Chapter 3: Mother Don't Worry
Time stilled as I sat there, flat on my ass, staring in incomprehension at the man across the stream. The air lay frozen in my lungs, my heart stood motionless in my chest, the very turn of the world had stopped. I felt as if I was having an out of body experience, like I had somehow landed in the twilight zone because there was no way this could be real. Distantly, I felt myself blink and watched in a detached fascination as the man blinked back, eyelids falling and rising in slow motion. Blood oozed down my right temple, thick and slow as molasses and I had the distant thought that maybe I was hallucinating; maybe those peaches had been rotten and this was some kind of drug induced vision brought upon by my loneliness and desire for contact with another person that didn't end in me bashing skulls in. Or maybe…maybe this was all a dream and I was sleeping somewhere in a tree, just waiting to wake up.
Maybe none of this was real and I was back in my bed in Dalton, warm and safe and happy.
But then, like the shot of a gun at the beginning of a race, a bird cawed in the distance, shrill and loud and all too real, and time hit the ground running. My illusions and delusions of normalcy shattered as everything slammed into me at once and in the span of three seconds, I became aware of three things: one, the man on the other side of the stream was not a hallucination; two, this dick had just shot me in the head with an arrow, by the looks of his lethal crossbow; and three, I wasn't about to stick around and let him do it again. No food or water was worth the risk. This man was human, yes, the first I had seen in over a month in fact, but he was also a man with a crossbow and I am only a seventeen-year-old girl stuck in the middle of the woods…alone. Even before the end of the world, this is not the best situation to be caught in. Now, the only thing worse is if a horde of walkers just popped out of nowhere and decided to charge me.
But that was a whole matter entirely.
Back to my current predicament, I needed to get the fuck out of here and that means as of ten seconds ago. In that moment, that precious second that I resolved to get the hell outta Dodge, something, fear, terror, perhaps determination, must have shone in my visage because the man suddenly took a step forward, raising a hand as if to tell me to stop.
Yeah fuck you dude.
Scrambling up, running on pure instinct, I dove to the right, rolling behind the tree my pack rested against, and grappled for my sword that rested beside it. Panting I crouched there, heart racing in my chest and blood dripping into my eye, and suddenly I heard the man call out, loud and echoing. When I didn't respond, the sounds of numerous curses blending with the racket of crunching leaves, snapping twigs, and the of splashing water reached my ears and my eyes went wide as I realized he was crossing the stream.
"Shit!" I cast my eyes about looking for an escape, sliding my pack on as quickly as I could manage. What I saw wasn't promising. The trees of this part of the forest, while numerous, were widely spaced out, small clearings dotting the immediate area. Five minutes ago, I found the sight beautiful, picturesque almost. Now, I cursed the very freaking Earth because every spacious plot of dirt was just another opening for the son of a bitch to shoot me in the back. "Speaking of my soon to be murderer," I thought with a frown, hysteria making me feel a little lightheaded. "Where the hell is he?" The loud splashes of the stream had faded to its previous gurgle and the vulgar curses had fallen silent. Where had he go-?
Before I could even finish the thought, a twig snapped sharply to my left. "Well, now I know where he is." And it was way to close for my liking. Flinging my gaze to the right, I decided that I would vault over the Harris children's graves. There was a small clearing behind it but if I could clear that, the forest was denser in that direction. Taking a deep breath, I made to shove myself up and into a sprint, but before I could even move out of my crouch, a hand came out of nowhere and wrapped itself around my chin, just missing my mouth.
And in that instant, my mind went blank, the world faded away, and the only thing I was aware of was the feel of calloused skin against my face, the power of that grip, and feel of hot breath on the back of my neck. I reacted on instinct, not even consciously thinking as my muscles recalled the self-defense moves that had been drilled into me so long ago.
"Do the unexpected. It will keep you alive longer."
Sensei hadn't failed me yet.
So, taking a deep breath, and knowing that, whoever this fucker was, he was expecting me to fight, thrash and scream, if his quieting and restraining hands on my mouth and around my waist were any indication, I did the exact opposite, just as I had been taught.
One second I was stiff and rigid as a board, every cell in my body screaming at me to fight, and in the next I forced my body to go completely and totally limp.
It was as if all my strings had been cut; every single one of my muscles went lax and I slumped in the man's grip. "Fuck," I heard the bastard grunt, not expecting the brunt of dead weight to suddenly appear in his arms, as I slid closer into the circle of his arms. Perfect; part one accomplished. Now for part two. Gritting my teeth against the pain I knew was to come, I snapped my head back as hard as I could, waiting for the impact.
