A.N: Alright chapter two is actually getting into Nora's story line. Clearing up any confusion, chapter one was set in the future! Tell me what you think! -D
"Nora! Stop!"
I hear a deep voice shouting from behind me, but my legs keep moving, my boots pounding the earth beneath me as my lungs burn for more oxygen. I can't stop though. No way, not now, that would mean death, or much worse. A bullet screams by just barely missing my leg and I quickly change direction, dodging and zigzagging between trees, my eyes straining to find a safe place, any place to hide
-C'mon Nora, think. You can't run forever. My mind screams at me, along with every muscle fiber in my body.
I continue to run for another hundred yards or so, before I see my opportunity. A tree with a branch hanging low enough for me reach. Giving a very short glance over my shoulder, I don't see my pursuers but my ears can still make out the far off crunching of leaves and the faint gunfire further beyond that. Barely sliding to a halt at the trunk, I jump, feeling the rough bark beneath my palms before hauling the rest of my body onto the branch. From there, I climb quickly into the cover of the leaves, moving as quick as I dare until I'm sure I'm nearing the top.
Sitting in a small niche between the trunk and a large branch, I bring my shaking hands to my mouth, urging my ragged breathing to slow.
"Let's go, man. If Garreth finds out the bitch got away, he'll kill us both." I hear one of my attackers say to the other, and my heart twinges at the familiar voice. Through the leaves, I see the two men who had been my friends when I was brought into Terminus. And now, they were trying to kill me, because I found out what kind of monsters they really were. I watch as they jog right past my hiding place, continuing on a straight path, one with a pistol and the other holding an assault rifle. I sit in the tree for few more minutes, long after they had disappeared into the forest before I make my way down.
When I finally reach the soggy ground, I double over, my stomach purging what little food that was left in there. My mind couldn't seem to wrap itself around what was happening and apparently neither could my body, it wanted to get rid of as much of that God awful place just as badly as my brain wanted to forget it. Wiping my mouth on the sleeve on my hoodie, I pull the hunting rifle from my back, making sure it hadn't gotten damaged. To my dismay, my machete and pistol were both sitting in my room, leaving me with only the long range rifle and a small dagger that hung from my belt.
"Damn it all to hell." I mutter, slinging the firearm across my shoulders once more, looking to my left and then my right, wondering which would be the best bet. I remembered watching the group from the train car run towards the left gate when shit hit the fan, but after Garreth had given the orders for my containment, I hadn't really had the time to check in on them. I search the ground for a moment, looking for any kind of disturbed terrain but the wind rustled leaves yield no viable clues, leaving only gut instinct, and a little bit of hope, to will my body to the left.
I walk in silence, taking in the sights and sounds, for what seems like hours but when I look at my watch, I'm surprised it's only been a little over an hour and I still haven't found any kind of land mark to center myself except the sun. And the sun itself was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the boiling, inky black clouds that threatened to the give way at any moment.
-Alright, shelter. It's not cold right now, but walking around soaking wet isn't the best idea. I think to myself, once again searching for any kind of place that I could wait out the impending storm in relative safety. From the weather, biters, and humans.
The wind picks up substantially, whipping my sun-bleached blonde curls painfully across my cheeks, and causing the tree tops to sway and creak, as if the entire forest itself was getting ready to come alive around me. I feel a solitary rain drop hit my nose, and I know I'm quickly running out of time as I begin to jog towards a clearing in the maze of pines.
Pulling the black hood over my head, and kneeling down in a brush thicket, I pull the rifle off my aching shoulder and peer into the scope. Through the magnified glass, I see a ramshackle cabin, overgrown and barely noticeable due to the thick kudzu that has taken up residence, camouflaging nearly half of the small house under it's unruly vines. Yet, it was perfect to me. I saw absolutely no sign that anyone, living or otherwise, had touched this place. Hell, maybe since this whole thing started. I pan the rifle to the left, seeing nothing unusual, and then to the right, which yields the same undisturbed view. After standing, I shoulder my weapon and ease away from my cover, listening intently through the wind and watching the surrounding forest carefully until I arrive at the back doorstep.
