Our Precious Time

Part 2: Backstabber

Ryan woke me up the next morning. The sun was right in my eyes when I opened them and I groaned, making him laugh.

"How's your leg?" I ask, rubbing my sleepy eyes and sitting up.

He shrugs, handing my backpack to me. "Better than yesterday."

I nod, scooting towards him. "Let me see,"

He sits down in front of me and pulls his pant leg up to his knee. I unwrap the bandages and inspect the cut. It doesn't look great, but it's not inflamed or turning colors. "Looks good," I nod again, wrapping his leg back up and scooting away.

He smiles, "Good. Thank you."

After a while, there were only a few Draggers left in the alley, so I grabbed my stuff and Ryan grabbed his and we made it down the ladder together. I gripped my large machete and swung it into the side of what used to be an older man's head. But he's not a person anymore. He's an it. Its skin is so rotten that my blade slides through it easily, making a sickening crunching sound when metal meets skull. Thick, brownish-red blood seeps from the thing's skull as it crumbles to the ground. I place my foot sternly on its shoulder and pull my blade free from the mix of squishy, soft brain and hard bone.

"That was impressive," Ryan snickers mockingly, hobbling over to me.

"Can you do any better, Gimpy?" I smirk, motioning to his hurt leg with my machete. He looks a little hurt when I say "Gimpy", but he hobbles over to the last Dragger and taps it on the shoulder. It turns to look at him with an angry, rotting snarl and reaches for him. I'm just about to run over, but Ryan simply grabs what used to be a teenage girl with beautiful hair by her curls and smashes her head into the brick wall beside us.

"Who's gimpy now?" He turns and smirks, wiping his bloodied hand on his pant leg.

I shrug. "Still you." I stride to the opening of the alleyway, peeking around the corner. "Besides," I whisper, "who do you think you are? Joel from The Last of Us? What kinda move was that?"

"Hey," Ryan protests, hobbling up beside me and placing a hand on my shoulder to steady himself. "Don't judge, that was a great game with an amazing story."

I roll my eyes, trying not to smile. He's right, it was pretty great. "Please, Telltale's The Walking Dead was SO much better." I smirk, trying to hide my lie. TWD was good, but I really loved The Last of Us.

His jaw drops and he shakes his head, staring at me. "I can't believe I trusted you with my life. You're a monster."

After checking the road to make sure it was clear we started on our way, Ryan's right arm around my shoulders and my left arm around his waist to keep him steady. We'd been talking for a while, telling each other about our lives before people started rotting and eating each other.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ryan smirks, hobbling along with me. "Your name is Delilah AND you're from New York?" He laughs, his chest bouncing. "That's priceless!"

I realize as I watch him laugh that he has the kind of smile that's contagious. It's the kind of smile that girls would swoon over before the Flu shot started killing everyone instead of saving them. I guess my face turns solemn, because he looks at me and his million-watt smile fades quickly.

"If you don't mind me asking..." He starts, looking at me out of the corner of his eye as we hobble down the side of the road. "Did you lose anyone? In the first few weeks when all this started? From the shot, I mean."

I sigh, taking a moment to stop and pull up my pants and then we move on. A few minutes of silence pass and then I speak, making Ryan's head pop up in surprise.