Human

Our breathing was labored as we walked through the uncut grass, under the canopy of tall trees and clumps of dark green leaves. Birds were chirping in the foliage, the sun beating down on our bowed heads. I limped forward, trying to stay at a good pace as Abby slowed down behind me. Her lungs sounded like they might fail on her as we fled through the woods. I turned my head around to see that she had dropped to the ground, her sobs feeling like I had been stabbed with a dull knife. I didn't have time to cry, not anymore. There were things to be done now that we were unprotected.

"We have to keep moving," I said, making my way to her. I lent out a hand, wincing as her weight was applied to my wounded leg.

"I can't," she cried, tears streaming down her dirtied face. "Just leave me here."

"Get up," I raised my voice, out of patience. "We have to find the others."

"They're gone!" she screamed, clamping a hand over her mouth as she realized we were in the open. A walker came out of the covering of tree trunks, snarling at us. More were sure to follow it, and I didn't plan on being here when they showed up.

"Some of them may still be alive," I hissed, dropping her hand as I trudged forward, following a dirt path now as I exited the grass.

The walker followed after me instead of Abby, like I had wanted it to. Though my leg was badly hurt, I could still walk well enough to coax it my direction. I tugged on the waist band of my jeans, tucking the barrel of the gun behind me, making sure it faced from my body with a quick peek. Before I knew it, Abby was behind the walker, sending a frightful look my way. I ushered for her to take hold of it, one swift motion being all that was needed before I killed it. She dropped it on the ground as I re-sheathed my blade. I didn't look back as I wandered ahead, knowing well that she would follow me just to stay alive. I wasn't sure where we were going, but anywhere was better than here. Her soft crying let me know she was still around as I searched for shelter. After about twenty minutes of walking we came to a clearing, the ceiling of leaves opening up to reveal a bright, burning sun. I looked above me, checking to make sure we had plenty of daylight to find a place for the night.

"Where are we goin'?" she sniffed, jogging to catch up with me.

"Anywhere is better than here," I replied grimly. We came to a small hill; it took me a minute to walk up it. The hill lead to a road, packed tightly with cars that had been left scattered.

"You're bleedin'," she mumbled, but I didn't reply. The throbbing in my leg was still very much present, but I had to find a place for the night.

"There!" I said, pointing to a small, white house at the far end of the littered street. We breathed in a sigh of relief, almost running, if we could have managed, to the house. I took the first few steps up to the porch, the white wood creaking under my boots. The entrance was a double door, scuffed and beaten in from walkers.

"Do you know how to use this?" I asked her, handing over the gun so that she would be armed if necessary. She nodded quickly, taking it with unsteady hands as I took my hunting knife from its sheath. "Follow me. We need to make sure its clear before anything else, understand?"

Another nod. It felt like I was talking to Summer now; I was right back where I started. "Only use this is you have to. We should do this quietly."

I took hold of one of the doorknobs, jiggling it to find it was locked. I groaned, pushing my body against the doorframe as I rammed the end of my knife into the lock, prying it apart. I slammed my body into it full force, causing it to swing open suddenly. I stumbled over my feet, panting as we entered the house. Abby shut the door behind us, following me cautiously. I could tell se hadn't been outside in a long time by how she walked. She looked scared shitless, and maybe it was best that way. Scared meant being alive.

We made our way into the kitchen, coming to find it empty. I signaled for her to head another way as I crossed into what looked to be a living room. My breath hitched, spotting the top of a man's head over a sofa. Abby came out of another exit, ending up in front of the sofa and me. She shrieked, eyes growing huge as she covered her mouth, shaking her head as I asked what was wrong. I crossed over the couch, sighing as I found only a rotting corpse. She looked at me like I was crazy, as I seemed to be unbothered by it. I was just happy to see it wasn't a walker.

"Where are you goin'?" she yelped, running after me like a scared kid. She clutched my arm as I pulled myself up the first few steps.

"Gotta check the whole house," I reminded her, rolling my eyes as she slowly let go of my arm, allowing me to head up the staircase. "Think you can check the rest of it?"

"Y-yeah," she blinked, as if she was being struck with the reality of our situation. I watched her turn down the hallway across from the living room.

The upstairs was quiet and messy. I took timid steps down the hall, swinging each door open quickly before straining my neck to check for walkers. After every room was open, I made for a more thorough look. I made sure nothing was in any of the bathrooms, other than of course, something already dead. I shut the bathroom door quietly that was built into one of the smaller bedrooms, having found a small kid slumped against the toilet, brains splattered on the wall where a bullet had killed him. I exited the room after making sure the entrance was shut, leaning over the railing of the staircase.

