Off to the Races
Disclaimer:If this story gets a good response I'll set it on a priority list, if not it'll likely collect cobwebs like half of my stories on here. I own nothing that pertains to AMC's hit-show, The Walking Dead, I only own my OCs (Original Characters) and a bit of the plot line. Enjoy!
2.
"Woah, woah! Just put the gun down and we can talk about this like grown-ass men!" Griffin yelled, his hands up in the air in a defensive position. The man holding the shotgun cocked it back, his eyes narrowing even more before he spit at the ground just at Griffin's feet. Keira shook all over, her knees begging to give out as another man held a handgun to her temple; her eyes were the size of golfballs as she watched her brother try to calm down the situation. Tears streamed down her cheeks in hot lines, she hiccuped. The handgun dug deeper into her temple, and she could feel the man's grip tighten around her wrists; she yelped. Griffin's eyes casted back towards her before wiping his head back around, his cheeks aflame and his teeth showing: "Look, my sister is no threat to you! Let her go!"
"Do ya'll really expect me ta' believe you just stumbled upon our lil' encampment 'ere?" Another wad of spit was thrown on the ground before he moved around Griffin, his eyes trained on her brother's head, "ain't nobody wanderin' this far out in the woods!"
"Are your ears that clogged that you ain't even listening to me anymore you hick?" A sudden flick of her capture's wrist, and a burning pain shot up her arm. Her legs gave out from underneath her and a loud scream left her throat before it was covered by a hand; tears prickled at her eyes once again.
"Shut your mouth boy, my son o'er there 'as quite the temper."
Griffin ground his teeth into his bottom lip, not daring to open his mouth for a retort. Keira cried, her wrist and arm painfully throbbing before biting down on his hand, causing a hiss and a string of curses from behind her; a sudden pain in the back of her head made her cry out again, and the darkness consumed her.
How had they even gotten in this situation in the first place?
"Griffin," she started as she shifted her back on her shoulders, "can we take a break? We've been walking for God knows how long." Griffin gave no inclination he had even heard her as he rounded a few more car bumpers. She raised an eyebrow at him before carrying on; she did not plan on getting left behind again. It had been a few days since they last slept, a few hours since they last took a break, and even longer since they ate. Keira's stomach growled and just as her hands went to clamp around her abdomen, Griffin turned around and they both stopped in their tracks.
"We'll stop for a few minutes, take a drink and eat something; however, we have to double time it afterwards. The sun is starting to set and we don't want to be out on the main road when it does." Keira nodded her head in understanding, but let out a soft groan. Griffin went into the military as soon as he graduated college, around the time he turned twenty-two, and had eight years of training under his belt. Keira had no training, nothing that could help her with killing zombies or walking twenty miles in a day; if it wasn't for her older brother, she'd be dead right now.
It wasn't the annoying buzzing of her phone that woke up Keira, it was the painstakingly loud voice of her mother bellowing up the steps: "Keira Josephine Lovett, get your scrawny ass downstairs and get some breakfast into you! God forbid Grandma Caitlyn comes and sees how much weight you've lost, again." The last part was a murmur that was said under her breath, but Keira still heard it. Her mother was always like that, always wanting to make Keira the perfect girl - the perfect housewife - she even said that Keira going to college was a waste of money and time.
"Keira! Listen to your mother, come on downstairs. She even made pancakes today!" It was her father yelling up the stairs this time. Keira's eyes fluttered open (she hadn't even noticed that she closed them,) and turned to her night stand. Her clock read 8:09 in blazingly red color; Keira stretched her arms over her head, watching as her nightgown's sleeves rolled down before standing up and slipping on her house slippers. She took her time, as she always did, to slip on her robe and tie her hair up into a messy bun. Even if it was still relatively early in the morning it was already getting hot and almost sweltering; sweat threatened to drip down Keira's forehead as she made her way down the steps.
Her father sat at the dinning room table, at the head, with his newspaper out and his eyes skimming over it. The front page read NEW FLU VIRUS, EVERYTHING HITS THE FAN. Keira sat beside her father, making sure that his and her eyes made minimal contact as her mother slid the plate of freshly made pancakes in front of her.