I wasn't disappointed.
The man's nose gave beneath my skull with a sickening crunch and I felt the familiar warmth of blood splatter against the nape of my neck. "Aw fuck," the man shouted, the words muffled and wet. Distracted by the pain, I could feel his grip loosen. I knew my last chance when I saw it and I wasn't about to let it pass me by. So, taking advantage of the man's lack of attention, I threw myself out of his arms, stumbling on the uneven dirt due to my momentum and the throbbing in my head. For a horrifying second, I thought I was going to go sprawling into the dirt, my center of balance thrust too far forward. However, at the last moment, I managed to right myself, fingers brushing the dirt as I stuttered into a sprint.
I didn't look back as a vaulted over the Harris' graves and burst into the clearing beyond. I didn't even look back when I heard the man scream after me. Feet pounding the ground, heart pounding in my chest, I ran as fast and hard as I could, my pack slamming into my shoulders with every step. I tried to ignore the discomfort, the burning of my lungs and muscles, the blood that was still streaming down my face but the funny thing is, no one ever mentioned that it was damn near impossible. When you're in pain, sprinting marathons are not the best remedy to rectify that. I bore it though, bore it and bore down as I ran faster and farther, bobbing and weaving through the trees as I, quite literally, ran for my life.
In the next moments, I was aware of nothing but the pound of my feet and the sting of branches as they whipped past my cheeks. Nothing else mattered, not my pain, not where I was heading, nothing. Right now, I needed to put as much distance between that man and me as I could; I'd worry about where I was later. With that mentality in mind, I kept running, kept moving, kept surviving. Just as I had always done and just as I always would.
Finally, when the burn of my lungs became unbearable, and my legs throbbed from the exertion of what I'm sure had to be a few miles worth of sprinting, I chanced a quick glance over my shoulder, keeping an eye out for trees in my peripherals.
Nothing met my gaze except the greens and browns of the forest. The man was nowhere to be seen.
Relief flooded through me as I realized I had out run my pursuer and a grin of joy split my face. I'd done it. Holy shit…I had actually out run him. "And to think, I hadn't even made the track team back home." Throwing my head back, I laughed in elation, whooping in triumph as my feet transitioned from my full tilt sprint to an easy walk.
"I don't see…nothin funny…'bout this shit."
Heart jumping into my throat so fast I chocked on my gasp, I snapped my eyes open to see my pursuer standing not ten feet from me, sweaty and panting as he glared daggers of death at me. Ice flooded my veins as I screeched to a halt, chest heaving and eyes wide. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck," I thought as I took in his livid expression, magnified by the blood gushing from his nose, and the crossbow that lay in his hands, ready to execute me. "Shit! I'm fucking screwed." I should have known that me escaping easily was…well…too easy. At least for me. Easy and my life never found themselves in the same sentence after all.
But that didn't mean I was going to give up. Far fucking from it. I did not come this far just to be killed like a damsel in distress in the woods by some asshole. Biting my lip, I began to backpedal, mind trying to find another escape route; any other escape route. The man saw this and scowled at me, the blood on his face turning the already intimidating expression gruesome. "Hey! Don' ya go fuckin runnin off again. I'm not chasin yer ass down this time," he snarled in a thick Georgia drawl, his eyes pinning me where I stood.
"Wh…who said I wanted you to chase me asshole?"
I blinked in shock as the words left my mouth, challenging and a hell of a lot more calm and confident than I was really feeling. I hadn't meant to say that. No. No, I…I hadn't just said that. But, by the man's obviously stumped expression, I, in fact, had. Holy…crap. Now this guy was going to kill me for being a smart ass. Great. What the fuck had I been thinking? Swallowing hard, I stared in abject fear at the man before me, waiting for the moment the telltale whistle rang out, the precursor to the arrow that was soon to be sprouting from my chest. Any thoughts of running were now gone as I stared at the sharp arrows because…well he was going to kill me anyway; he might as well look me in the fucking eyes while he did it.
However, that moment never came. The man just stood there staring at me in silence, his gaze calculating and scrutinizing, as if he was trying to figure me out. It was more than unnerving and frankly, it scared the crap out of me. I mean if he was just going to kill me, could he at least be quick about it?
