BITE ME ➼ C. G. 〖 #wattys2016 〗

Chapter 11

SOTC: Just in Case by Conor Maynard
• Promise me you won't forget, you don't have settle with this •

A shudder of the barn door snapped me out of my thoughts. I pulled my shirt over my bite, afraid that somebody would see it. But nobody noticed.

It was Maggie, then Sasha. Between them was a blond man. He looked generic, normal, kinda well-groomed.

Sasha prodded the new dude forward with her gun. He looked down.
"Uh, hi," he said shyly, shrugging off his backpack. "My name is Aaron, and I represent a safe community." I knit my eyebrows, wrapping my fingers around my knife. The tension floated around the room like fog.

The man gave a weak laugh, as if trying to lighten the mood. "Um, I have pictures." About fifteen guns and knives pointed his way. If he tried anything, he'd be dead in a moment.

Pulling out a bundle of paper from his pack, he put it into Rick's hands. He leafed through them.

"We've got reinforced steel walls. And food, water and electricity. But the one thing we need is people."

Rick gave him a skeptical look.

How could this Aaron dude just walk in here and show us this supposed "safe-haven"? Terminus was supposed to be that, but it definitely wasn't.

If it were me, I would kick him out right then and there. But it wasn't my choice.

"Um, we've been watching you guys. We gave you that water from the road. And you seem trustable to be let in."

"We?" I asked.

His glance flicked over to mine. "Uh–"

Rick hit him over the head. Good call. Aaron slumped over, still.

Sasha and Maggie immediately grabbed his bag, dumping the contents on the floor. A collective gasp echoed from them when something thunked to the wooden floor.

It was a flare gun.

It crossed my conscious that this would be a fantastic distraction. I quietly stepped over to the barn door, turning back towards them. "I'm taking watch."

Rick nodded offhandedly, turning back to Aaron.

I pushed the door closed, finally letting out a breath that I hadn't was being held. It billowed out out my mouth in a column of thick, foggy steam.

Hooking my knives into the slats in the boards, I hauled my way up the wall. The machete clicked as I threw it up onto to the metal-plated roof. My arms ached as I pulled myself on it, noticing the ghosts of new muscles tracing my skin. More steam floated out of my mouth as I observed the skeletal trees cresting the rising sun.

I thought about the knife in my hand. I felt the thick, unkept emotions swirling up inside of me, and the bite throbbing on my shoulder.

Wouldn't it be better if I just ended it all then?

I brought the knife to my wrist.

"Kee?" It was Carl. He was at the bottom, near the door, and he sounded worried.

I removed the dagger from my skin, hastily attempting to pull my shirt down over my bite. "Yeah?"

There was some shuffling, and then the sound of metal-on-metal. Tips of rusted-iron bars slid up into my vision. "You know there's a ladder down here, right?" Carl's hat peeked over the edge of the roof, then his piercing blue eyes.

I shrugged. "I do it the fun way."

He scooted back to where I sat, staring out at the trees. "I wonder what this safe haven thing is. It seems okay."

"Yeah," I agreed distractedly, watching the sunlight ripple through the branches. I wanted to show him my bite, but I didn't want to trouble him any farther. It was a pretty heavy burden for me, let alone somebody else.

Carl looked at me. "You know, Kee, that if there's anything bothering you, you can tell me."

The words latched onto my heart like fishing hooks. "It's just, you know, everything's happening at once."

He nodded, and I finally looked up at him, trying to ignore his overly-attractive face. He looked truly concerned, eyes digging into mine.
I looked away, ending the awkward moment. "So..." I pushed the knife far away. "Favorite season."

He thought. "Summer's cool."

"But hot," I reminded him. "Dehydration."

He nodded. "Yeah, I suppose so." Then, looking at my shoulder, he winced. I held my breath as he extended a finger to graze the edges of the—no, my—mangled flesh. Did he know it was a bite? Please no, no!

He withdrew his hand. "Where'd you get that?" A shroud of worry covered his face.

"Uh..." I stuttered. I was starting to sound like Aaron. But my lies saved me. "A tree branch decided to fight back."

He scrutinized my wound. It didn't look like a feeble scratch. "No, tell me the truth." No no no no....

I wanted to screech 'I CAN'T!' But no, I had to weave a web of lies. "It's what it looks like." I gave a distraught sigh, which wasn't exactly fake. "A walker got me."

I interrupted Carl's shocked face. "But... I'm immune!" I spit the lie out. Regret immediately washed over me. No, I wished I was immune.

His eyes found mine, shining with unsure tears. "Really?" His tone was hopeful. It was like he was a child who was being told that Santa Claus was real.

"Yeah." I shiver went up my spine. "My Dad made an antidote. But he died before he could make more of it." My mind began to churn out more and more of my forged story. "I was bit on my leg before, but it healed over. I'm okay now."

A smile spread over his face. "That's awesome!" His laugh curled up into the forest silence. Then the grin just kept growing and growing.

"Yeah," I said casually. As if this was normal.

This was not normal. I was not normal.

I hated that the lies were as natural as the truth. This has happened before, where I had sugarcoated my situation to slip by the next few days. But if I kept this going for the next three weeks, imagine how Carl would react when he finds out the truth.

I don't want him to be hurt like Marshal was. Mom died because I ran too fast. Rusty and Marshal died because I was curious.

And if Carl hates me because my lies, I don't blame him one tiny bit.

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A/N: It's crappy. I know. But I'm half asleep.

QOTD: How do you fangirl?
AOTD: either "I just– I just can't" or "asdfhhfkldllalsj" because they show my emotions very accurately.

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Word count:
1121

Edited 12-30-15
Edited 3-4-16