"Upstairs is clear!" I called down, waiting for Abby's reply.

"There's nothin' down here," she said, running from under the stairs to look up at me. "Just an office and a bedroom." I made my way back downstairs, my legs feeling like they'd collapse. I dropped my backpack on the sofa next to the man we had found, glancing at him for a moment before unzipping the bigger pouch. I looked from his rotted face to the shotgun resting easy against the man's legs. Maybe it still had ammunition. I'd have to remind myself to check later.

"Help me move this," I muttered, the two of us taking hold of a recliner chair, scooting it against the front door to make a temporary barrier.

"You think it'll hold?" she asked, giving me a questionable look.

"It'll have to," I replied, snatching the rope from my bag next. I walked to the knobs, looping the rope around them before tightly knotting it. Next, I made a figure eight a few times around the two of them, tying the ends off securely. I pulled on the rope as tight as I could before dropping the extra length of it. I pulled on the knobs, finding they didn't budge much now. We could rest easy knowing the house was safe for however long we planned to stay for.

Abby looked at me strangely as I walked lamely back to the couch.

"I'll be back," I muttered, grabbing my bag before heading upstairs once more. The walk was painful but I didn't care, I just had to make sure the bullet wasn't stuck in my leg. Without a doctor, an infection would start for sure. Pushing open the bathroom door at the end of the hall, rummaging through my bag, unclasping my sheath; these proved to be challenging. Next, I unbuttoned my jeans before taking a few deep breathes, peeling them off slowly. When it came close to the wound, I bit down on my lip, a sharp pain shooting through my leg as I ripped the clothing off that was fastened to my calve by my own drying blood. I threw the jeans to the ground, slumping to the floor to sit crisscross to better see the back of my leg. I sighed in relief, a gash in my leg but no bullet hole to be spotted. It looked like the bullet had just grazed my leg, causing a deep gash alone the length of it. It hadn't gone completely through it, which was good for me. Alcohol, gauze, needle, and thread were laid out in front of me now as I prepared to stitch it myself. I was about to try and close up the wound before Abby called my name.

"Yeah?" I yelled back before jumping at the sound of a knock on the door.

"What are you doin'?" she asked, trying to push open the door. "Let me in," she said, and I scooted away from the door as she opened it, giving me the craziest look. "Do you wanna get an infection?!" she yelled, shaking her head at me.

"I have to close it!" I yelled back, standing up with my one good leg while the other balanced on my toes.

"Let me stitch it," she replied, telling me to sit on the toilet lid. The bathroom was surprisingly clean, which was why I chose to do it here. I figured I might get the needle dirty any other place. I watched her thread the needle before soaking it in alcohol. She turned to me now, the needle ready.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I asked, swallowing hard.

"Do you?" she bit back, and I shrugged. She had a point; I wasn't a doctor. I knew the gist of it; that was it. "Here."

Abby handed me the point of the needle, busy in thought. She looked around the room before spotting a door in the mirror, opening the small closet behind her, looking for god knows what. After a moment she tossed out two rags, handing one to me while she drenched the other in more alcohol. "Bite down on that," she instructed, and I raised my eyebrows before inhaling sharply as she applied the rag to my leg. I bit into the rag, grunting as I grabbed a fist full of her shirt. It was much worse than the time Hershel had done it, that was for sure. "Almost done," she stated, patting it before taking the needle in her left hand, ready to stitch the wound.

"Shit!" I screamed, biting on the rag as hard as I could, feeling like my jaw just might snap. I murmured into the cloth as she began to thread the soaked thread through my skin. She was sitting next to me, able to see the back on my calve clearly as I shook my other leg absent mindedly to calm myself.

"Just a little more," she said, as I blinked back tears, breathing in through my nose as I stared at her nimble hands working the needle through quickly. I felt the thread tug on my skin as a tear ran down my cheek, before she chewed on it with her teeth, separating the threat with ease. "Better?"

I glared at her as she stood up, collecting the belongings into the backpack before picking up my knife. I stood up from the seat, walking forward slowly, applying pressure on my leg slightly before it began to burn. "Don't walk too much," she said, as I gripped the doorframe, making my way to one of the bedrooms to raid it for new clothing. She acted as my shadow as I limped forward, opening drawers to look for new jeans. "Here," she said, tossing me a dark blue pair that looked to be my size. I sat on the end of the bed, carefully pulling my legs through before standing up to button them. They were lose on me all around as I fastened my belt through the loops.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked, turning away from her as I laid out a new shirt as well as a jacket. The shirt was a dark grey, and jacket black. I pulled the very dirty button up over my head before re-dressing myself, keeping the jacket unzipped. "You should find some new clothes, too," I said quietly, bundling up the old ones to throw on the floor.