As the silence stretched on, and the man did nothing more that stare at me, I found myself finally getting a good look at him. Obviously, the thing that was at the forefront of my observation was the goddamn lethal crossbow that was just sitting there in his hand, cool and deadly as a fucking panther, but, with a little, ok maybe a lot of effort, I managed to look past the bow and see the man holding it. Ok, I still kept the bow in my peripherals but that's beside the point.
The first thing I noticed about the man was he's not very old; few years older than me, perhaps mid to late twenties. It was a bit hard to tell, what with the grime and blood smeared across the lower half off his face, but I made an educated guess. However, despite the gore, I could still see he was white; and I mean real country boy white, complete with dirtied jeans and a grungy, sleeveless shirt that looked to have been possibly white in another lifetime. His arms were muscled, though not overly so, and gleaming with sweat and his short hair was dirty blonde or perhaps a very light shade of brown.
It…it was his eyes, though, that captured my attention. Now, it wasn't that I had never seen blue eyes, I had all right, it's just…there was something different about his. They were the color of a wide-open Georgia summer sky, clear and fathomless. Like a reminder of simpler times, though, to be honest, my life had never been exactly simple. But, it was what lurked behind them that truly drew me in because underneath that crystal light blue lay something else; a darkness, like clouds building on a distant horizon, vague and flickering but still there nonetheless. They…reminded me of something but I couldn't quite put my finger on what. I could tell, however, that these eyes…they belonged to someone much older than the man that stood before me, to someone who had seen the horrors of the world and now had them imprinted on the backs of their eyelids, always waiting for them to close their eyes, perpetual and haunting. A realization hit me like a bolt of lightning and I gave a start as I realized what his eyes reminded me of.
It was my eyes; his eyes reminded me of my own. For I too had that look, that same haunted, hollowed gaze that, whether in green eyes or blue, seemed to perpetually ask Why? Perhaps…this man and me had more in common than I originally thought. Perhaps he was just another survivor, trying to get a leg up in the world and keep on living.
Suddenly, the man shifted just slightly towards me and my hand flew to my katana out of reflex, yanking it out of its sheath with a sharp jerk. "Then again, he could just be looking for trouble," I thought realistically.
Seeing me draw my blade, the man quickly wrenched his crossbow up, leveling me in his sights. "Whoa! Hey calm the fuck down will ya? I'm not gonna hurt ya," he said, scowl back again.
I tried to repress my own sneer, though I wasn't very successful. "Coming from the man who has an arrow leveled at me, you'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it," I snapped back. I tried to put as much venom in my voice as possible because maybe, if he thought I was a lot tougher than I actually was, he might think twice about fighting me.
Then again, I'm just winging this shit here.
The man screwed up his face and spat to the side, his spittle red with blood. "Ya drawed yer weapon first!" Shockingly, his voice was accusatory, as if this was my fault. Indignation spiraled through me at the thought.
"You fucking shot me, in the head, not ten minutes ago," I screamed back, jerking my head to the side and jabbing my finger at the still bleeding gash. Top that ass wipe.
"I thought ya was a walker! And ya fuckin broke my nose for it," he quickly snarled in response, gesturing to his own blood and wound. I scowled, stumped. Damn it. He was fucking right. But I wasn't about to admit it.
It grew quiet again as we stared at each other, panting in anger and exertion, the dripping of our blood the only movement in the world. Finally, after a few more tense moments, the man deliberately lowered his bow, slinging it over his back and showing me his hands in a calming gesture. I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious, but slowly lowered my own sword to the side in return.
We stood there then, the two of us, sizing each other up across the small clearing we stood in. I saw the man's eyes drift towards my katana, his blue gaze traveling the length of the blade. The man pursed his lips as he looked at it. "Where'd the hell ya get that thing," he suddenly grunted, jerking his chin towards it. "Never seen no one with a goddamn sword."
I blinked at his first non-hostile (well kind of) words. My sword? That's the first thing he asks? Well ok.
"I could say the same about your crossbow," I countered, raising an eyebrow at him as I crossed my arms, defensive of my most prized possession. He grunted again but didn't offer a response. Cue another awkward and tense silence. I huffed out a breath and tucked a strand of behind my ear, wrinkling my nose at the familiar nervous habit. God this felt so fucking surreal. This…this talking and interacting crap. After weeks of silence, interrupted by the occasional curse and one-way conversation, being in the presence of another living person…was too confusing. I was out of practice.