I kick the door three times, and wait. Wait for any signs of life to come from within, wait for any signs of biters lurking as well, and when I'm satisfied with the silence, I turn the old brass knob slowly. The old door squeals open on rusted hinges, and I cringe, holding my breath before entering the dim space in front of me. My eyes adjust to the darkness after a few seconds and I take in my new, very dusty, surroundings. In one single room, I found the approximation of a living room, dining room, bedroom, and kitchen all crammed into the tiny space. Yet, it was homey, in an odd and back woodsy kind of way. There were a couple of deer heads mounted on either side of the old TV, a battered tan couch with a warm looking blanket thrown, haphazardly, over the arm, and a big plaid recliner that definitely looked inviting.
The 'kitchen' was more like a set of cabinets, with a one-eye gas burner hooked up on one end, a dirty microwave on the other, and a stainless steel sink settled in the middle which had become the home to a rather large cobb spider. Finally, nestled in the corner was a twin size bunk bed, and a small dresser decorated with an antique of a lamp. As I walk around the small space, I hear the wind howling through the pines outside and a crack of thunder seems to shake the entire house.
Making my way to the back, I find a single door, after giving the piece of cedar a good kick, I lean close, listening for anything at all but am answered with nothing. Turning the knob, the old door reveals a simple bathroom. A white pedestal sink, toilet, and a very tight, definitely one person shower takes up the entirety of the room. I all but sprint to the shower, swatting away cobwebs and reach for the faucet,
"Please let there be running water, please!" I beg quietly, turning the dingy chrome handle.
As the water purges itself from the long since used pipes, I squeal in amazement. Rusty red at first, the water clears up and just as I begin jumping up and down from the excitement, something even more incredible happens. The water grows warmer until it's practically billowing steam from the tiny bathroom.
"Thank you, Lord!" I announce loudly, reluctantly turning the piping hot water off, forcing myself to wait until after the storm to take the much needed shower. Even though things were safe, and close to normal at Terminus, the water had never gotten above room temperature. And that was on a good day, so the thought of steaming water brought a smile to my stained face as I exited and made my way to the kitchen.
Rummaging through the drawers and cabinets, I come up with a can of Pork-N-Beans, some rather stale saltine crackers, a box of matches, and few candles which had been used before. I'm sure on just this kind of day, as well.
- Well, probably without the dead walking around, but close enough. My mind snidely comments, always bringing me back to reality.
After lighting the candles, I turn my attention to the one pot gas cook top. My brain forming the connection that the little cabin had it's own propane tank somewhere, buried beneath the kudzu no doubt, as a flame neatly came to life underneath the metal grate. Stabbing my dagger through the metal lid of the canned beans, I sit it directly over the flame, not bothering to find a pot, finding myself much too tired and hungry to care. As the beans begin to heat up, I move to the dresser, in hopes of finding a decent change of clothes but only uncovering a mans camouflage shirt and a few pair of sweatpants.
Rocking back on my heels, I plop down on the cedar planks beneath me and pull my worn combat boots off. Sighing as the fresh, cool air breezed over the angry blisters, I gently rub them for a moment, thankful to stretch my toes out as I pull myself up. After grabbing a small rag from the sink, I retrieve my dinner from the stove and pull a spoon from one of the few drawers before lowering myself into the big recliner. Trying to savor the delicious sweetness, I eat every bit slowly and deliberately, stopping only to fill my canteen with water before continuing. After polishing off half the crackers, I find myself staring at the candle I sat on top of the TV. Watching the flame flicker and dance to no discernible beat, exhaustion takes over as my eyes grow heavy and my body begins to numb and my brain becomes muddled and sleep finally draws me away from the world.
