dromomania |carl grimes|

2

FOUND

I made my way back to my car, my 2006 Honda Pilot. I was never a car person but after figuring out how to do changes to my car, I got better. I basically lived in my car, A/C, and heat galore plus I had a collection of my mom's CDs, Katy Perry, Eminem, and anything from the great musical era of 2010.

Elowen gave me her clothing when she got bit, she threw away anything useless as she knows to travel light. She gave some to me prior to being bitten but she gave me everything when we set out on her last hike.

I throw my car in drive and head down the road, not more than half an hour into my drive was I faced with a blockade in the road. About 7 cars were on their sides creating a complete line across the freeway. As much as I want to plow through this, there's a reason this is here and it'd be stupid to do so.

I frown and hop out of my SUV, tucking the keys into my back pocket. My pistol tapped against my hip as I walked. Knowing I can pull the trigger without it catching, thanks to Elowen. She had fixed my gun due to my lack of knowledge, Elowen was smart, so fucking smart.

I noticed movement through the car blockade. A person had appeared in a mirror on the Nissan in front of me. I stop walking, watching the person behind the car. I kept my eyes on them as they were probably 70 feet away, I slowly back up toward my car.

My finger balanced on my trigger, ready to shoot. Suddenly a safety clicked off, mere centimeters from my head. Someone whistles behind me, the person I was watching behind the car and four others weave through the cars towards me. I felt the barrel of a gun on the back of my head.

The mirror man got closer and I could see messy hair and a torn-up vest that looked like it had been a dead man's chew toy. He had a large crossbow that from my distance looked like it only had about two bolts and I saw no quiver so he has two shots.

"Drop your gun," The voice behind me says. He sounds young, with an accent from the southeast. It sounds familiar but when you live with people who can't pronounce half the English alphabet due to their dialect, they all blend together.

"And if I don't?" I ask, my eyes now on his shadow. He wasn't much taller than I am and wore a hat, a coat, or something of the sort. He had around shoulder-length hair, all I can see from a shadow.

"I'll blow your brain out."

It was something of pure adrenaline, especially the lack of will to live. I spun on my heel and put my gun to his head. Taking a moment to look at the boy. He has a missing eye, I can only assume as he has a bandage over his eyes. He has fluffy brown hair that reaches his shoulder and a piercing blue eye, one that was burning into my eyes. He looked oddly familiar but God everyone looks familiar once you see dead a billion times.

I hear several guns go off the safety and the wind of a pulled-back crossbow. He has one bolt in, if he misses this at this distance, he better turn the other one on himself.

"You're not gonna shoot me," I tell him.

He cocks his head to the side, "How do you figure?"

Cocky, why be cocky when you're in this situation?

A sly smile makes its way to my lips, "You would have done it already."

"You try anything and you're dead, you have four guns and a crossbow a foot away from your skull," A rough southern voice says from about a foot behind. I know genius, I'm well aware of the weapons that I have focused on in my brain, at least I hope their smart and sympathetic enough to put people out through their brains.

I glance up at the hat he was wearing, it was familiar. It was a brown cowboy hat, that looked too familiar but at his height difference and my very bad vision, I couldn't see any more detail on the hat.

"Where'd you get that hat?" I ask, staring into his eye.

"What does it matter?" He snaps.

I glare at him, I drop my gun from his head click safety on and drop it onto the road. A dent won't break my gun but a bullet to the head will break me, I'm smart enough to know which odds I wanna play.

"Answer the fucking question."

"Is this your car?" A woman asks from nearby.

"It was my mom's." That sounded pathetic, things all belonged to others at this point in the world, and sentiment means nothing anymore.

The woman walks around the car, she had short hair and a gun at her side. She was a slight bit taller than me but it was good to know I had only two guns and a crossbow on me at the moment.

"Georgia?" She asks.

"Yeah?" I confirm.

Who cares where you're from, it's all a blur, there's dead everywhere, nowhere is safe, and nowhere matters.

"Are you alone?" The rough southern voice asks.

"N...Yes, yeah I am." That was my mistake, I should have realized what is dead cannot keep you company.

"Didn't sound too sure," The boy in front of me says. You didn't sound too sure when you said you were gonna blow my brains out but I didn't mention it.

I frown, rolling my eyes. The boy stared deep into me, I could feel more eyes on me as well. They felt like lava burning straight into my soul.

"I just had to shoot my bitten best friend so yes I am alone now, thanks."

The whole thing lowered in the atmosphere. Given that I was a young-looking girl that was wandering the streets in a zombie apocalypse it was to be expected I wasn't alone.

"How old are you?" The woman asks.

I shrug, I get that question a lot, I look much older than I am. "Nineteen, now are we done playing twenty questions, it's starting to get dark out."

The boy that was missing an eye shoved me to my car, my back to the door.

"We're done when I say we're done."

I shake my head, "Keep asking Sheriff."

"You're a smartass huh?" The southern man asks.

Yeah, I am, that's why my dad use to beat the ever-living shit out of me. I was bad with back-talking for a while. I got older and realized the issue with it so I shut my mouth but after the apocalypse, it got bad again.

"You really know how to press a nerve," Another man says, not one in my vision.

The boy rips a bandana off of his arm and ties it around my head, so I can't see. This could throw me into a few situations, one guaranteeing death the other may be worse, being forced to live with strangers.

"Usually I like to be treated to dinner before I act on my kinks," I joke.

I'm shoved into the back of my own car, I know those seats. I know all the rips on those leather sets, the barely working A/C, and there's a leak in the line and my next goal was to find the O-ring for it.

"You be nice to Trappy, she's old, and the gas is sensitive."

Everyone piles into my car, I can tell because of the movement. I feel someone slide against me, shoving me against the car door. Not like I should be treated with respect in my own car.