When the man made no effort to continue the conversation, and the silence grew unbearable, I decided to ask my own questions. Clearing my throat, I rubbed at the back of my neck nervously. "Um…what…what are you doing out here anyway," I finally mustered up the courage to ask, making the man's gaze lock on my face. "Well, besides shooting unsuspecting people in the head." I tried to keep that last comment joking but it came out with an undercurrent of bitterness. Sue me. The man narrowed his eyes at me for a moment but he seemed to come to some sort of decision because he grabbed a length of rope that ran diagonal across his chest and swung it around.
"Huntin," he muttered. Pursing my lips in confusion, I looked down and a quiet gasp fled my lips.
Right there in front of me, resting on this guy's chest, were about half-a-dozen squirrels and other small animals hanging from this thick and frayed looking length of rope, all bloodied and all dead. It was a disturbing sight but at the same time it was also the most delicious thing I had seen in weeks. My stomach growled violently at the thought of real meat, of real food. Since I had left Dalton, all I had eaten was snack packs and the occasional edible plant I found on the road. Nothing that came even remotely close to filling my perpetually empty stomach. The peaches I had discovered today were the closest I had come to real food but even they couldn't compare to actually meat. God, just the thought of it made my head spin.
Trying not to drool on myself, I brought my eyes back to his face, hoping that my starvation wasn't showing in my gaze. "O…oh," I murmured. "Uh…it seems you were successful?" It came out as a question.
The man shrugged his shoulders, swinging the dead game behind him again. "Not really."
My brow furrowed at his words. "Not really? You've got a whole buffet of meat on that string," I exclaimed. A snort of derision exploded out of the man and he fixed me with a mocking expression, eyes big, blue, and biting.
"Six critters ain't gonna feed no one except maybe me," he grunted. Bewildered, I made to ask what he meant but then the full meaning of his words smacked into me a moment later, subtle as a ton of bricks, and suddenly, I could barely breathe. Excitement burning through my veins like a drug, I couldn't help but jerk a step forward, eyes wide and mouth gaping.
"You mean there are more? More people?"
I…I wasn't alone! There were actually other survivors on Earth! Well besides Mr. Crossbow and me. I gasped as another thought occurred to me, my heart sputtering in my chest. "Wait! Wait! You're…you're from Atlanta aren't you?"
I couldn't keep the blatant and unrestricted glee from bursting through every cell in my body. I'd done it! I couldn't believe it. After all my walking and fighting and running, after the horror of this past month, I'd, by extension, made it to the refugee camp! All bitterness towards the man before me melted in that one instant. He was bringing me to safety! Hot water, security, and books, here I come!
However, before I could say another word, the man frowned at me, troubled and confused. "Atlanta? What the hell ya talking bout? I ain't settin foot near that geek filled city," he exclaimed.
My previous happiness became diluted with confusion and I cocked my head at the man, smiling dimming slightly. "Geek? What…what's that?"
"Geeks," he drawled, looking at me as if I was dumb as a doornail. "Ya know…geeks. Walkers. Bunch of motherless fuckin piles a shit that try to take a goddamn bite outta ya when ya ain't lookin. Christ, ya stupid or something?"
Indignation rose in me again and I bared my teeth at the man, not appreciating being called stupid by some redneck hick. "I know what a walker is thank you! I've just never heard anyone call them geeks. And what do they have to do with Atlanta anyway," I snapped, twirling the hilt of my katana in hand in agitation. "I'm talking about the refugee center, not walkers. That's where you're from isn't it? Whom you're hunting for?"
Finally, understanding seemed to dawn on the man and I couldn't help but think it was about freaking time. "The…refugee center," he drawled, as if to make sure that is what I had said. I scowled at him, ready to snap at him again before his next words stopped the very air in my lungs.
"Fuck, there ain't no fuckin refugee center," the man grunted, hand rising to wipe some blood off of his lip. "The only thing in Atlanta is a bunch of walkers and a whole lot of dead people."
It was like the world suddenly turned into a supernova: the air burned, the planet imploded, and a huge gaping vacuum sucked in all sound and noise until all that was left was a soul crushing, deafening, defeating silence.
"There ain't no fuckin refugee center."
"There ain't no fuckin refugee center."
"There ain't no fuckin refugee center."
The words reverberated in my head like the knell of a funeral bell, loud, solemn and condemning. "W…what," I stuttered, staring at the man in disbelief, all previous happiness evaporated like mist before the dawn. "What did you say?" He…he couldn't have said that. There…there was no way.
