Sneaky

Chapter 129

The world seemed to speed up and sharpen all at once as a vicious wet growl just behind me had me rolling under the commuter car beside the truck without thinking once again.

I rolled straight out the other side and my legs burned as soon as I flailed onto my feet and into a run, playing ring-a-round-the-frickin-rosy with a walker that could probably just reach over the top of the car and grab me if it were smart enough. It only bought me a few feet of a head start though.

'I'm not gonna have enough time to open the door.'

I ran like the road runner and dove (in probably the coolest flip ever) into the bed of the truck and the moment I cleared the edge, my whole body slammed into the back gate as the truck peeled out, leaving the garage and the house in the dust.

I held my mouth, my front teeth zinging into my brain and all the way down to my toes as I grabbed the edge and pulled myself to sit up.

The trees whooshed by on either side of the matted dirt road, reflected on the green hood of the car behind us.

I let go of my mouth, hissing at the aching tremble in my shins, the burning in my bones.

Slapping my palms against the black truck bed, my kneecaps ground into it as I crawled my way towards the front passenger side.

I reached around and knocked on the window and the truck immediately began to slow down followed by the glass disappearing into the door.

Using the edge and with a quiet hiss, I got to my feet — keeping hold of the side and moving one hand to the roof to keep me steady — and maneuvered my leg through the window.

'This is a lot harder than it looks on TV.' It took a minute and involved sitting on the window edge before I was able to get both my legs in and limbo the rest of me into the front passenger seat of the twin cab.

'Ooo spacious.' I immediately got comfy in the roomy leather seats, only a slight layer of dust covering most of the interior.

Whoever owned this truck, loved it. That much is obvious. It was probably their pride and joy.

"What happened? Let me see." Daryl reached over, taking his eyes off the road every other second.

My face scrunched as I pulled my legs up, trying not to make it seem like it hurts as much as it does as I braced my feet on the flat dashboard and — carefully — rolled up the ends of my jeans.

Dark purple and yellow-ish green surrounded wicked indents on both of my poor shins. You can see the latches and everything.

It wouldn't hurt so bad if the throbbing wasn't radiating pain all the way up my legs.

"What the Hell is that?" Daryl grabbed my knee a lot less aggressively than the speed in which his hand came towards it, suggested it was gonna be, and for that I'm grateful because I can't feel anything below his hand aside from my aching bones on either leg.

"Toolbox." I grumbled, just now taking notice of how my jaw is trying to turn my molars to bone dust.

"Jesus Christ, Eve." Daryl breathed, voice like gravel but unsurprised.

My gut tightened, even though it really wasn't my fault this time.

There's no way I could have known that walker was right outside the door, or that it would be so big — I couldn't even reach it's head even if I'd had my knife in hand when I reacted.

We've been trying to find safer ways to do things, Glenn and I brainstorm every few days — usually after or for an event, like today — but testing them is the real danger. Cause if they don't work or if something bizarre happens, anything we didn't anticipate could give us a new grave.

"What's wrong?"

I looked at Daryl in confusion.

"Yer scowlin'."

Was I?

I sighed, putting my feet back on the floor and turned my scowl onto myself through the side mirror.

"Just... frustrated." I pulled my knee up, letting it rest against the door.

"Feel better if ya say it." Daryl leaned against his own door, chewing on his thumbnail. That's disgusting. Doesn't he remember where his hands have been today? Cause he had my shoe in his hands earlier, and I know some of the crap I've traipsed through that's probably still there.

"Me? Talk?"

"Don't seem to have a problem when it's just the two of us." Daryl shrugged, motioning between us.

'Touche' I shrugged, moving to pick at a loose thread on my knee. Well, at least the end is good for one thing: authentically ripped jeans.

"I'm tired of this."

Daryl looked at me for longer than he probably should have, after he pulled out onto the road at the end of the long driveway.

"Tired of simple things being really dangerous." I pulled my hair tie out, letting the wind from the open window whip it around.

"What do you want?" Hm. I expected him to say something like... I don't know what I expected. It just wasn't for him to actually sound curious.

I sat up a little more. "I wanna find a way to make it— this, safer. Less risky."

"How? Ya got any ideas?"

"Work in progress." I sagged against the seat again.

"But at least today worked out. I got my new truck." I pet the dash.

"Yer new truck?"

"Yes, Daryl." I looked directly at him. "My new truck."

Don't fight me on this, Dixon. You've got your brother's bike. This is my baby and I ain't lettin' go of it so easy.

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