The tall, skinny man and young boy with a sheriff's hat, stood in the prison yard staring right back at me; bloody and wounded, basket full of formula in hand, the obvious look of exhaustion washed over me. The dead slowly turns their head and stare...
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The Lost Dixon
Chapter 3: Welcome to Woodbury
Reece's Point of View: The doors open up and we step out into an empty town. There's a lot of buildings lined up on each side of the two roads, divided by patches of grass and trees, decorated with little fire pots. The streets are empty, free of people as he mentioned earlier. He turns around and looks at us, holding his hands out for displaying the town, smiling with pride.
"Welcome to Woodbury." He says. "Come with me." He says. The woman and I follow him through the streets, taking a look at everything. We arrive at the gates, which are guarded by men.
"Go relieve Pete at the back gate. I'll take the spotlight." The man says. He climbs up on the post and turns on the spotlight. I noticed a lot of military things around here. Are they military? Were they...former military? Do any of these people have military experience or just found everything and took it? Or, hell, even killed the military and took it all?
"Are you military?" The woman asks, thinking the same thing.
"Hardly." The leader says. "A couple of feds but, by and large, we're self trained." He explains.
"That's heavy artillery their packing." The woman points out. Mmhm, sure, yeah. I believe you.
"Some men arrive with guns, but most weapons are scavenged over time." He says.
"And the other side of town, the rest of the streets, they're all guarded like this? It can't be." The woman denies. I knew it. She's in awe. In shock. She's impressed. The leader of this place is charming, handsome, carrie's himself well. But there's still something off about him, and I'm going to figure it out. Actually, I'm going to runaway from him, as far as I can. But the woman? I can already tell she's completely into him. She doesn't even know it yet, but I can just tell. The way she looks at him, the way he looks at her.
"It can. And it is." He smirks at her. The woman smirks back, turning back to the town, looking around. See, what I mean?
"Got us a creeper, Governor." The man shouts from the spotlight.
"Governor?" The woman asks. "They call you that?"
"Some nicknames stick to you whether you want 'em to or not." He nods, smiling.
"Buzz is a nickname. Governors a title. There's a difference." I argue. The night fills with the sounds shots before the man turns back to us.
"Got 'em. We're clear." He announces.
"We'll get 'em in the mornin." The Governor calls. He turns to us, an obvious confused and odd look displayed on our faces. "Can't have 'em rot, creates an odor, makes people uneasy."
"What people?" The woman asks. "There's nobody here, it's a ghost town." The Governor smiles and nods his head.
"This way." He says. We follow him through the streets and enter a building. We walk through a set of stairs before entering a long and narrow hallway. It almost made me feel uneasy. I hate tight spaces. All my life, I was always in tight spaces, never felt like I could breathe. It's called being claustrophobic, but on the other hand, it feels the same way with people, too. Maybe that's why being out on my own, surviving on my own, I like it so much.