"You going into work today?" Her mother questioned, sitting just in front of her and laid the material napkin on her lap. Her mother was the very essence of eloquence and beauty. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, her eyebrows perfectly plucked and arched, even her nails were perfectly manicured and colored; her dress was neatly pressed and her apron hid away her mother's growing stomach, "I'm telling you, I absolutely hate the thought of you working in a mechanic's shop, especially with all those nasty men."
Keira cut her pancakes, "I know you do Mom, you go out of your way to tell me almost everyday," her father made a grunting noise in the back of his throat before he flipped the page, "it's hard finding a job with an electrical engineering degree, but I'm putting in at all the plants. I'll get a job soon Mom, away from the mechanics and away from you." Keira pushed the plate away from her, slid the chair back and made her way upstairs.
"I just want the best for you, don't you know that?" Her mother called after her, "that child. I swear all she wants is attention and pity; she acts like I'm a monster." Keira slammed the door behind her, the vibrations bouncing off the walls of the house before stripping off her robe and pajamas. She slipped on a fresh bra, pulling a teeshirt over her head and a pair of white shorts over her thighs. She pulled on socks and laced her tennis shoes before grabbing her purse and running down the stairs, "Keira, sit down. Please, like we used to." It was her father's pleading voice that reached her ears, but she didn't dare turn around. She opened the doors and left.
"There's our girl!" Mack yelled out, enveloping Keira in a bear hug, even lifting her up off her feet, "we didn't think you'd make it in girly, especially with your momster." Keira smiled, even laughed as the large burly man lifted her up and put her down. Mack was the owner of the auto-shop and her second father; he was fifty-four, ever so the biker-dude that her mother warned her about, and one of the sweetest men to ever walk the earth.
"Yeah, well I just love this place too much to stay away."
"I knew it, it's because of my dashing nephew isn't it?" Keira rolled her eyes before punching Mack's bicep playfully; he frowned and rubbed his bicep lovingly, "Jesus, you been lifting lately?" The teasing tone was almost unbearable, but Keira punched him again.
"Shuddup, for the last time I do not like Houston; he's such a jackass."
"I heard my name, someone call?" Houston leaned against the mustang sitting in the garage, oil smudged on his forehead, and the sweat stained his shirt. His cocky, egotistical smirk played on his lips, but Keira knew better than to say anything about it.
"Oh you heard Jackass? Who said you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks." Keira handed Mack her purse, rolled up her sleeves, and walked over to Houston; pushed him aside and looked at the mustang's engine. She grabbed the wrench, a clean rag, and got to work on the old engine. Houston watched over her shoulder, trying to make conversation and watching Keira's hands cranking the wrench.
"God your thighs are massive," Houston started again, "can't wait to have them wrapped around my waist sweetheart."
"God, I almost forgot how much of a pig you are."
"I didn't even start on your massive tits, Kiki." Keira pushed back, off of the car before sliding her hand back and dropped the wrench on his foot. A string of curses left his mouth before he lifted his foot up to his groin and rubbed it, "Jesus fucking Christ Keira, I was just kidding."
"You do this everyday, just shut up already Houston, I have to go work on Mr. Brown's pickup." She rolled her eyes and left the mustang, the cherry red pickup was on the opposite side of the garage and was waiting for her in all it's glory.
It had been a few hours since Keira's and Houston's interaction, and he avoided her like the plague. A few more of her coworkers came in, all helping around the garage; Keira was covered in oil, sweat, and grease. She loved it the feeling just because her mother hated her getting dirty.
"Kik, you have a phone call! Sounds like a guy, he's asking for you." Mack called out from the office. Keira walked over quickly as she wiped her hands on her rag, her name embroidered along the edge. She grabbed the phone from her boss and raised it to her ear, "Hello?" She leaned against the counter, the wire stretching across it.
"Keira? That you?" She knew the voice, even though she hadn't heard it in a while, "I'm coming to see you, that okay?"
"Griffin? That you? Haven't seen you in a while." Her voice was shaky and nervous, it was her brother; she hadn't seen him in what? Eight, nine years? Maybe longer.
"Yeah, it's me. Mom told me where you worked... can I come see you?"
"Yeah, that's... that's okay. See you soon?"
"Yeah." She hung up first. She was shaking, and when Mack called her back into the garage she could feel the flush of her cheeks.
"'ey Kiki, I'm going out to lunch. Mr. Brown will be coming by soon."
