Doomed - The Walking Dead

Chapter Five

After I put my new clothes on, I gather my things and travel upstream. I don't want any water I get in the future to be tainted with Mike's foulness. I decided to leave my arrow in Andy's head so that if anyone finds the two of them, the arrow is basically saying "Hey, if you come across anyone with a bow, do not mess with them." My ear is still ringing from the gunshot right next to my head. Thanks, Mike. Hope I don't go deaf in that ear.
While my long black hair is just damp, I comb through it with my fingers and braid it. A while after this, I shoot a squirrel and hold onto it for later. Again, my time spent walking is uneventful. Eventually, my hearing returns to my left ear. At dusk, I build a small fire and repeat my actions from yesterday minus having to heat up my knife.
     The next morning, I continue my journey to god-knows-where. It's the 18th today. My birthday is in two days. Maybe I'll find a nice place to spend it before then.
     A few boring hours of me saying my broken record off and on later, I come across a large steel wall. It stands maybe 10 or so feet high. I look along the wall, and it goes on as far as I can see. I follow along it, until I reach a clearing that turns out to be a road. At this point, the wall appears to break into a gate. I step back to the middle of the road and gawk at the gate.
     Movement at the top of it to the right catches my eye. I catch a glimpse of somewhat spiky grey hair over the wall, but no face. "Hello?" I call to the person. The grey hair belongs to a woman. I lift my hands to show I'm not going to hurt her.
     "Are you alone?" She asks.
     I nod. "Yes. Have been."
     "Keep your hands above your head," she says to me. I nod again. She looks down on her side of the wall. "Eugene, open the gate!" She says.
     The gate slides open and a thicker man with black hair shaped into a mullet stands on the other side. I see three others approaching. I stay where I am, as I don't want them to think I'm charging on them. On the other side of the wall is a neighborhood. Very nice houses line the street, and people are walking around, talking, and laughing. A few stand in place looking towards me.
     A scruffy man in a tan shirt with small bandages all over his face gestures for me to come closer. "Come on in," he says with a slightly southern accent. I walk inside the walls with my hands still up, and the gate is closed behind me. "Lay down your weapons and everything you have," the man continues.
     Now, I'm practically circled by a few people. The mullet man, the grey-haired woman, a black woman with long dreadlocks, a man dressed in a jean vest with longer hair that almost covers his face, and the scruffy man. I lay my knives down, then my pistol, then I take my quiver and my bow off from across my body and lay them down in front of the man in the vest. I take my duffel bag off my shoulder and set it in front of the scruffy man.
     "You can search through it if you'd like," I say to him. "I have nothing to hide."
     He looks from my duffel to me. "Don't give us any problems, and that won't be necessary." I nod. "So you're alone?" I nod again. "How old are you?" He says in a sympathetic tone.
     "I'm about to turn 16," I answer.
     "About to?" He says, confused.
     I gesture to my duffel. "I've kept a notebook since the beginning. Every day I right the date. Helps keep me sane, ya know?"
     He and the black woman exchange a glance. "Where are your parents?"
     My parents. I've tried not to think too much about them. "They died the first day. I've been by myself the whole time."
     "How many walkers have you killed?" He asks.
     "Too many to count," I chuckle.
     He nods. "How many people have you killed?"
     This question brings a flash of anger and sadness across my face at the memory. "Three."
     "Why?"
     I just look at him. I'd rather not tell the story, but my answer may be the reason I could get to stay here. "I was washing myself by a stream. They came from behind the trees and... They tried to..." I can't bring myself to say it.
     "Say no more," the man says, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Welcome to Alexandria." Then he goes down the line of people calling out names. His name is Rick, then there's Carol, Michonne, Daryl, and Eugene.
     I turn my attention to Daryl. It's hard not to since he's glaring at me. He looks back and forth from my bow at his feet to my face. Then, without any emotion on his face, he holds his fist out to me. I smirk a bit and bump my fist against his. I'm taking this small gesture as a stamp of approval for my weapon-of-choice. Michonne chuckles.
     "My name is Rayne," I say. They all sort of look at each other. It's the same look people usually get when I tell them my name. Like they don't believe me or something.
     "Pick up your things and follow me," Rick says. I do as he says, and the small crowd disperses. Carol goes back to her watch tower, Eugene wanders away somewhere, and Michonne and Daryl follow Rick and I. As we walk down the street, Rick points out houses saying who they belong to, and he names the people who stand outside as we pass them. "My son Carl is around here somewhere," Rick says. "He's your age."
     My age? There are other teenagers? I don't know if I should be excited or feel bad. I know what it's been like for me to grow up in this world, and I'd always sort of hoped that no other kids were out there having to go through what I have. But then again, this Carl kid has had his dad. And all these people.
     "Have you been in this place the whole time?" I ask the three of them.
     "No," Rick says. "We haven't been here for very long."
     "Really?" I ask in disbelief. "You kinda seem like you run the place to me."
     Rick looks at Michonne and Daryl. "I'm working on that."
     I don't know how to take this sentence. Working on his leader attitude? Or working on becoming leader? Either way, I think I should be wary of Rick. And I should definitely be wary of Michonne. Now that we're walking, I can see the sword that's strapped to her back.
     She must've noticed me staring at the sheathed blade of death behind her. "Don't worry," she says in a reassuring voice. She snapped me out of my trance. "I won't use it on you unless you give me a reason to." I nod. "Don't give me a reason to," she continues. I frantically shake my head, intimidated.
     The four of us reach a house around a curve in the street and Rick knocks on the door. An older woman with shoulder length light brown hair that almost looks a bit orange opens the door. She looks depressed and heavily aged.
"Sorry to bother you, Deanna," Rick says to her. She stays silent. "This is Rayne," he gestures to me. I give a shy wave. "If it's alright with you, she'll be staying in Alexandria." He looks at me. "For a while."