Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SHOCK. IT COURSED through Samantha's veins when those shutters opened. The bright lights shined upon them as if they were the gates of heaven, ready to end their damnation with their sanctuary.
Hope.
Samantha remembered Dale saying once that words are such meager things that fall short. She can now understand what he meant by that.
Shane ushered his sister inside and kept her close, his system on high alert, his gun raised. "Daryl, you cover the back!" He ordered, his voice echoing off the walls around them. Samantha felt the familiar sensation of air conditioning, it soothing the sweat from her body. That meant there was electricity.
The sound of a gun cocking made every survivor whip around to face the source. Samantha could make out a man that descended from the darkness, his messy hair unkept and blonde, dark bags under the emptiness of his eyes. "Anybody infected?!" His voice came out as a shout, his gun aimed and ready to defend himself.
Rick lowered his gun, trying to show that they don't mean any harm. "One of our group was. He didn't make it." He admitted, this fact not fazing the man.
With a guarded look, he still kept the gun raised. "Why are you here and what do you want?" He demanded.
"A chance."
"That's asking an awful lot these days," The man responded, before his eyes slid to Nathan, trailing up and down the military style pants and combat boots. Then they found the dog tags. "Army?"
Nathan slowly nodded.
"Your men tried to protect this place, didn't work out well," His voice was unsettling monotoned, as if he had become desensitized to the world around him. "How's it looking out there?"
Nathan swallowed, his stormy eyes filled with exhaustion. "Barely surviving, sir."
The man continued to peer at him, before finally lowering his gun. "You all submit to a blood test, that's the price of admission." The scientist spoke, and Samantha felt any color leave her face, her fear of needles apparent.
Carl seemed to be thinking the same thing as he looked up at his mother. "I don't want to." His voice was small and faltering.
Samantha opened her mouth to protest, but Rick beat her to it. "We can do that." She glared at the back of his head, hoping she was burning holes.
