Your Hunter (Currently rewriting)

I Respect You

Dreams/flashbacks:

There it was again...the pit. The chains, the screaming, the torture...the smell of sulfur and blood. Other people screaming in pain and in agony. Those sounds and those smells were embedded into my mind. I wanted this to be over with. I wanted out of here! "I am here to help..." I heard a voice say. As I looked upward, I saw a bright light and a burning sensation on my shoulders as I was pulled up. I saw everything around me shy away from the light until it pitch black once more...the coffin.

I sat straight up after I had visions of my time in the cage. I had sweat covering my body, breathing heavily from the memories. I could still feel the pain, smell the sulfur, and hear the screams. I looked around to see an IV in my hand, but I was in a bedroom rather than a hospital. I looked to find some food and water sitting on the nightstand. I reached over, quickly might I add, and began to eat with gusto. I took a couple of big swigs of the water that was next to the food before I continued eating. I just got done eating when the door opened. An old man, a guy who looked like a cop, and some guy with a crossbow slung around his shoulders. The old man spoke first, "Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling?" I looked at them surprised and a bit frightened, "Where am I? Who are you?" The guy that looked like a cop spoke up next, "You're in a farmhouse. Do you remember how you got here?" "I remember running from a town to a highway. I slept in one of the cars, but when I woke up I saw these things trying to break through the glass. So I opened the passenger door and ran until...I think I came to a clearing, but everything was blank after that," I tried to recall. "You sprained your ankle pretty badly and were dehydrated," the old man informed me. "Daryl, here, carried you here," the man that looked like a cop said, pointing to the man with a crossbow. I nodded in thanks and I looked at my bandaged ankle, sighing in defeat and annoyance.

The old man looked at me again, "My name is Hershel." Hershel, huh. Well, I have a perfect nickname for him, Hershey. Dean would have probably told me to think of something more creative, but he isn't here at the moment. "Awesome. I'm...I'm Tara Nugent." I said as I came up with a lie for my name. I needed to be careful, especially if this dude was a cop. "Ya said these things...ya talkin' about the walkers?" Daryl asked me. I noticed that everyone was talking in a southern accent, which was weird. "Yeah, the things that want to eat me...what are they?" I asked. "We call them walkers. They are dead, but able to move and they feed off of the living. If you get bit or scratched by one of them, you become one of them," the cop clarified. I started nervously laughing, "Oh...oh that's just wonderful..." "Do you know what happened?" the old man asked and I shook my head, "No. I woke up a couple of days ago...I was in a coma..." I couldn't say, 'Hey, I was dead and came back to life.' "The whole world is gone. No government, no military. There's no water, electricity...no phones," the cop explained. My eyes went wide and it felt like the wind got knocked out of me, "What? There's no phones?" "No. I'm sorry. I woke up from a coma to this too a couple of months ago," the cop informed me. "How am I supposed to find my brothers?" I asked more to myself rather than out loud.

"Where are your brothers?" the old man asked and I shrugged in response, "I don't know. I don't even know where I am." "Ya in Georgia," Daryl answered me. I looked at him quickly, "I'm where?" "Georgia," he replied. I felt lightheaded and I laid my head down, "How am I here? I was in Washington..." "Washington?" the old man asked. I looked at him, "Yes. That's where I was in the coma. How did I end up here?" I asked myself. How did I get here? I died in Washington, not Georgia, so how was I here? My brothers and I have barely set foot in the southern states. "Look, you look like the fluids are helping you. Once this bag is finished, why don't you rinse off. Get some clean clothes on," the old man suggested, sensing I was being overwhelmed. I only nodded and the cop looked at Daryl, "Keep her company for a bit. I need to go handle something." Daryl just scoffed and proceeded to sit down on the floor. The old man and the cop left the room, leaving me with Daryl in a very uncomfortable silence. "So...uh...how's it going?" I asked, breaking the silence with awkwardness. "All dandy, doll. I love babysitting," he replied sarcastically. I looked at him, "Well, that's good. Let me see if I can act more like a baby for you, so it will be authentic." Towards the end of my sentence, I sounded like I had a baby voice and a fake pouty look on my face. He glared at me and I just smiled smugly.