America in catastrophe

Chapter 7

Anyone remember those old west movies where the main road gets emptied out before the big fight and a tumbleweed blows past?

Except the bad guy isn't a human being. It's something else entirely.

The parking lot of our first stop still has abandoned cars parked in pristine rows. Some with their doors hanging open.

An old strip mall. The grime covered sign said there was a vets office. Among other things.

Daryl keeps a level aim in the cars as we pass.

I stride along beside him. A bitter cold against my side that taz usually fills.

"We should see if any of these run. More we can bring back with us." I suggest as we pass the last empty car.

Daryl nods lowering his crossbow to pull on a rusted chain wrapped around the door handles. He slams his crossbow stock into the lock, snapping it off.

I lean against the wall. Waiting, watching. It takes a long minute for almost twelve sets of hands to strike the grime covered glass.

"Maybe a dozen... you wanna shoot?" Daryl asks pulling his crossbow across his chest.

I yank the chain from the door, slamming my shoulder into it to keep the walkers at bay. "All you."

Daryl takes a few steps back. Rolling his shoulders he takes aim. "Alright."

I take a deep breath. Easing off the door. The walkers surge foreword, throwing me down. Both doors gape as the walkers pile out. The door swings wide, smashing into my face as I try to get up.

"Shade!" Daryl barks. Stumbling back to give himself more space to fire.

I'm back on my feet, the world sways for only a Moment. I Throw one knife slicing through rotten flesh, once. Twice. I abandon my third knife in a walkers head.

Two advance on Daryl as he draws heavily on his bow string. Fighting to nock a new arrow.

"Down!" I snap up my bow. Arrow swiveling past my cheek as I draw. In one steady motion, Daryl ducks and the walkers fall; joined together at the ear by my arrow.

Daryl is back up. The momentum of his fall locking his string into place. He lines up, firing his bolt through the next walkers head.

I sweep out the next walkers legs, knocking the final three down like dominos. Daryl launches foreword, hunting knife staking through brain matter. I jump on the next skull, squashing it beneath my feet as Daryl slams his own boot down on the final skull.

I laugh breathlessly. Assessing the carnage beneath us. Eleven walkers. "Next time you can man the door."

Daryl chuckles lowly, collecting up his arrows. And mine.

Inside the mall is quiet. Dust and rot seeping into the faded tile.

"Where first?" Daryl asks using his poncho to wipe away at the grime on the directory.

"Anything for taz." I point to the small vets office at the far end of the map.

Daryl follows my lead through the dark corridors. Haunting echoes of life dance across the shuttered walls.

"Do you remember your first walker kill?" I ask stepping over a rotting puddle of flesh.

Daryl grunts turning to check behind us as we walk. "Not really. Probably while I was out huntin' with my brother."

I nod absently glancing down at the bracket of scars across my wrists. "Mine was right after this started. People didn't really know what they were yet. Walker cornered me in an alley. I stabbed it. But some cop thought I murdered a guy. Arrested me." I laugh holding up my wrists to show Daryl. "The station got over run cop turned with the keys to my cell. I had to pull the cuffs off. My best friend found me about a block away, bleeding so bad he thought I got bit."