All That's Left

Chapter Five: Somewhere To Go

Sydney's P.O.V

     My eyes slowly peel open, letting out a yawn as I sit up in my seat. My gaze lands on the road ahead, the concrete cracked and the vegetation overgrown. I jump ever so slightly when my eyes trail over to Hudson on my right, then Atlas on my left. When the hell did they switch places? "Morning sleeping beauty," Atlas says with a grin. I groan in response, leaning my head back on the headrest. "It's late in the afternoon." Hudson retorts dryly, my eyes automatically rolling practically in the back of my head.

     "God, you have your entire life to be an ass, can't you take the day off?" I lift my head just a little to meet Hudson's hard gaze. He sighs sharply, and I think if I look close enough I can see smoke puffing out of his ears and nose. "Are we still in Wyoming?" Brina asks behind me, my head turning slightly over my shoulder. 

     "Nope. South Dakota now." Atlas answers quickly, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Could go see Mount Rushmore," Theo adds with a soft chuckle, his tone tainted with sarcasm. I laugh at that, unable to hide my amusement. "No." Hudson says sternly, his gaze locked on the road ahead. I sigh exasperatedly, rolling my eyes as I mock him. "What?" Hudson asks sharply as I meet his gaze. 

     I chuckle, shaking my head and leaning back, "I'm sorry...it's just every time you open your mouth you get more annoying. Does it take a lot of effort to do that?". I plaster on an innocent smile, my head tilting slightly to the side. He grits his teeth, his eyes closing for a moment as he takes a deep breath. Man, he's easy to rile up. Almost too easy. 

     Atlas takes a turn into an abandoned neighborhood, I instinctively sit up in my seat to get a good look. It's what you'd expect. Overgrown grass, some houses torn apart...some fine but still fucked in their own little ways. Atlas slows down, Hudson scoping out the area. Atlas stops fully before parking, Hudson giving us a nod as he climbs out of the car, "C'mon. Stay quiet, and keep your eyes peeled.". I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder before piling out. I turn my head left, then right, sweeping my gaze over the empty street. 

     Theo passes me, then Ares. I can tell they're used to this. Like us. They have a process, a system that keeps them alive and moving. Like us. I bite my cheek, and Brina and I exchange a glance before we follow them. Hudson stops at the front door of a mostly put-together house. His gaze narrows, listening intently for any noises inside before he goes for the handle. It opens easily and with a strained creak, Hudson nods for all of us to go inside. There is a staircase directly in front of us, the living room on the left and a hallway on the right leading to the rest of the house. "Split up, check for walkers, and meet back down here," Hudson says sternly, the four of them immediately going off in different directions. 

     Brina and I shrug, she goes right and I take the stairs. I sigh sharply as I make my ascent, the moldy wooden floorboards groaning with each step I take. I'm still processing what all has happened in the last 72 hours. I get to the top, turning right to see three different doors. Two are cracked, and one is completely shut. I go for the one on the right side first, pushing it open the rest of the way. It looks like a kid's room...the original pink walls now stained with dirt and moss. There's a crib against the left wall, and two large windows enveloped with ripped, white-stained curtains. My eyes gloss over the scattered broken toys and stuffed animals. There's a dresser against the wall to the left of the crib, all the drawers are opened with child clothes messily hanging out of them. I go to the closet, pausing for just a moment before yanking it open. Nothing except clothes and children's shoes. I take one more scan of the room before walking out to move on to the next. 

     I step into the room on the left side, this looks like an office of sorts. Or what used to be anyway. There's a desk on the right wall, the monitor looks like it's been shot to hell. The wheeled chair is broken and on the floor, my eyes trailing to the open drawers on the desk. There are papers everywhere...scattered and torn. My gaze flickers to a picture frame on the desk, my feet forcing the rest of my body to move towards it. I pick it up, taking my sleeve to wipe off the dust collected on it. A family of four. Two kids, a boy and a girl. They look happy in this picture...but the unfortunate reminder that they're most likely dead forces its way into my thoughts. Lost happiness forever framed in stained bark. The way the mother is holding her daughter reminds me of my own. I clench my jaw, setting the captured joy down on the desk. 

     A low groan fills my ears from behind me, my shoulders immediately tensing up in response. I turn, my jaw tightening as I reach for my knife. Fuck. I forgot. I grind my teeth, reaching for my gun instead.  I force my feet towards the closet, my pace slow and careful. I shakily reach for the handle, hesitating for a moment before I pull it open. A walker comes plummeting right out the second I do, its groans and growls no longer muffled from its containment. I quickly step back, pointing the nose of the barrel to its forehead before I pull the trigger. 

     It falls to the ground like a sack of bricks, its blood splattering on my face. Great. I slip my pistol back into the holster, taking the end of my shirt to wipe off my face. "What the hell was that?". 

     I turn over my shoulder, my gaze meeting Hudson in the doorway. He actually looks slightly worried. His gaze travels to the now dead walker on the ground, his brows perking up. Hudson meets my gaze again, his expression hardening, "You're gonna attract more walkers just firing your gun like that.". My brows pinch together, my head cocking back in disbelief, "Are you fucking kidding me? I wouldn't have had to do that if I had my knife.".  He groans, throwing his head back as he turns to the left, "Just come on.". 

     I scoff, immediately following him into the last room at the end of the hallway, "No, I want it back. I don't care who has it, just give it.". Hudson sighs sharply, going to the side table on the left side of the queen bed against the wall in front of us, "Maybe you lost it.". Is this motherfucker really trying that? I scoff again, my jaw clenching as I look at him, "I did not. Lose it.". 

     "Well if you're shooting walkers like that you're obviously pretty careless," Hudson calls back, a hint of amusement hidden in his tone. His back is facing me...if I really wanted to I could shoot him right here and now. And he's fucking relaxed. Not a single worry or tense muscle in his body. And that pisses me off. "I already said I wouldn't have used my gun if I had my fucking knife, "I speak slowly through grit teeth.

     Hudson doesn't answer, just sitting there rummaging through the drawer. My jaw tightens as my head tilts slightly to the side, "I want it back.". He straightens up, rolling his head before cracking his neck. My brow raises, my gaze following his every move. Hudson reaches into his pocket, my nostrils flaring when I see him pull out my butterfly knife. So he did have it. I am really trying to calm myself down...but holy shit he is making it difficult. He flips it open, twirling it around his fingers with ease. My jaw clenches so tight it's starting to ache, my posture straightening up. Hudson turns around, meeting my gaze as he throws it. 

     The knife flies right past my face, the air brushing against my cheek before it hits the door right behind me. I hold eye contact as I step back, grabbing the handle before pulling the blade out of the already moldy wood, "Was that so hard?". Hudson's brow perks up without saying anything. My gaze narrows, twirling the blade around my fingers before I flip it shut. I slip it onto my belt, my gaze lingering on him as I slowly step out of the room.