Chapter 28 "Awkward"

Day 92; Group A

It was morning, and everyone was hungry and cold from the night that had passed. The RV was cold at night, and last night they all slept in the bed, desperate for warmth.

They had a little bit of food they had kept in the RV in case something like this happened — referring to being separated — and they had found a few berries and nuts around the area, but most were gone or dead as fall ripened. They were now out of food, aside from a few leftover nuts. Lyrik, Allan, and Patricia were at the couch, talking quietly as the sun rose to not awake Mika and Beth.

"We need to go on a run," Allan said, eating a pecan and tossing the shells into a bag they used for garbage.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Patricia said about it.

"We don't have much choice," Lyrik said. Allan nodded his head, causing Lyrik to smile at the confirmation that she was correct.

"Either way, we're not strong enough. What if we find a whole house full of walkers? We've only got maybe six rounds between the five of us. Maybe about seven each, actually, since Mika can't shoot very well."

"Then we run. There's no shame in running. We turn around with what supplies we have and run back to the RV and drive off."

"What if someone steals the RV while we're in there?" the older woman questioned.

"Okay, well, how about we take shifts, maybe? Three go into a house first, while one of us shifts out to watch Mika and the RV."

"That could work," Lyrik said. "Could," she emphasised.

"Let me guess, though," Patricia said, sighing. "You, of course, won't be taking shifts along with the rest of us. Because you're 'the most capable one of all you ladies,'" quoting something he had said often to them.

"Look, I'm not trying to be mean or anything, but I'm the best shot out of all of us."

"I'm pretty good, too," Lyrik pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but you're not the best," he declared, and Patricia and Lyrik gave him a dirty look. "Wait, I didn't," he said, trying to find his words.

"Save it," the dark-skinned girl said. "I know what you meant. None of us here are nearly as good as you are, and we could never be, either."

"No, I just," the man in dirty, stained flannel frowned, and rethought his words. He truly didn't mean to come off so self-centered and entitled. "I mean that I'm the surest chance we have of making it if we go scavenging, or get into any trouble. I just want to be there to make sure that no matter what we face, I can help. I can be there to keep you all safe, and make sure we don't lose anybody. I didn't mean to offend you guys."

"Whatever," Lyrik finished the argument. "It's settled, though. We're going into the nearest town, and we're taking shifts."

They headed out a few hours later after Beth and Mike woke up. They spent some time looking for more food, but had very little luck, only finding some more pecans and walnuts, further fueling the need for a run.

They loaded what supplies that had set up around the parked RV and drove it far south, past Bunker, past the next town called Ellington, and into the heart of another small town. As they drove in, they saw a sign that read, "Welcome to Winona! Small town, big people!"

"I hope that doesn't mean fat walkers," Allan joked, earning a chuckle from Lyrik and Patricia. "Those are the worst."

They drove in and began with the nearest house, working their way deeping into the town. For the first house, Allan, Lyrik, and Beth were the first ones in. In the second, Allan, Patricia, and Lyrik. In the next, Allan, Lyrik, and Patricia. The cycle continued for hours, and they got a good amount of supplies. They ended up with enough non-perishable foods to last them for the next two weeks, so long as they were careful; a lot more gas they decided to siphon from the cars they parked next to; and many non-food supplies, such as cotton swabs, matches, lighters, a few more bullets, and a few more weapons, along with other miscellaneous things.

They were on their last block, on the corner of 5th street, and everyone was complaining. "Allan, haven't we had enough close calls for one night?" Patricia asked, referring to the dozens of walkers they encountered inside of the houses, which were usually hidden or in great number, thus horrifyingly dangerous.

"Just one more building," he promised, leading them to the last house on the block as Lyrik went back into the RV, switching off with Beth. It was quite a large house, and as they approached, the moans could be heard from outside. There were many walkers.

"Can you hear that?" Beth asked rhetorically. "We should just go."

"With that many in there, they're bound to have tons of loot. Coulda been survivors. One died, it carried on, and they've been dead in there with things we need."

They both frowned to each other. Allan had a really good point. "I still don't think it's a good idea," Patricia said.

"It's fine," Allan said. He observed the house. There was a large, elevated porch leading up to the door. The house was a single floor, and wide. All the rooms were likely connected, so they couldn't take it room-by-room. "We'll open the door and let them slowly come out," he decided. "I'll hold the door, one of you put the first one down, I'll open it enough to loose its body, and we'll repeat. Simple."

"How'd you come up with that?" Patricia questioned.

"I did it long before I met you all. It was me, Kelly, and this guy, Dante trying to get out of a trailer we were stuck in for a few days. Dante thought it up. Smart man." He made it to the door and pressed himself against it. "Not smart enough to still be here, though."

He opened the door and whistled, attracting the walkers to them. He closed it just in time for the first one to get caught between the door and the outer wall. Beth went up to it and easily stabbed it through the head with a screwdriver they found a few hours ago. Allan opened the door slightly, letting the body fall to the floor and repeated the process. Patricia used a small gardening shovel to kill the walker and it sliced right through the undead redneck, cutting off the top of its head, its skull and rotten brain falling grossly to the floor and rolling around for a moment. Beth turned around and gagged.

