Malevolent. The Walking Dead

[ 016 ] the sky remains

016: the sky remains

It was nightfall by the time the group reached a tangible shelter for the night. At least, it was a possible shelter for the night. There were minimal rotters swarming the outside, those of which they had taken down when they needed to. Joey was trailing close beside Rosita while Abraham entered the dark building, gone drawn, and checking the front for any inhabitants. Joey could feel her head growing heavy, and it seemed as though it was filling up with water, and she wouldn't be able to keep it up. Her hands lazily reached for her handgun, quickly checked the magazine, and queued outside with the rest of them. She hadn't spoken to Finn or Bill since the bus crash. Of course, they had attempted to speak to her countless times, but she just continued to ignore them. Joey knew it was immature, but it was unlikely she was ever going to admit she was in the wrong. It was evident she didn't like being told what to do.

"Let's go," Abraham announced, waving them all forward. It was quiet as the ground carried out walking around, and making sure the place was clear. Joey opened some doors and found nothing to kill or be worried about. There was a noticeable stench of the place that reeked of a corpse, which was somewhere in the perimeter. No one else seemed to care but Joey, and she swallowed thickly and prayed it wasn't walking.

They scavenged for supplies to keep the room protected for the night, and Joey looked around for some paper for the fire. The place was a library, stacked with shelves upon shelves of books, which didn't make it too difficult to find something. She mustered up all her strength to tear the pages from the books, and would hand them off to Tara, who was assisting Eugene in starting the fire, and keeping it alive. Joey found it as sore of a vice of anger to tear those pages out. It felt good, even when she'd get the occasional paper cut.

Her limbs were sore from walking for hours. Finn was rearranging the portable shelves for makeshift rooms. Joey watched him from a distance, and she could tell his arm was bothering him. In all honesty, she had forgotten about it. Joey hadn't even gotten a close enough look to see if it was infected or not, or to see how deep the cut was. She took one of the books that she tore the pages from. There was a string from the spine that she was able to pick out, and Rosita had found some needles that she was using to stitch up Abraham's wound. Joey grabbed her canteen (which had minimal water) and walked over to where Finn was set up, a little ways away from the fire, and was rubbing his hands together to try and get warm. Bill was peeking out the windows from the paper that was blocking it. Minimal moon light was piercing through the cracks, but was just enough for Joey to make out his face.

"You want me to stitch that up?" she pointed to his arm, and he looked down at it as if he forgot it was there. "I guess. Probably best if you look at it," He held out his arm, and she carefully unravelled the makeshift bandage that was stunting the blood. The skin was red, and hot to touch. It was obvious Finn was uncomfortable, and Joey could tell by the way he was writing his hands and wincing that he didn't realize how bad it was. "Shit . . ." he muttered.

"We'll probably have to amputate it," Joey whispered, jokingly, and Finn looked at her with widened eyes. "What? Are you fucking serious?"

"Jesus, relax, I'm just fucking with you,"

He shoved her in the shoulder with his good hand, shaking his head. Joey tied the strung around the needle, and Finn pulled his arm away. "Nah, no way,"

"Oh c'mon, don't be a pussy. I had to do it," Joey lifted up her pants, and there was a thin scar on her leg. Finn rolled his eyes. "We had alcohol. And gauze. We ain't got shit here," he gestured to the makeshift room, where everyone else was finding their way to the fire.