Stick Together

What Lies Ahead

"You didn't need to do that."

The words, silence-breakers, were deflected by Dakota's distant ears. They would have to be repeated several times before he even heard them.

"Yes I did," he blankly replied.

"No, none of that was necessary," Cameron countered as she squished her face with her hostile, dark brown eyebrows. Her face had been subtly changed from the day of the outbreak. A tiny scar above her lip was noticeable, but mainly, the once pretty, smooth, acne-free face was caked in dirt and blood, most of which was not hers.

"Shooting Jesse sure as hell wasn't necessary," he spat back. His face had underwent minimal changes with just a few cuts and bruises.

"You didn't have to let her suffer," Cameron looked at Dakota intently. "I know you didn't want to do that. You didn't have to."

Dakota did not respond. He only walked quicker and with longer strides to avoid continuing the morally heavy conversation. Cameron was right. He regretted not the fact that the deed was done, but the fact he was the one to do it. Only a week ago, even days ago, he would not have come close to thinking about killing Elle. But he also never suspected she'd accidentally injure an already once-crippled friend.

Just a second away, on the other side of the group's convoy, Jesse lay in the tired arms of Kenny and Andrea, unconscious from his potentially fatal gunshot wound. The .32 caliber round pierced his lower abdomen on the left-hand side, and exited at almost the reciprocal of the entry wound. The bullet missed everything important and was only a flesh wound. But in the days of apocalypse, flesh wounds could kill. With the newly healed sprained ankle, Jesse could've won 'Most Injured' at the Zombys, a hypothetical parody thought up by a bored Lily and Elle earlier in the month. Thankfully for Jesse, his biggest concern, other than bleeding to death, was lead poisoning or infection. Although not too bright, these were still better than the unthinkable alternatives.

"He's gettin' a little heavy," Kenny huffed with exhaustion. "Can someone tag me out?"

"I'll do it," Becca volunteered. "He doesn't look that heavy." He was. At 6 foot, 3 inches, Jesse weighed in at an impressive 185 pounds. A very fit young man, he was always being impaired by injury.

"How's that toe, Lily?" Andrea called back to the limping girl. Aaron was assisting her in her venture.

"Just fucking peachy," she smiled, sarcastically. Forced to wear a walker's shoe, she was limping even more than she should as the shoe was a size too small. "I really wish a still had ten toes still, but that's about it."

The hatchet that had severed the pinky toe was strapped to Dakota's waist, swaying back and forth each time he stepped, and each time he stepped, he winced in slight pain from being pinned by the late Elle. His mind ran wildly with fragmented thoughts of her, almost forming a complete thought about how he missed her. Oddly, her obsessive cling to him pleased Dakota. Without that, he felt a slight emptiness within himself. A piece of his past and present self suddenly turned up missing despite several attempts at finding it.

His deep thought was cut short to a loud, abrupt coughing fit. Jesse had finally awoken from his 28-hour coma. However, it'd be several more hours, even weeks before Dakota would awaken from his emotional coma.