"Please don't be like Arnold," Patricia said, gagging as well due to Beth's. "If you puke, I'm gonna puke."

Allan rolled his eyes, pretending as though none of this bothered him. "I can't hold all these walkers back on my own," he said, pointing out that he had already gotten another one hinged. "One of you get over here and put this bitch down!"

Beth picked her screwdriver back up and shoved it into the walker's head, her left arm over her mouth as she swung down. When she tried pulling out the screwdriver, she struggled. It was stuck. She began to panic as more walkers came, visible through the crack Allan held open, and they were piling up on the door. She attempted to use her left hand to grab the screwdriver, but only ended up hurting her fingers, still bandaged from when she cut them off..

"Just leave it!" Allan yelled, putting all of his weight against the door.

Beth continued to grab for the screwdriver, desperate. The weight of the walkers proved too much, and it burst open, causing Beth to scream in horror as she fell to her rear, the screwdriver still not loose. Allan was pushed back, and he reached for his gun. Allan and Patricia opened fire on the mass of walkers as Beth pushed herself backwards from them. Lyrik exited the RV to see the scene, and immediately ran to help, taking down a few. Allan and Patricia found themselves with only two bullets each as Lyrik easily got headshots on many of them. As it thinned, they took down the remaining few walkers physically.

"Is everyone okay?" Allan asked, panting.

"I think so," Beth said, cradling her injured hand.

Patricia went to the walker dead by the door and yanked the screwdriver out of its skull.

"Was it really worth it?" Allan asked, clearly angry about this.

"Shut up, you ass," Patricia warned as she handed the screwdriver back to Beth.

After taking a few moments to recollect themselves, Allan finally remembered the whole reason they did this. "Well, are we gonna clear this house, or what?"

Patricia sighed as the sun began to set. As she looked around the area, she noticed three figures approaching from the treeline to the west. "Aw, hell. More walkers."

Allan squinted at them, and became confused. "I'm not sure about that. Look at the way they're moving."

"Well, that one's missin' a hand," Patricia pointed out.

"That's why I'm not sure."

As they came closer, it was clear that they were in fact not undead. It was two male figures and a female. The man in the middle was large, with big, toned muscles, short black hair, and a chiseled chin with a matching, short beard. To his left was another man, not near as buff and a half a foot shorter than the middle man, with long brown hair up in a ponytail and only a bit of stubble. Everyone immediately noticed how attractive the two were, including Allan, who even could admit when he found a man attractive. The girl to the large man's right had short brown hair, and was at least a foot and a half shorter than the muscled fellow. She had very tan skin and appeared to be of some sort of middle-eastern European descent, such as Indian or Arab, and she was missing her right hand. They were all wearing quite dirty clothes and their hands were dark with dirt, but that was to be expected in these times.

They approached with their hands up, but they obviously had guns and knives holstered. "Hello!" the man in the center called.

Allan, Beth, Patricia, and Lyrik held their guns up, untrusting. "Who are you?" Allan yelled.

"Strangers," he said.

"Can I have names?"

"Well, my name's Taylor," the strong man said. "This is Malcolm," he shrugged his head to the smaller man, then to the woman, "and she's Sarita."

"Well, what do you want?"

"At this moment, your names. If we have to, so do you."

Allan rolled his eyes. "I'm Allan. The blonde's Beth, this is Patricia," he gestured, "and that's Lyrik. What do you want?"

"Companionship. Camaraderie. Friends. Numbers. For us to pool our supplies and strength. Clearly, you folks need it."

"Who says we don't have more people? That we don't have a camp with tons more people?"

"Well, if you did, clearly none of you would be out on a run this dangerous for this long."

"You've been watching us?" Beth asked, slightly worried.

"Don't twist it around and make it awkward. We wouldn't have approached you without getting to know a little bit about you first, would we?" Allan frowned, suddenly nervous. He wondered how much they knew. If he knew they only had a few bullets left apiece. "Switching out like that, huh? Clearly you've got someone or something in that RV that needs guarding." Beth bit her lip. "What is it? Someone disabled? A prisoner? Child?"

"It's," Beth paused, considering. What could she say that would scare them into leaving? Or that would let them know they are trustable and to not hurt them? She decided there was no way to know what they would want to hear, what would keep them safe, so she told the truth. "It's a little girl."

Taylor seemed to soften, and Beth was put at ease with telling the truth. "Well, in that case, please. For her sake, join us. No offense, but you need us. Sarita here's smart with medicine, if none of you are a doctor and need help. Me and Malcolm are strong. Good with all sorts of weapons."

"What do you get out of it?" Allan inquired.

"I already listed everything I would get. Friendship, all that. It's been just us three for a while, and we need numbers bad. You all may not be the best, but you're definitely capable. Useful. Cleared out three whole blocks of houses and an overrun house all on your own."

Allan smiled, proud of himself for being what he thought to be such a good leader. If I didn't make them clear out that last house, we might never have been approached by these people. That could be bad, but if it's good, I'm the reason we got us more useful people.