I must have heard wrong. I had to have heard wrong. Because if I didn't…if I didn't…
But I hadn't heard him wrong because, mere seconds later, the man just sneered at me and, without remorse, without compassion, tore my world asunder. "I said there ain't nothin in Atlanta," he replied. "No camp, no survivors, nothin. Where the hell ya hear otherwise? Cuz that bastard was lyin to ya."
My mind went blank and my throat went dry. "I…the broadcasts," I whispered, mind tumbling over and over in my head like clothes in a dryer. "The broadcasts said…there'd be a camp in Atlanta. I…I walked…and I walked. I walked all the way from Dalton…they'd said it was safe." I lifted my green eyes to his, my gaze desperate and pleading, begging him to explain this to me because I was so completely and utterly lost. Something akin to pity awoke in the man's expression suddenly and he ran a hand through his hair, obviously not knowing what to say.
"Shit…where've ya been? Those broadcasts stopped long time ago," he muttered, not meeting my eyes. "Ain't no one left."
When the echo of his words faded into silence, I stood there staring at him, letting his words wash over me, letting them bury themselves underneath my skin and worm into every crevice in my mind. There…there was no refugee camp. No big, walled in, high security shelter that I had been dreaming about for over a month. There was so safe zone, no infection free zone. There would be no hot water, no nice bed, no books. There…there was nothing. There was no one.
I was alone and I had nowhere to go.
And all of the sudden, it was getting hard to breathe. The air was too thin, insubstantial. I couldn't catch my breath; my chest was heaving with the effort, spots were exploding before my eyes. The Earth fell out from beneath me and suddenly I was stumbling.
"H…hey," I heard the man shout but the sound was muffled, distant, as if it came from underwater. Gasping, I staggered backward, quickly colliding with a tree, the impact jarring in my bones. My hands shot out behind me, nails digging into the harsh bark to keep me grounded as the world spun round and round and round.
"It can't be possible," I heard myself murmur, my voice bordering on hysterical. "No. No it just can't be. There…has to be someone left. Everyone can't be dead. Sensei said…said to head to Atlanta. He said…I'd be safe there. So…there has to be something, someone, somewhere…there…has…to…there… can't be…"
Widely, I snapped my head up, looking for confirmation that this was just some horrible joke. But the man's expression didn't change and I knew, deep down, I knew that this man was telling the truth and all my suffering, all my trials and tribulations, had been for nothing. A pressure began to build inside of me, and it built and built until I couldn't contain it any longer and I blew apart at the seams.
"GOD DAMN IT!"
The scream exploded out of my unexpectedly, spiraling and rising in volume as it clawed its way out of my throat. Throwing my head back, I continued to yell, cursing at the sky, cursing at the universe, cursing at a God that couldn't possibly exist no matter what I had previously thought. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I should shut up; every walker in a fifty-mile radius would hear me not to mention I was coming apart at the seams in front of a total stranger. But I couldn't stop, I just couldn't.
Because I had been so close. I had come so fucking close after so fucking long only to find out I hadn't been close to anything, just another dead end, full of walkers and blood and suffering. It just wasn't fair. What had I survived this long for? Why had I come all this way? There was nothing for me, no light at the end of the tunnel. What was the point? What was the fucking point?
Suddenly, I felt a hand clamp over my mouth, the calloused skin and powerful grip all to familiar. But I was too far-gone to "do the unexpected"; I was too angry, too scared…too lost. Summoning all the strength I had in my, I lashed out, shoving the bastard trying to quiet me back, my vision red and throbbing. As I felt his weight disappear, I reached blindly over my shoulder for my katana, wanting to maim something, anything, to get rid of this anger. I encountered an empty sheath. Heaving frantically, I looked around for that silver blade but before I could spot it, I was once again shoved against a tree, a hand pinning my wrists above me as the other one rested against my lips.
"Shhh," the man hissed at me, blue eyes boring a hole through my skull. "Ya want every walker in Georgia to hear ya?" I glared at him and struggled in his grasp. This time around, his grip was unbreakable. "Fuck! Calm down will ya," he growled as I continued to thrash. "Yer gonna end up hurting yerself!"
Twisting my head, I flung his fingers off my lips, baring my teeth at him in crazed anger and grief. "So what! There's nothing for me anyway! Atlanta's gone and every city from here to Dalton is over run! There's nothing left alright? Everyone's dead and my numbers up and coming! Who give's a hell if I die today, tomorrow, or a week from now," I said bitterly, tears sloshing in my eyes. I know I sounded crazy and manic and so many other things but…who fucking cared.
