Clementine x Male reader : We Are Monsters

Chapter 26

Y/N Pov :

Two weeks have passed since the incident in the Motel, and things are actually better than you thought it'd be. Lydia had a few breaks down, but by staying on her side at any time, she's actually doing better. Everyone in the camp is still doing great, even if they were shocked for a bit with what happened, and things are back to normal. Food is okay, water is okay, gas is okay, pretty much everything is okay. Except for one thing. Your cuts on the ribs sealed up without any problem, but your finger... that's another thing. The first sensation is that each time you wake up, you take a look at the bandage, and you have to remember that you lost your finger, that it won't grow back. That already sucks, but what is really, really pissing you off is the permanent itching caused by both the phantom sensation and the cicatrization process. You just want to rip off the bandages and scratch the shit out of your finger until it bleeds, to stop that infernal itching.

Right now, you're chilling on the roof of the gas station, your arms crossed under your neck, just looking at the clouds. The sun is frying everyone alive. It didn't rain since forever, and pretty much everything outside is just burned by the merciless rays of sun. The grass is yellowish, burned, the tar so hot that resting your hand against it is a torture, the air being distorted in the distance. Each thing you do seems to cost you all your energy. You removed your leather jacket, and you're still sweating hard inside your shirt, even if you're layed down next to an air conditioner set on the roof, enjoying the shadow it gives to you.

- C'mon, it's your turn now, says Lydia from the chair she's sitting on.

You sighed, and get up while streching your arms and blinking a few times. Lydia pecked you on the lips, and layed down next to the air conditioner, snuggling up to have her whole body protected from the sun. You grabbed your rifle, which you use for lookout duty, and sat on a green plastic chair, taking a look at the surrondings from time to time, looking down at your feet, the rifle on your knees. You wipe off the sweat of your forehead every ten seconds or so. You'd bet that the outside is at least at 95 °F / 35 °C.

Everyone from the camp went inside the gas station, looking for some fresh air. Unfortunately, someone has to keep guard. You did a rock paper scissors, and you lost. Lydia went outside with you to make rotations every fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes outside is a pure torture. Even thinking straight is a challenge. Your mouth is dry, your lips cracked. You drinked half of a bottle of water, your throat giving you the impression to be littered by glass shatters.

On the road, slaloming its way behind the wrecks at 300 feet from here, bumping against them sometimes, you notice a shadow slowly limping its way towards the gas station. You take a look through your scope, the sweat around your eye making the edge of the scope sticky. The shadow is ragged, one of its legs twisted backwards, dragged behind the shadow. One of its arms is missing, and its skull is bald, covered of a thin film of green mold. A huge and deep cut is visible on the biter's left cheek, its teeth exposed. It seems to know exactly where to go. Right at you. In fact, during this two weeks, biters attacks became more frequently. Probably a few were the remnants of the crowd of biters which were following the noise of your car, and the rest seemed to follow... like a scent. They're attracted by humans, maybe by instinct or some specific reason. Staying put in a stationary camp is never a good thing. It ended badly for Woodbury, it'll end badly here too. The biter raises its head, and you can see its empty gaze fixed on you, like if it was staring at you through the scope. It probably noticed the glitter of the sun reflecting on the scope. It starts to mechanically bite in the air, still looking right at you, and speeds up the best it can.

This sent goosebumps down your limbs. That was so creepy.

- Lydia ?

- What ? she grumbles while resting on her elbows and looking at you.