"Life before I met Daryl was lonely. I was hiding from one place to another." I state.
"I don't really want to talk about it." I add, my mind flashing the grostesque image of my baby brother with a hunk of flesh torn from his neck, spurting blood from under my hand.
I stiffen at the image and swollow back tears. I reach in the can and pull out with a handful of peanuts.
"You should sleep. I will take first watch." I say, shifting from his lap to the wall beside him, wrapped up in my blanket.
He nods and lays on the ground with the other blanket supporting his head. Soon he is asleep and I keep eating peanuts while watching, waiting for the barricade to break.
"We have to be very quiet. People are sick and we don't know of a cure. Don't let them get near you or scratch you. Call for help if you see one too close for comfort, okay?" my mother tells me.
I nod, scared of the world around us. Kit and Todd were in the house. Mom was helping me pack. This was our last time we would be here at our house in Ohio. Florida was the plan. Warm weather, clear waters, unlimited fishing, islands off the coast that no one knows about, the perfect place to escape. I grunt quietly as I tug the zipper over the bluging backpack.
"Come on sweetie, let's go and remember, quiet as a mouse." she says as we close the front door silently.
Kit has a rifle and mom has a hand gun. I grasp my little brother's hand tight as we move quick to the brown truck which is connected to the small mobile trailer that Kit had in the big shed behind our house.
"Hurry!" Kit hisses to us as he holds open the back door for us to get in.
We clamber into the back seat as Kit gets the two big red containers full of gas. Mom quietly shuts the door and gets in shotgun. She nervously stares at Kit on the outside, hefting the two containers in the bed and jogging around to us.
"Ready to go." he mutters as he turns the car on and backs it up.
Mom rests her hand on top of his free hand.
"We'll be fine." she coos to him.
He nods, "I know we will be."
I feel my eyes start to droop as well, falling into sleep. A cat nap won't hurt me.
THIRD PERSON'S POV
Bob shifts the straps of the bag on his shoulder. It's beginning to dig into his muscle. Daryl was still tracking the two teens down based solely on footprints.
"Somethin' went down here." he mumbles, motioning to the mud before them.
"I don't see anything." Bob shrugs hopelessly.
Daryl grumbles and moves on. Bob sighs and scans the area around him. His stomach grumbles, just like Daryl, and he suddenly thinks of the chocolate pancakes he ate about an hour ago with Sasha. Suddenly he is yanked back and slammed against a flat surface, like a wall.
"Bunch of 'em around that old bank. Probably in there." Daryl hisses to him.
He lets Bob peek around the corner. It was a good thing he pulled him back, because about forty walkers surrounding the bank entrance could've swarmed him in seconds. He cringes at the reference he made. He quickly checks his watch, 4:50 in the afternoon. It will be getting dark soon.
"I'll distract them." Bob says, swooping down to pick up a rock.
"No. What if we get spilt up? Let's take 'em out little at a time." Daryl explains.
Bob puts the rock down and cocks his gun back. They both nod and creep out. Several walkers turn to the two new scents of fresh meat and shuffle forward. The duo takes them out in no time. Bob motions for Daryl to follow as he spots something on the side of the building.
"Side door? Good eye, let's go get those two." Daryl says to Bob, patting him on the back as he yanks open the door and shuts it quickly without the remaining walkers noticing.
The two are in a hallway, dimly lit with the dusty windows somewhere letting in light at the end of the hallway. Tense and ready to kill, they steadily move down the long hallway, which leads them out to the lobby.
The walkers push at the glass and the double doors when they see more able bodies. Daryl quickly moves on when he sees more light in front of them.
I wake up suddenly. Carl is still asleep. I run my hand over my hair and realize it's almost dry, still damp. I groan quietly and stretch, regretting the pain pulsing in my lower back. I stand up and grab my gun and leave the ring of keys by the door. Quick bathroom trip. I go back and bend down, softly running a finger in Carl's hair, pushing hair behind his left ear. I kiss his temple lightly and walk down the hallway to my left.
I spot the mahogany door, which has the universal sign of women, a figure in a triangle dress. I smile once I'm inside, one, there is a small window at the top which lets in light. The second reason is that there is a blow dryer for hands in here. I glance at the small window and nod.
Yes, if I need an escape route, climb out the window, which is big enought for me to squeeze through after I get carl out first. Carl is worth being bit for, he has family and others who care about him.
I go to the bathroom and return to the vault. Still asleep. I sneak past him and grab our clothes, which were damp. About five minutes later our clothes are dry. I check my watch in boredom. 2:40 is what the face reads. I put on my clothes, my green army jacket with my plaid shirt buttoned up and the tank top stuffed in my blue jeans. I took off the boxers and put on my own navy undies.
The cuffs of my jeans were snuggly tucked into my knit socks and zipped up into my scruffed brown boots. I took my thin black hair tie and ran my fingers through my dry hair, pulling it back into a high messy ponytail. My head snaps to the door when I hear gun shots, then glass breaking, finally dead moans amplified, which means hell has gotten in.
I grab my gun and race out.
I see my clothes beside me, folded neatly with my hat on top. I tug them on quickly and go back to sleep with my hat and gun beside me. What seemed like seconds later, I'm shaken awake.
"Wake up!" I hear a familiar voice snarl at me.
I feel a hand under my arm and lift me to my feet.
"Bob? Daryl?" I mumble as I grab my hat and gun.
"Come on!" Bob urges.
I hiss in pain as I run, the pressure on my ankle burning. I see daryl ahead of us, slamming his crossbow into walker skulls. I hear gun shots as well, Charlotte is behind us probably. We leave out a side door. I squint under the deep orange sun, almost ready to set. We keep up our pace, not looking back. We stop a few blocks away. Then I really look around.
"Where's Charlotte?" I ask.
My jaw tightens and I clench my hands into fists as I glare at Daryl.
"We didn't see her in the vault, only you." Bob says.
I turn on my heel, back to the bank. I feel a hand grip my arm and whip me around.
"We are not going back." Daryl snaps at me.
I try to yank my arm out of his grip, which wasn't effective.
"I have to! She's my girlfriend!" I exclaim.
"Was. Was your girlfriend. She told us y'all spilt. 'sides, place is over run and she's dead anyways." Daryl says.
Bob trails behind, silent as the setting sun in front of us. I struggle and squirm.
"No. We have to go back!" I snarl at him.
I get out of his iron grip and start running, not caring about the burning in my ankle.
"Carl! Stop!" Bob yells.
I feel myself being tackled to the ground.
"No! Let me go! Charlotte!" I yell.
I feel pressure on my neck, an arm around it to make me unconscious. It worked as I see black clot my vision.