Keira nodded her head and watched as Mack left, even Houston was watching from behind her. "Looks like it's just me and you." Houston called out in such a sing-song voice that it made Keira physically ill.
"Oh shut up you worm." She pushed past him and went back to work on Mr. Brown's pickup. He just needed an oil change and a new battery, nothing too complicated and nothing she couldn't handle by herself. It was ghastly quiet in the garage, even Houston was silent and the only sound was coming from the radio "Blue Moon" by Frank Sinatra rang throughout the concrete building. God, she loved this song; she swayed her hips to the beat, and even sang along with the lyrics. It was a low groan that broke her rhythm, and when she turned on her heel she saw Mr. Brown at the opening of the garage. His head was hung down (probably because of the heat) and his hands were at his side.
"Mr. Brown! You're early, you're car is over here; I'm just prepping the engine." She saw him stagger her way. A smile was placed on her lips before she turned around and greased up the nozzles so it'd be easier to turn later if there were any problems. She heard him just behind her, his feet shuffling on the floor, "Nothing too big going on. Just replaced the battery and changed the oil."
Suddenly hands were on her, pulling back so she connected against someone's chest. It was the guttural moan that was breathed into her ear gave her chills and she screamed loudly, looking over her shoulder when she saw Mr. Brown was not Mr. Brown; well, it was, but it ... wasn't. His face was sunken in, his eyes fogged over, and the stench of death hung on his breath; she screamed again as his jaw tried to snap down on her neck. Using the palm of her hand, she shoved it up into his chin and jarring his head back. His hands let go, and she stumbled back.
"Houston!" Mr. Brown got up again, getting down on his knees and grabbing her leg, "Houston!" She cried out again, watching as the man watched with large, wide eyes, "God damn it Houston! Please!" She used her other foot, kicking it into Brown's head. She did it over and over again, tears stinging at her eyes. She watched as Houston turned the other way and ran. She let out a sob. He left her, left her for dead.
Brown's hands crawled over her legs, she kicked and kicked until she managed to jar his head back again; his neck gave a sickening crack, but he kept coming at her. What?
Her mind raced. That couldn't be possible, no it couldn't; she froze. She watched Brown's jaw come down.
Another sickening crack, and this time Brown's head went down. She was covered in blood, and she let out another scream. She was cut off by a masculine hand covering her mouth.
Griffin stood in front of her.
"Come on." He mouthed.
Griffin used a two-finger signal, pointing at a crowd of zombies along the road. The sun had fallen behind the hills, behind the forest, and now they were stuck between two large groups of zombies; it was either going into the forest or sticking it out underneath one of the cars. They chose the forest.
"Follow me," Griffin mouthed to her, the vein in his forehead pulsating before he ducked and rolled into the gutter at the side of the road. Keira watched as a few of the zombies turned around, hearing the clanking of some pots and pans Griffin had in his bag; she took little to no time in following her brother with less tucking and rolling. When she reached the gutter she followed Griffin as he made his way into the forest. Her face was scratched and made bloody by the twigs snapping against her face, but she raced behind Griffin as she heard the groans and cries of zombies behind her.
"Run!" Griffin said to her, his voice never breaking or raising. Keira ran behind him, almost loosing Griffin as he kept running; his long strides and her short ones never matched up. Suddenly they came into a clearing and Griffin stopped. Keira peered around her brother, only to be shocked by what she saw.
A gun barrel was pointed in their direction.
"Stop right 'here."
Keira's eyes fluttered open, a pounding in her head and a pain spreading over her body; her vision was blurry and fuzzy, the streaming of light coming through whatever was above her strained her sight even more.
"Ah, you've finally woke up." Keira turned her head towards the feminine voice, the straining in her neck making her groan in pain. God, she hurt everywhere. A cool, wet rag was pressed over her forehead and eyes, clouding her vision and helping with the throbbing pain, "I'm sorry for my son's stupidity, just protecting the camp; however, he got a whipping. Should never do that to a lady, especially one so pretty." Another rag dapped at her collar bone and the hallow of her neck, the cool water dripping down the cavity of her chest and over her shoulders, "you remind me of my daughter. God rest her soul." The woman put some pressure on Keira's wrist, making her hiss in pain, "oh poor girl. Don't worry, I was a nurse. Your wrist is fractured, we'll have to make a makeshift brace for now." The cool rag was lifted off Keira's skin, and her wrist was dropped. Her eyes finally fluttered open once again, this time her vision clear and less-cloudy; the woman stood over Keira, her fraying brown hair tied into a tight bun.
