Strange is my middle name. But that's okay. Maybe it's for the best. Because as far as I'm aware, being strange has helped me survive. Welcome to the world of the dead, who roam the blood painted streets. Those freaks have taken from me. Taken everything. And they have tried to take me. I don't think so.


6. Move

A grip. On my shoulder. Grip reality. Wake up from dreams. Shaking. Someone is shaking my shoulder. My eyes snap open. Samuel. "Hey. I'm getting tired. And it's almost morning. Ya think you could take over?" I sit up.

"Yeah. Uh... how long was I asleep?" I respond.

"Five- six hours. Not sure." I nod. My back stretches as I stand up. Samuel lays down and I sit against the door. My head leaning back. 

I blink and search through my bag. I'm starving. Hopefully I still have food. Yes. Crackers. I pull them from my packed bag and begin to snack, trying to be as quiet as I can. I munch slowly. I'll feel full faster. One of my dogs moseys to me and sits at my side. I pull my knees to my chest and eat a few more crackers. Then i pack them away. Our supplies are low. I stand up and walk into a small craft room i noticed earlier. It seems like quilts and baskets and decorations were home made here. Everything beautiful but old time-y. I smile a little and my dog nudges my leg a bit. I look down. "Hungry" i murmur. I run my fingers through my hair and rush to find food. I can of Vienna Sausages. I open them up and dump them in the corner of the somewhat bare room. The shelves are mainly filled but tubs that scatter the floor are dry of any material. A dust sewing machine sits on a wooden table. I rummage through to see if anything is useful. In the back I found a knife. Probably used to cut thick materials. I sigh and walk back to the main room and turn in a circle. 

My group is almost all up, rubbing their eyes. There's a few already eating. It's like a routine. Get up. Eat. Travel. Kill. Sleep.

Once they are all ready and standing, I go into the craft room again and see about my wound. I change the dressing and clean it to make sure I don't get an infection. 

Then I hear a noise. A rustling. Outside. Just beyond a window. I quickly throw all of the clothes on since my skin is no longer tender. I am ready for anything. I wake up Samuel since he has probably been asleep for a few hours. He eats and I creep out of the door and hear the noise again. Someone is here. But who? I reach for the knob and look back to my group. They all nod and I swing the door open. My feet pitter-patter across the porch as I creep into the grass. I look around at every angle and there's no one. Then I hear a scream. My feet are moving below me before I can decide if I'm going to save someone. I am running towards the sound. I have no idea what I will find, but I will deal with that when I get there. I reach a small field, where I see Carl running... trying to drag Patrick away from Walkers. "Shit" I whisper under my breath. I hold up three fingers, which signals that my group has to stay put and I drop my supply bag and run toward them. I grab Patrick and put his arm around my neck and see that Carl has been injured. "What the hell are you guys doing?!" I yell, beginning to attempt to run with Patrick. I whistle and a few of my group members run out to help. They grab Patrick. I turn and shoot a few Walkers that were getting too close for my liking. Carl has the wound on his leg. It's not huge but it's bleeding and he is obviously having a hard time walking. I nod to my group and they begin running back to the house we came from. The walkers are getting close and I don't have much time. "Get on" i huff. Carl sends a sharp glare into my eyes. I'm not affected. "Just get on! We don't have time and you'll die if you don't!" I see my group still and they are having a hard time keeping Patrick on his feet. "COME ON" I demand one last time. Carl hops on my back. I begin trudging through the trees, remembering every step I took. Every jump. Every turn. Every branch I have to duck under. I'm racing to get back to saftey. If you could call it that.

We get back to the house and I catch my breath, shoving Carl a bit too harshly into a chair and my group puts Patrick on the couch. "Okay, everyone has to clean this place out while I take care of them. We need to be out before those Walkers get here!" Everyone scatters and I bring out a roll of medical tape. I never thought I would need to waste it on him. Oh well. I fix up Carl rather easily. I know I cause him some pain but I was in a rush. I plopped down by Patrick, cleaning his wound from the shot he had. I rebandaged him and grabbed my bag. We needed to leave. "Pack up!" I yelled and my group came running, throwing their bags over their shoulders. 

Carl's POV

Corey saved me. And Patrick. That's a surprise. I guess she's not a total demon after all. She gives me harsh looks as she bandages me and yanks me to my feet. We leave the house, and begin walking. We are going east of the where I came from. "Hey," I half whisper to Corey, "where are we going?" She doesn't bother to look at me. 

"Well, first, I'm taking my group somewhere to stay. Then I'm taking you two boys back to your place. And then... well... that's it. We go our separate ways I guess." She half smiles as she finishes her sentences. I almost feel as if she is offending me. I shrug it off and look around. I find a couple of people helping Patrick. He is starring a path into the grass that is growing infront of his feet as he stumbles around here and there. His mind seems blank. He's probably in pain. I notice Corey looking my way. She turns to look in the direction I was focusing my thoughts in. She looks back to me. 

"What is it?" her voice murmurs. I can't tell if she is worried. This girl is too good at hiding emotions. 

"It's Patrick. He's gotta be in a lot of pain. I'm just worried about him." 

Her pale pink lips curve into a smirk. "Oh. I didn't know you could actually care that much about someone." I roll my eyes and she turns to a boy and whispers something. He seems to be momentarily in charge as she steps back to Patrick. She grabs a water from a side pocket in her bag. She hands it to Patrick along with something small... a pill. Painkillers, maybe? I'm not sure. She says a few quiet words and Patrick nods, taking the items into his stomach. Corey pats his back and jogs back up to the front of the group as she turns to me and nods.

We continue on for a while. Hopefully I can get Patrick and I back to the prison before nightfall. I occasionally glance around, unsure of whether I can entirely trust these people. But they are the only plausible hope I have right now, so that will due. For now.

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