"So what? Yer just gonna give up? How pathetic. I thought ya wanted to live. Ya ran from me like ya did, fuckin sprintin through the woods like a god damn deer." His voice was disdainful and disgusted. I hated him for it.
"What the hell do you care? I don't even know you! You have no right to fucking judge me and you have no right to hold me here," I growled, bucking in his grasp. "So let me the fuck go."
The man just met me glare for glare, his breath harsh and angry. I watched as a plethora of emotions flashed through those blue eyes of his, each gone faster than the last. Finally, he seemed to settle on one: anger. "Look, I don' give a fuck if ya want to kill yerself alright. Ya ain't my problem. But if ya gonna do it, at least go into the goddamn city. I don' need no walkers wanderin close to camp cuz ya decided to lose yer damn mind nearby." Having said his mind, the man stepped away, giving me one last glace of disgust as he spat in the dirt, before turning and beginning to walk away. Heaving, but coming back to myself, I watched the man stalk across the clearing, not even glancing back, his catch and his crossbow swinging as he walked.
And just like that, it was over. Done with. The few minutes of my life that had ripped everything I had been holding on to into unrecognizable shreds…were finished. An indescribable sense of…emptiness filled me, if that made any sense. There was no more anger, no more sorrow. There was…nothing. Just like what was waiting for me in Atlanta. Just like…just like what was left back home. Nothing. Completely and utterly nothing. I blinked and watched the man, the man who had shot me and then dealt me a blow so much worse, just keep on walking, farther and farther away. And suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I should just let him go, walk straight out of the woods he came from and right out of my life, but…there was a chance…just a small chance…
"W…wait," I called out suddenly, my voice hoarse and weak. The man hesitated but didn't turn around. Gathering all the courage, all the strength I had left, I cleared my throat. "You…you said camp. But you…there's nothing in Atlanta. What…what were you talking about?" I know I sounded confused and lost and weak, like a stupid freaking child, but I didn't know what else to do. Everything I had been hanging onto since the world went to hell in a nicely made hand basket had just fallen through my fingers, shattered and fine as sand. This man…whoever the hell he was, could either make or break me right now.
I saw the man sigh at my words, his broad shoulders moving up then down, before he glanced back at me, eyes suddenly flat and indifferent. "There's a handful of dumb fucks few miles in. Got some supplies, few weapons, not much." Here he stopped and I saw him narrow his eyes for just a second, considering something. Then, he rubbed his mouth harshly, smearing blood into what I noticed was the scruffiness of a beard. "Look…if ya want, kid, I'll take ya. But ya can't be losin yer shit and screaming or fighting every couple'a minutes. I don' have time for that crap. Ya start up again and I'll leave ya in the middle of the fuckin forest and don' think I won'."
It wasn't a safe haven, it wasn't a promise for peace or security or comfort. Hell, the words weren't even fucking kind. But…it was something. It was something, a small hope, and since I had nothing except a looming prospect of black loneliness and an inevitable death…it looked pretty promising. Besides, after losing my head like I just did, I was lucky this man was offering at all.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded slowly, chagrined and embarrassed, but also nervous and scared and so many other things. The man exhaled sharply at my acceptance and jerked his head towards me before turning and continuing to walk into the trees. Afraid to lose him, and in shock that I had accepted, I wiped my eyes hastily, stooped to grab my sword where I had dropped it in the grass, and broke into a jog to catch up. When I drew abreast of him, he didn't even turn to acknowledge me, just kept on walking, almost silently, through the forest. It was then, as I walked with this complete stranger to some unknown location, that I realized…I didn't even know his name.
"My names Audrey," I suddenly said, darting a glance at him before turning my gaze forward again. "Audrey Bennett." The man grunted beside me and reached back for his crossbow, taking it into his hands smoothly and easily.
"Daryl Dixon," he grumbled. "Now be quiet. Yer gonna scare off the game." I bit my lip and did as he said, too tired to do anything else as I was mentally, emotionally, and physically drained since human was meant to go through these many emotions, and events, in one day, let alone a few minutes.
Still partially in shock of where I was and what I was doing, I chanced another look at the man beside me, watching as he scanned the forest for food, not even acknowledging my existence. Daryl Dixon huh? First he shoots me, chases me through the woods, ruins any illusion I had of peace and safety and now he's saving my life. "And I thought my life couldn't get any stranger."