"I'm Christy, my son Joseph did that; I must apologize for him, and for my husband." Keira's throat was parched, and her lips stuck together as she tried to speak.
"Griffin?" She gasped out, her voice was hoarse and dry; it burnt to talk, to even utter a single word. Christy cocked her head before glancing towards the right, and Keira followed her gaze. In the center of the clearing was a fire pit, and there was her brother sitting beside the man that held the gun in their face just last night. The young boy, the one that held her hostage, was cooking something of the pit and just happened to glance up. He said something and she saw Griffin look up as well.
"Keira!" Griffin got up and ran over, enveloping her in a huge hug and she could hear his heart pulsating against his ribcage, "oh my God, I was so worried. So very worried." Before she knew it, Griffin was placing kisses on her forehead and then on her cheek, and she could hear him start to sob, "I thought..." Keira placed her hand on his head, playing with his hair and petting at it as well. Her eyes widened, she had only seen her brother cry twice in her lifetime: once at his wife's and daughter's funeral, and the other when he woke up from a coma.
"What happened?" She gasped out, Christy excused herself before walking over to the pit. Griffin held her close, his heart never slowing and sobbed quietly into the crook of her neck, mumbling 'oh God's and 'I thought I lost you's.
"Joseph hit you over the head and suddenly the zombies came rushing out of the forest, God those things were everywhere. People died, at least five; we all thought you got bit. When... when I found you, you had one of those things next to you, it almost got you Kiki."
"Why am," she coughed into her hand, the burning intense now, "why am I not... dead?"
"Oh God Kiki, I thought you fucking died. Don't ever do that again." Christy walked back over with a cup of water in her hand. She handed it to Griffin and watched lovingly as Griffin helped Keira sip at the water; the burning pain soon subsided.
"Maybe Joseph shouldn't have hit me," she mumbled, cradling the water in her hands before looking up at Griffin, who seemingly agreed as he sent a hate-filled glance back at the young boy.
"You have to understand that my son and husband were doing only what was right; we haven't seen any survivors besides you two since we got this little group together." Keira nodded, raising a shaky hand to push back her dirty blonde hair before Griffin handed her the cup; his chin was set in place once again, and his eyes were dried. He nodded at Christy before walking back to the middle of the encampment. Keira placed her feet on the ground, attempting to follow him, but Christy pushed her back onto the cot.
"You may have a concussion, you need some rest. Get off your feet for a few hours," Christy took the now empty cup from her and helped Keira lay back down, "now close your eyes and rest, just don't fall asleep. That's the one thing you don't want to do if you have a concussion." Keira nodded, her throat still burned and her head still painfully pounded. Christy made a noise of appreciation and walked back towards her family.
A few hours later, Christy came back with more water which Keira drank greedily; her lips were chapped and raw, the cool rush of water helped ease the burn. It was getting close to dark, and Keira bargained with Christy to let her get up; truth be told, she was getting restless. After the zombies came from every nook and cranny all Keira ever did was walk and walk, run occasionally, and hide; there was never a chance were they could sit down and make a fire, to sleep under the stars, and even to sit around and talk. It was too normal. After these past two weeks Keira had gotten used to never staying in one place for over a couple hours, Griffin had pounded in her head that it was essential that they always move on; staying in one place for so long could prompt a zombie attack, and Griffin wouldn't have that. Not at all.
Keira walked over to the middle of the camp where a small fire pit lay, a few lawn chairs, and a couple prop tables; a few people loitered around, and Keira couldn't help but glance nervously over at Joseph. Griffin patted the ground next to him, just a little bit away from the fire and under a tree. Of course, Keira walked over and sat next to him, looking over at Griffin's face; his eyes were swollen, but otherwise clear and his cheeks were sunburnt, even the bridge of his nose was dotted with sun spots. His lips were cracked and bleeding, something that Keira knew was a tall-tell sign that he had been biting them, "I've explained to Greg and the others that we won't be staying long," he rung his hands in front of him, "but Christy said that you had signs of a concussion and that we should wait a few days; how are you feeling?"
