BITE ME ➼ C. G. 〖 #wattys2016 〗

Chapter 3

SOTC: Empty Gold by Halsey
• Dark as midnight sun, smoke as black as charcoal •

A yelping cry rang through the forest. Everybody was immediately on alert, unsheathing their weapons and cocking their guns. I drew my machete.

"HELP!" It was louder, more frantic this time.

The entire group pounded through the forest, Rick in the lead. My shirt flew out behind me as I ran.

The cries got louder as we came upon a huge tree, and there was a dark-skinned, sharply-dressed man scrambling up the branches.

A singular walker stood at the base.

Not a horde, but one.

What kind of pity party was he? (🎶My pity party's in flames🎶)

Somebody took out the walker with a knife, and we helped the man down.

He was shivering, scared as hell.

Carl gave me a mutual confused look, turning back to the weirdo.

The poor guy looked like he'd seen a ghost.

•••

A little white house came out from behind the trees, and I could see the priest's fear in his eyes.

You know that feeling that you get when everything is about to go flipping to the deep end? With paranoia and all that shit? That's what I was feeling then. All the tense suspicion tornado-ing up inside me.

The angst swelled up in me like a water balloon. I wanted to abandon ship right then, drop this chance and flee like I'd always had.

But I didn't. I couldn't.

I wouldn't.

•••

While half the group was out on a supply run, Carl came to where I was on the benches. I was laid out on the wood, staring at the cracked ceiling. I still had that pit in my stomach, but I was trying to ignore it.

"Hey, I'm going to check out what we've got here. Wanna come with?" He extended his hand, and I took it.

He pulled me up, and I felt how calloused and warm his hands were. They felt good. Molded to fit the handle of a gun.

He pulled me towards the front door, then freed my hand to unsheath his knife. I followed suit. A handful of walkers meandered around the site, and Carl jabbed his knife into the base of one's skull. I swung my machete into a forehead, and the two halves fell apart like the crevice of a river.

Something seemed so off here. I whirled around, kind of paranoid, before Carl patted me on the shoulder. "They're gone. We're safe."

I nodded. But I wasn't really worrying about that.

Scoping the perimeter to make sure there were no more, we began to look around the edges. The building was worn and very scratched. I picked a few leaves off the nearby plants until I saw it.

Somebody had picked the base of a window to scratch a message into the paint, which flaked around it like the skin of a wound.

You'll burn for this.

"Uh... Carl?" He jogged over from the fence, and his eyes widened immediately.

He thought for a moment, flicking off the edges of white. "We'll tell Dad when he gets back. He'll know what to do." He hooked around the corner to go inside the church. "Doesn't mean Gabriel's a bad guy for sure, but it means something."

I stared at the carving. What kind of something?

•••

"To the survivors," the red-headed muscleman rose his drink up to the ceiling of the church. I was sprawled out on the bench, clinking my drink with whoever swung theirs towards mine. Half the faces I didn't have names for yet.

Carl, across the room, near his father and sister, rose his wine glass with mine. We sipped and I held back the urge to spit out the revolting liquid.

Carl was doing the same, and once I got it down, I smiled, licking the aftertaste off the inside of my cheeks.

•••

"Hi." Carl's sleepy voice was quite—

I cut that thought off before I could complete it.

I turned over towards him. I chose to have my spot next to his because he's currently the person that I know best.

"Hey," I said back, smiling. "Tired yet?"

He gave a weary laugh. "I think everybody here would sleep for centuries if given the chance." (🎶Remember me for centuries🎶)

I laughed too. "Did you have a best friend?"

"Oh," he said quietly. He shifted his arms. "Her name was Sophia. She died a long time ago." He looked down.

"I'm sorry." I wrung my fingers. That was probably the wrong question to ask.

"You're practically my best friend anyway," he said, eyes distant. "All I normally have is Judith. But it's not like I can talk to her."

Smiling, I laid my head down on the hard, wallpapered wall. "Well it's not like you have options."

He gave a small chuckle, turning over. "Night, Kee."

I have to say, that nickname sounded pretty sweet.

"Night, Carl."

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A/N: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!

I have recently discovered that is not a good idea to spend hours writing when you have piles of homework to do during Turkey Break.

I love this pic of Chandler. He's really beautiful <3

Have a fantabulous day, little fluff nuggets! Love y'all :P

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Word count:
892

Edited 12-30-15
Edited 1-28-16
Edited 2-22-16
Edited 8-3-16