"Gonna have to keep movin'," Merle's voice sounded weak. That second wind had passed through and I knew it was going to be up to me again to drag him through Atlanta.
"Where are we going?" I assumed going back to camp was out of the question. They had left him for dead after all.
"Dunno. Not here," His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but snapped open when something pounded on the door.
With a few swings I managed to break the window open. I was aware that glass had torn my hand in several places, but there was no time to worry about that. I broke out the jagged pieces of glass and climbed through, helping Merle after me. Just as we got out the walkers burst through the door of our temporary safe haven.
A peculiar sound rose above the walker's growls and our own heavy breathing. A car. Merle started down the alley towards the street and I followed, unsure of whether or not this was a great idea. Sure, we needed help, but how much could we trust people?
The vehicle barreling down the street was a black pickup truck. There were several men inside, armed to the teeth. We stopped in the middle of the road, which I didn't think was the greatest idea. I clutched Merle's shirt in one hand, looking back at all the walkers now moving in our direction. If these people didn't help us we were going to be eaten alive. A hammer and a screwdriver weren't going to get us out of this.
The truck screeched to a halt. Some of the men who got out aimed their guns at the walkers, but the ones who had been in the cab came for us. To my surprise, Merle held his arms up in surrender.
"We don't want no trouble. Just need a little help is all," He sounded smooth and slightly sarcastic, as always. That tone of voice always seemed to make things worse.
I didn't get a chance to gauge their reaction before something slammed into the back of my head. My knees buckled and I found myself on the ground in the blink of an eye. I'd caught myself with my hands, making the wounds on my right hand even worse. Before I could raise my head a see what happened something hit me again. This time the world spun briefly and then faded to black.
I felt like a great pressure was weighing down on me. My head was swimming up from unconsciousness, but I couldn't open my eyes. Bits of memory started coming back. A wave of dread overcame me when I recalled the world ending and being trapped in Sam's clutches. For a moment I allowed myself to shrink away from waking. I didn't want to open my eyes and find myself in that tent. Then, time started catching up with me.
I saw Sam's broken body on the street from a high up view. I saw a hand in a bloody puddle. My nostrils filled with the sickening odor of burning flesh. I heard the screech of tires.
My eyes flew open and I fought to keep them that way. I could see now that I was in a room. It appeared cleaner than those I'd seen earlier in Atlanta. I could tell I was in a bed. Once I was able to keep my eyes open I looked down at myself. I was mostly covered with a pale green blanket. One hand was bandaged and there was an IV stuck into the top of it.
Was I in a hospital? How was that possible?
A clicking sound had me turning my head so fast the room spun. When it all slowed down I was able to focus on a plump woman entering my room.
"You're awake," She smiled and closed the door gently behind her.
"How are you feeling?" She walked to my bed busied herself with examining me.
"Fine," My voice came out scratchier than I'd expected and I coughed. The woman hurried away and retrieved a small, paper cup of water from the other side of the room.
Running water? What is this place?
"Here you go, dear," I took the cup from her and downed the contents in seconds. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was.