~Night time~
The stars shine bright like a nightlight in a pitch black room. The man with the crossbow leads the way without saying a word to me. I follow closely behind also not saying a word. I clear my parched, slender throat. I break the awkward silence by asking a question.
"What's your name," I ask looking up to him.
He's at least six inches taller than me. It is an easy question. It isn't nosy or rude. Just simple. He looks at me with his piercing eyes. He blinks focusing his eyes on mine.
"Daryl," he says in a country drawl. It's hoarse but rustic. Perfect is another word for it.
"My name is Cassie," I whisper holding back a smile. This is not the time to be happy.
We reach this group, no more than 30 people. They all herd around a small but I bet warm fire. A man stands up off his chair stomping over to me. I get nervous and grip my gun. He grabs my arm ripping out the gun. He unloads it and tosses it to the side. He throws my bag next to my gun, patting me down. I keep quiet.
"She's clean!" He yells to the group over near the fire. He takes my stuff walking over to a recently boughten RV. He throws my stuff in there and shuts it. I don't protest; it wouldn't be smart. The man walks back to me. He puts his hand out extending it like a handshake. He clears his throat.
"The name is Mark." He says quiet but loud enough for me to hear.
I shake his hand back with tight grip.
"My name is Cassie," I say embarrassed.
He nods leading me to the group. He sits me down next to him handing me a plate of what looks like fish and mac and cheese. I look up at the group into their eyes.
"Thank you," I whisper smiling.
I eat my meal thanking them every bite. Mark leads me to a gray tent next to his. He pats my back and reassures me that everything is going to alright. I smile small unsure what to think. I climb into the tent and lay down on the mattress and blankets they have made. I pull the soft teal blue and fuzzy blanket up to my chin, falling asleep. I dream about Mom and Emma.