His anxious aura passed over Keira, making her bite her lip and pick at her cuticles, "Honestly?" he nodded his head, "I'm pretty light-headed, nauseous, and have a painful pounding in the back of my head; Christy said I have a bump there, a gash too, and I'll need stitches to close up to wound so it doesn't get infected." Griffin nodded and looked up at the sky, leaning against the bark and closed his eyes finally.
"I was afraid that you'd say that, but I don't want to push you to the point were you get sick and I can't help you," he rung his hands again before opening the eye closest to her, the corners of his lips upturning slightly, "I guess we'll rest for a few days here, but not any longer. Sound good?" Keira shook her head vigorously, and cursed herself when her head got jogged because of it. Griffin raised the open side of his palm over her head and ruffled her short hair before grasping the opposite side of her head, forcing her to rest against his shoulder, "God, I'm glad at least I have you still Kiki." He brushed his lips over the top of her head, and Keira relaxed into him and closed her eyes. It had been awhile since her brother had been comforting, someone she could lean on; in fact, the last time she could remember that he was like this was when he was in his early twenties.
"Me too Finn."
The sweet sibling moment was soon over when Joseph came over, a nervous look written over his features. He stood at the foot of the two siblings, "Look my Ma told me I should come an' apologize for hittin' you over the head an' all." Griffin released Keira and pushed himself up. When Griffin stood a nose length away from Joseph, his hands curled into fists, and before Keira could even say anything, Griffin pulled back his fist and punched Joseph. Joseph stumbled back, a loud pained gasp left his mouth, and blood left his nose.
"'Ey what the fuck is wrong wit' you boy!"
Joseph raised his hand, stopping his father in his tracks before looking up at Griffin, but locking eyes with Keira, "I am sorry though, I don' know if you believe me, but I am." Keira got up on unsteady feet, and grabbed Griffin's hand as he went to go after Joseph again. Looking up at Griffin, who was looking down at her, she shook her head.
"I could've died." Keira said simply.
"I know, I am sorry... really." He held his bleeding nose in one hand and the other shoved into his pocket. His eyes looked over at Griffin this time, and saw that Griffin's nostrils were flared.
"Okay." Keira said back, not telling him whether or not she forgave him. God forbid if she was angry at a boy who knocked her over the head, and left her for dead when the zombies attacked. Griffin grabbed Keira's hang and dragged her back to the cot that she had been laying on before hand, and watched as Christy made her way over to her son, throwing a sorrowful expression over her shoulder at them. Griffin didn't dare look back because he almost feared that he was going to feel remorse for sucker punching the kid; Keira grasped at his hands, tugging him down beside her.
"Don't be sorry," Keira started, staring at him with a full blown scowl etched on her mouth, "he could've killed me, or worse. You know?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he pulled his hands away from her tight grasp before wiping his bloodied hand on his pants, and the sweat that came with it, "he's just a kid though." He pushed his hair back, smoothing it over again before looking at his sister, "he's still a person. You know? It's not like.. like a zombie or nothin' it's just. Never punched a kid I guess; it's always been the bad guy." Keira's hand soothed over his back, hushing him before he fell back on the cot. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.
"I came over to stitch up that gash," Griffin sat up off the cot, looking at Christy with a non-trusting gaze, "by the way you broke my son's nose, my husband is pretty uppity about it," Christy sat down on the other side of Keira, setting down her sewing kit before rolling up her sleeves and untwisting a bottle, pouring some on her hands before soaking the needle in it as well, "you better watch yourself or else you won't be welcome here anymore." Christy took Keira by the shoulders and turned her so Keira was staring at her brother, "any who, hold your sister's hands; this will be painful."
Tears streamed down Keira's face as she rubbed the painfully pounding piece of her head before grasping her brother's hands, squeezing the life out of them, "I hate stitches. Remind me to never be dumb again."
"That's a lesson I'll remind you of everyday if you want," Griffin scoffed, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles harshly yet comfortingly, "how are you feeling now?"
"Tired."
"You can sleep if you want, I'll see how long you have to keep your stitches in."
"Always in a rush to move." Keira mumbled before laying down on the cot, hissing as her stitches rubbed against the material of the cot, and moved her fingers over the wound lovingly, massaging at the tender skin that surrounded it.
"Get some rest, I'll wake you up with some food later, okay Kik?" She nodded, biting her lip before turning over on her side. She batted her eyes open and closed before her mind completely shut out the pain, quietly lulling her to sleep.