"We've got a place really close to here," Taylor stated. "Right down the street, actually. If you're all in."

Allan looked to the other three, almost ready to agree. Beth nodded. Lyrik shrugged. Patricia took a moment, but put her gun down. "We're in, then," he finally said, making sure everyone agreed.

They all got into the RV, where Beth introduced Mika to the new people. Malcolm sat up front with Allan, pointing him to the place they were staying. According to him, they had only gotten here a few days ago, coming from Kentucky. They were staying with some people they thought were good, but they then found out that they were what they perceived to be crazy and absolutely heinous.. Any person they met, they killed and looted, no matter who it was. Big strong threat, sad lonely woman, scared lost child, anyone. Taylor and Malcolm had been together from the beginning and they got out with Sarita, who they knew shared their ideals.

The place they were staying used to be a store. It had a sign above it that once read, "Winona Hardware & Building Supply," but had been crossed out and written over with the words, "NO HOPE," made in something red. They weren't sure if it was blood or paint, but either way, it was a sad thing to see.

Outside it, a few dead walkers were littered about near the treeline. "Helps keep other walkers away," Malcolm claimed.

That night they had dinner together, eating meat they had gotten from a few squirrels Taylor and Malcolm had hunted that morning and the rest of the nuts and berries Patricia had kept in the RV. They sat at the counter that was previously used for checking out customers, which reminded Lyrik of the day this all began; losing LaRissa, and later Lily, and now Robert. She pushed the thoughts away, though, to this moment. Observing the new people, and celebrating the friendship they were forming.

Throughout the meal, the girls couldn't help but flirt with Taylor and Malcolm, as they were both very attractive men to them.

"I don't know how you've kept your hands off of them," Lyrik joked to Sarita.

"Who says I have?" she retorted with a coy smile.

"Ooooooh," Lyrik said as everyone laughed. "Which one's yours? Or is it both?" she smiled widely.

"It's both," the Indian woman said flippantly, and Malcolm and Taylor both looked on with uncomfortable smiles. It felt strange being talked about like they were meat, and like they weren't even there, but they didn't want to come off as assholes the first night they spent together. After the laughter eased, she noticed their faces and corrected herself. "I've actually not been with either. I'm not exactly ready for anything like that yet," she said, drifting off, returning her focus to the berries and squirrel meat in front of her.

Beth and Patricia frowned, realizing she probably meant she had lost her significant other. Small talk continued among everyone once more, but Beth couldn't take her eyes off of Sarita's limb, her right arm cut off at the elbow. It reminded her of Maggie, and she became quite sad thinking about it. She wondered if the darker woman's arm had been cut off due to a walker bite. She had to know. When the conversation around her died a little bit, she took her chance. "Ma'am," she began.

"Sarita," the older woman corrected. "Just call me Sarita. No need for formalities."

"Right. Sarita, what happened to your hand? Not trying to be rude or anything, though."

"Oh, it's fine," she half-smiled to the blonde. "There's no offense taken. Everyone asks me about it. Do you really want to know? It's a long story. Kinda awkward."

Beth looked to the others, who looked just as curious. She nodded her head to Sarita.

"Well, it was a long time ago. Back when this all began. I was in Louisville, Kentucky, where I used to live. When it happened, me and my boyfriend Burton locked ourselves in his apartment building. We were forced to leave after a while, and when we escaped there were so many of them. One of them bit me, and I did my best to pull myself off of it. Burton panicked. We had watched other people turn after being bitten through our windows. I don't know what it was but he just acted on impulse, and instead of chopping into the walker biting on me, he swung down on my arm. At the time, I thought he had missed, or had gone mad. He had emotional problems, and I knew that. He feared being alone more than anything, and had severe anxiety. But he saved my life. We made it out of there, and I never turned. I was afraid of him for a while, but I see now that he was just desperate. That he was trying to help the one person he loved. He apologized so many times…"

"So, what happened to him?" Lyrik inquired.

"He's gone now. Obviously." Beth nudged Lyrik with her shoulder, giving her a scolding look for making Sarita sad. "It's fine," she said, noticing the guilt on the two young girls' faces. "After he cut off my hand, I got really sick. We made it to this group sometime after, and he convinced them to go on a run to get medicine for me. He talked to me the night before he left when I was asleep, and it woke me up, but I pretended to still be out. I still hadn't forgiven him. He talked about a lot of things, and how sorry he was. Made me realize he wasn't crazy. That he truly did care for me." She stared down at the table, clutching her arm. Malcolm wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close and she smiled to him. "Anyways, he left on that run. He and five other people. Only two men returned, and Burton wasn't one of them. They had the medicine, though. And I made it. They told me about the things he did, and how they had to leave him behind. A walker snuck up on him and ate into him. It wasn't savable at all. He asked them to leave him. Let him turn." Her voice quivered, "And they did."

As they continued eating, things eventually lightened up. The small-talk resumed, and they all ended on a positive note. That night, it rained, and they were thankful as ever that they were out of the RV, in the nice, warm building, all around a fireplace with people who would hopefully become friends.