"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I don't think I got you're name."
"Because I didn't tell ya my name,"
When survival is no longer living its time to take back their world from the dead. Can they do it together or is being so similar to each other more toxic...
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Day one:
It's come to the point where I need to narrate my own life. This is just sad.
Will has put me on shit shovelin' duty. I basically just sit in the back of the truck. Once we get to our rest stop for the night I will get the first and longest watch shift. At least I can sit in relative silence. Will and fat Micheal won't stop arguin' over how to get to Paris. Will thinks my mapping skills ain't shit and I'm going to lead them into a trap to kill us all. Negan gave us rations for five days. Let's hope that's enough.
"Dakota! What's our water at?" Comes wills voice. I lean over rolling on to my stomach to read the rippling level on the side of the water jug.
"Half!" I call back sittin' up. Behind us, small clusters of skin walkers have shuffled on to the road, attracted by the engine rumble.
"Should probably pull over then-" "No. We'll stop at dark. Might as well take the bitches route. Spent an entire day driving in circles, Negan only gave us supplies for her route."
I smirk proudly. That's right, Negan thinks I'm better than these idiots. I lean my head back against the side of the truck, my neck strains as my head lolls from side to side over uneven sections of road.
"Man I gotta take a piss. Pull over." Jason complains from his seat behind Will. Adam groans sitting up from Jason's lap.
"Fine!" Will growls jerking harshly off to the side of the road.
"Dakota! Go deal with those biters." Will orders as Jason steps off the back of the truck and straight into the woods completely ignoring the skin walkers.
I step off the truck in boredom. I draw my machete from my side. With a fluid motion I plunge my machete into the first skin walkers head.
The skin walker crumples to the ground, pullin' my machete with it. I press my boot to the side of its rotten cheek And pull, beneath the toe of my boot skin squishes and blood splatters from beneath my boot.
AAAHHH!!
I spin around towards the forest. Will, Adam and fat Michael hop out of the truck. Standing' at the forests edge.
I abandon the idea of chasing after Jason. Barely four hours into our trip Someone is dead.
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Day two:
The cold wind whistles through the trees. I shiver, tightening my jacket as I sit on top of the truck.
Third night, first watch. It's cold, it's eerily quiet and I hate it.
With Jason gettin' bit another day of rations will go around. Amazed I got even a half the extra day. Meaning we still have four days go reach Paris find supplies and get back to the sanctuary.
I miss Mateo so much.
I hate these idiots. Will, Adam and fat Micheal treat me like nothin' I'm just the bitch that got Danny killed. Danny was tryin to run with the big dogs when he should've stayed under the porch.
Will, Adam and fat Micheal... They could throw themselves at the ground and miss, I'm actually scared for my own life.
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Day three:
We should've been in Paris by now, Will thinks we need to pull over every gas station and corner store, he thinks it's worth it. Dumbass.
I don't understand how they got as high as they did, or how Negan tolerates them. He probably doesn't have to. Being Mr. hair gel, he goes along all day with it in 'is ears, blocks them out I'm sure.
Will, Adam and fat Micheal sleep inside the truck, they will for 'nother hour or so before it will switch up.
SNAP
I leap up, picking up the large sniper Will brought with us for watch. A lone skin walker shuffles from the trees. It's a waste to shoot it. I drop the gun to the roof, swiftly climbing down the side of the truck to kill the skin walker.
With little effort I impale it's head on the end of my blade. It's body drops to the ground.
A snarl echoes off the wind whipped trees, I step closer to the trees, feet silent through the waist high whispering grass.
A skin walker pounces through the trees, striking me with its dead Weight.
I shriek in surprise, dropping my machete to the ground.
"What's going on?!" Will shouts from the truck. I fight to keep the walker off my neck with one hand, my fingertips brushing the handle of my discarded blade. I drive it through the skin walkers skull, but from the ground I see them. Hundreds of them.
"It's a herd!" I declare shoving the corpse off me to run for the truck.
Will screams. I rush for the truck to find Will bein' dragged down by skin walkers. They've surrounded us. Comin' from both sides of the road. Floodin' the pavement. I scramble for the truck only to watch fat Micheal, now very much dead stumble from the truck, jaws caked in blood, flesh hangin' from his teeth and fingernails.
Behind me skin walkers slap my jacket. Nails scraping up the smooth leather. What am I going to do?
I run for the truck, getting low I tackle fat Micheal out of the way, rolling into the truck off his body before he can recover and attack.
Blood is splattered everywhere. The walls are smeared, the floor swims. The foul odor Of bodily fluids and drying blood make my head spin and my stomach scream. The remains of Adam spill across the floor, narrowly missin' my rucksack. It's got shit stained on the outer sides. The truck rocks. I snatch my rucksack, using the driver window I climb up on top of the truck again, collecting the sniper.
The truck is surrounded. From all sides, the dead sing. Decaying hands claw uselessly at the sides. The truck rocks again, this time it sags further into the ditch as a gunshot sounds. The tire deflates, throwing me sideways.
Stupidly the sniper is thrown from my grip, striking a few clueless bastards as it falls. The world continues to rock, the night blinds the senses. Everything looks similar in shape and color. Nothin' screams help. Nothing will save me.
Bang!
The truck once again lurches as the tire pops. My heart drops into my gut, my fingers shake and my blood chills. The truck begins to tip. I back up, my boots sliding on the slick top.
