Disclaimer: Not mine. :(

Notes: Second chapter for Sunday's Update! :) Cause It's a short one, enjoy!

Chapter Eight

(Fin's POV)

"Move it along big ugly."

I don't even bother to look up from the gas can I'm steadying with one hand; the long rubber hose I'm holding just past the canister's lip with the other, watching the clear liquid run into the can gauging how long I have before I need to switch to the next container. I don't want to risk spilling any of it onto the ground.

I have no idea how long Carl might need the generator to run, or how long he might need life support before I can remove him completely. Every drop counts.

I spare a quick glance for the hulking dead staggering towards me still, half his scalp is missing, like maybe someone tried to brain him and failed. He's got to be at least six foot five; and he's not exactly lean either. Whoever failed to crush his skull when they partially scalp him probably didn't live to tell the tale; I frown up at him watch him continue to drift toward me.

When he's within three feet and still hasn't veered off course I feel my pulse quicken; my heart leap towards my throat with an irrational wash of fear; but he hasn't raised his arms; isn't looking towards me crouched on the asphalt between the gas cans… he just staggers on by continuing up the roadway in the same scuffling staggered lope.

I turn back to the can on the ground just in time to pinch the rubber hose between my fingers lifting the hose's end from the lip and replacing the now full canister with another empty one. When the hose runs dry there are tiny flakes of rust in the clear liquid; floating around in a tiny suspended liquid tornado.

Normally I would have stopped the suction long before I reached the bottom of the tank; risked not only clogging the engine with rust from a tank that's been sitting for too long—but also to leave a small amount for anyone still living that happens to be stranded in this area; that's looking to syphon enough gas to get them further on up the road—away from me.

I can't afford to be that choosey right now though. Or that kind to strangers who may or may not exist.

I screw the caps on as tight as possible; until they each click several times ensuring nothing will spill and move them all to the back of the car I'm currently joy riding in, or you know whatever term one uses for a vehicle they've stolen from the hospital parking lot to make a supply run with.

I don't like leaving Carl; but the generator has barely a day's fuel left and I have no other choice. Keeping Carl asleep not only spares him the pain of his injuries while he heals; it also helps him heal faster since he's resting.

It also keeps him from fretting over the fact that it's been nearly four weeks since we left his Dad on that highway and drove away.

I climb into the driver seat, lean forward and grab the two wires I need pressing them together under the dash until the engine catches enough electrical jolt to stutter to life with a press of the gas pedal. I need something I don't have to hotwire in an emergency…and I know just the place, lucky for me it should also have gasoline; the highway is turning into slim pickings lately.

It doesn't help that I have to skirt the very outside of town as far from the warehouse as possible; also going nowhere near the highway were it all happened…not that I want to go anywhere near there really. I don't care how many unspoiled cars are jammed on that highway. It's most certainly a death trap since it's the last place they saw me. I lift my eyes from the can at my feet, check the empty roadway around me, watching each stumbling body my eyes fall on just long enough to judge their gait—assure myself that I'm surrounded by a few dazed Walkers on this empty roadway and nothing more dangerous, and it's not just strangers I now have to watch out for; but my own family as well.

I can't risk running into them like this, which is a very real possibility if I'm not extra careful according to Mika last night, turns out talking to her has been invaluable for where there are going; where they've searched and where they plan to go next. I had my doubts when I first picked up the walkie and started talking to her again.

But if she was going to tell the others what I'm doing I think she would have done it already.

I'm extra careful when I speak to her to never tell her where I am or offer her too much information about what's going on. As far as Mika knows we could be in a residential house or sleeping in the kitchen store room of a local restaurant. She knows I'm alive, and Carl is too—and that he's not well enough to speak to her.

Beyond that I try to tell her nothing. It's just safer that way: for me.

Mika on the other hand tells me everything.

They're both out here today—Daryl and Rick. Maybe Michonne too; she wasn't sure if she was going with them when I spoke to her last night…but it's a pretty good bet with how close Michonne was to Carl—and how close she is to Rick that she is out here somewhere as well, searching. And that only complicates my life further.

It's the Peacock farm all over again; the family that once took me in is hunting me now that the truth is out.

No matter how often I tell myself that it was only a matter of time before this came to pass it still stings.

After almost a year in their company and growing so close to all of them I was really hoping that it would never come to pass; that I'd finally found a safe place where I could stay…

I'm not sure if that makes me a silver linings/glass half-full kinda girl—or just an idiot.

:: Walking Dead ::