To Be A Runner

Chapter 13: The Old Mill

I bounce on my toes as I stand at the gates, giddily ignoring the few murmurs from the townspeople as they walk by. Finally after a good week and a half of staying inside I'm anxious to go out and actually do something besides working in that God-awful kitchen. I hate that place, mostly because I have to do the dishes, also known as my most hated chore as a child.

Plus it'll get me away from Milo, Willis, and now Penelope's (still quiet but a bit more brave) constant following. It's flattering really, but that paired with Caleb constantly trying to make sure I'm okay and Sam apologizing for his words... it's becoming a tad too much.

"Raise the gates!" Sam yells, the familiar yet slightly less annoying alarm sounding off. "And go."

I sprint off out of Abel, grinning when I see there's no zoms I have to avoid. Since it's been a week or so, it'll take me a few minutes to get warmed up, so not having to worry about any zombies starting off is a blessing.

"Hey, Runner Five..." Sam says softly, "how are you doing after that night run through zombie territory?"

I sigh, tapping out my reply over my mic. 'It's been over a week. I'm fine-'

"I know you said you were okay," He argues, although his voice still has its calm tone. "But you did try to, you know, hang yourself just so you wouldn't get bitten. So, are you sure you're-"

"Runner Five is doing fine," an American voice cuts him off. "Did the checkup myself-just the normal effects of shock and cold."

Really regretted leaving that jacket.

"She had no cuts, no broken bones-"

"No bite marks." I can hear the smile in his voice as he says that.

"And the only contusions she got were from the fall when she arrived and uh, from the rope." There's a bit of hesitation in the doctor's voice but I ignore it, and instead focus on keeping my breathing steady.

It wasn't the smartest choice I ever made when I tried to kill myself, but I would have definitely had to put an axe through my brain if I had gotten bit. So what other choice did I really have?

"It's useful for us," the doctor continues. "We're building evidence that the walking dead may have poorer vision than we thought.

"Yeah, although..." Sam lets out a very forced laugh, "not poor enough to start doing night operations, right? Right?"

God, I hope not. Because I never want to put myself through that again.

"I don't think anyone sees any need for that, Sam."

"Good," He breathes, "because I can't cope with another one of those."

'Took the words right out of my hands, Sam,' I tap quickly against the mic, smiling when I hear a airy chuckle in response.

"I'm guessing she said something funny?" Dr. Meyers guesses.

"Uh, yeah. Sort of..." He responds, and I wait to see if he'll explain my little joke or not. "So, ah, what's on the cards today, Doc? See? I could've said 'what's up, Doc?' I don't that'd be inconsiderate but I like to make my own material every once and awhile."

I roll my eyes, grabbing my backpack strap for a quick second. I roll my shoulders in experimentation and wince at the pain that comes at doing so, but still noting it isn't nearly as bad as it used to be. With my neck and shoulders still needing to recover I can't swing my arms like I'm used to. It messes up my rhythm and I'm not too fond of it.

Dr. Meyers says something in response to Sam's comment, but I don't quite catch it. Then she addresses me.

"Just a quiet training mission today, Runner Five, just to see how you're fairing. You'll be passing through an area where med pacs have been dropped. I wanna get on a research project but I don't have enough basic equipment yet." I nod as she continues to explain. "And then out to the old mill-east of the city-we think there's some food stored there. Ready? Time to run."