"My momma taught me," she replied softly, and I looked at her, feeling so guilty and overwhelmed that I couldn't save her like I had Abby. I sighed, grabbing my sheath from the dresser top as I hobbled out of the room.

"I'll go find something for us to eat," I said, glancing at her sadly before making my way down stairs.

"There's only a little in the kitchen," I said to her as she made her way down the last few steps. "Found some canned food in the kitchen."

She walked into the kitchen where I was presently at, taking a seat at the table as I placed a can of soup in front of her. She looked at it like she was disgusted as I took a seat in front of her, clasping my hands together. I handed her a spoon I had collected from one of the drawers, giving her a faint smile as she pulled the lid off the can. Her stomach growled loudly as she began to eat it.

"You're not hungry?" she asked, pausing about half way into the can.

"You eat it, I'll find more food tomorrow," I said, but she was stubborn, setting the can on the table before pushing it toward me.

"You need to eat, too," she said, crossing her arms. I furrowed my eyebrows, unclasping my hands to place them on the edge of the table.

"I'm not hungry," I said. I wished she'd just eat the damn soup; it wasn't like there was enough to go around. "You're still sick. Just eat it."

"But you haven't eaten once today!" she argued, causing me to stand up from the table, my hands spread on the table. I leaned in toward her a bit, her eyes finding anywhere to rest but on mine.

"Eat it." I stood up from the table, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs. There was no time for bullshit anymore. We had to find food and soon, but I could do without for a little while. There was no other way I could find to make her listen to me unless I acted this way. Normally, she would ignore me and brush off what I said like how she did at the prison, but these weren't normal times. I had to do something, to keep us both alive until we found the others.

I chose to sleep in the room toward the hall bathroom, finding it clean for the most part. Abby hadn't come upstairs, and I figured maybe she was keeping her distance from me. It looked like most people hadn't come up here, deciding to raid for food and weapons rather than clothes. I slung the two bags down we had managed to get as we fled the prison. The black pouch sat there, waiting for me to open it. I ran my fingers through my hair before plucking it from the nightstand, sitting on the bed as my thin fingers undid the knot keeping its contents protected. I pulled the drawstring apart, holding the fabric open as I dumped out what was inside. I stood up from the bed, staring at what had fallen out. I reached my hand out, turning over a can that looked to be unopened formula. Wiping my nose with the end of my jacket sleeve, I picked up a sheriff badge that gleamed in the early morning light from the window directly behind the bed. I passed my thumb over it, wiping off a small amount of dust that had collected on it. I laid it back on the bed, holding up what looked like a picture frame next.

I turned it over, wiping the glass with my sleeve before staring at the picture underneath it. I cradled it carefully, as if it was the most fragile thing on Earth. I sat back down on the mattress slowly; looking around the room to see it was empty. My reflection stared back at me in the glass as I gazed down at the family photo. It had to have been years ago, because Rick and Carl looked much different now. Next to Carl was a woman with bright eyes and a big smile, her arm around his shoulders. I took a guess and decided it was his mom, the one that had died giving birth to Judith. I glanced between the formula, back to Carl's mom, hoping she was still alive. My vision blurred, blinking as a few tears fell onto the glass. I held my head in my hand, setting the frame down as I brought my palms up to cover my face. I finally let myself cry for a few minutes, my body shaking with sobs before I pulled myself together.

"You'll find them," I told myself as I stood from the mattress.

I emptied my backpack next, making sure to leave the items for Abby when she found I wasn't in the house. I zipped up the pack after dumping what was lying on the bed, walking down the staircase quietly, hearing her very soft crying. She had been a mess ever since dinner, finally mourning all of her losses. Very carefully, I walked into the kitchen, eying the gun she had left there. The other magazine was in my room; I figured I didn't need to use it. She was located down the hall from the living room, and was probably so invested in her own thoughts that she wouldn't hear me leave. I opened the back door soundlessly, closing it shut as I made my way through the fenced back yard, and onto the road to look for supplies.

This world will never be
What I expected
And if I don't belong

Even if I say
It'll be alright
Still I hear you say
You want to end your life
Now and again we try
To just stay alive
Maybe we'll turn it all around
'Cause it's not too late
It's never too late