A simple supply hunt for a source of water in the middle of Atlanta turns sour quickly for Erin as she come fist to face with a fuming, handless Merle Dixon.
Alone in the middle of the apocalypse with only a racist guy who doesn't know the differen...
"Take your eyes off of me so I can leave // I'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me." - Love in the Dark. Adele.
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The open road was a breath of fresh air after a fortnight in what felt like an airless room without windows. Group life had felt suffocating from the minute Erin was absorbed into it. The people had been fine, that wasn't the issue - the issue was how close they were, how reliant on one another.
Erin was constantly reminded of the people she had been close to, the people she had relied on. Until they'd been ripped away from her.
The pain in her chest that she constantly felt and associated with Todd always faded on the open road. Her breathing was easier when she was alone with only the wilderness for company, her mind focused solely on survival without the distractions of personal relationships or conflicts or expectations.
It had been nice to some extent to feel needed in the camp. Being able to hunt had meant she could be a provider, someone that was needed and had a set role. However, with the Dixons around, she'd essentially just been a spare part. The camp was big, but two hunters could adequately supply it. They'd have to now.
Thinking about the Dixons - or, more accurately, the Dixon - caused her to bite the inside of her cheek, gnawing on it as a distraction. It didn't help or distract. It only reminded her more of him and the way he chewed his lip when there was something on his mind.
She could picture him doing that now as he realised she was gone. It had been about half an hour since she'd left so she figured he might have returned to camp by now, with or without Shane in tow.
Chewing his lip was the best case scenario for his reaction, and Erin knew it was wishful thinking. He'd be angry. Furious, even. He might lash out, but she imagined he wouldn't, probably keeping the anger inside and painting his usual image of nonchalance on the exterior.
Or, she could not know him at all. Maybe he'd be happy she was gone. Maybe she'd completely misread him. Maybe her lack of contact with humans had made her see a connection, an understanding, that was never truly there.
She hoped not for her sake, but a part of her hoped so for his sake. It would make forgetting her a hell of a lot easier.
Erin's eyes scanned the woodland that ran alongside the road, on high alert for walkers that would be stirred by the hum of her engine. She'd passed a few dead ones between the farm and the main road, presumably taken care of when the camp first gatecrashed the Greenes. One's head had sported what looked like tyre marks so it had either met it's grim end under the RV, her truck, or Merle's bike.
By the time the truck reached the jammed roadside where she'd first met the group, the sun had set and darkness was rolling down the highway. Erin could vaguely see movement in between some of the mangled wrecks when her eyes scanned the horizon - walkers shuffling around, their distant groans chuntering like a chorus in the twilight.
