was when I noticed the kids in front of me were speeding up.
I struggled to keep up, trying not to fall behind and hold up the crowd. Everyone started to move faster and faster, and when one boy turned around and met my eyes, his were glazed over in terror.
I looked around frantically at everyone's faces. They were all filled with fear, their feet propelled by the urge to escape.
As I looked around, my eyes eventually fell on someone. Someone different from the rest.
Its eyes were faded and emotionless, and it was uttering noises as it stepped out of an empty room. Its movements were slow and delayed, and it looked like it was going to trip and fall each time it took a step.
A new purpose propelled me forward, my face assimilated with the same expression as everyone else. I had to get out, I had to get out. I had no idea what that thing was, but I knew I had to leave right now.
I had almost reached the door that led to the outside, frantic to step out into freedom. I was so close, just a couple of steps now …
I suddenly felt a sharp jab at my head, most likely an elbow. My head felt light and my knees weakened. I was crumpling onto the floor, struggling to keep my eyes open. But before I knew it, I had closed my eyes and fallen unconscious.