Those Who Remain

CHAPTER TWO

The next thing I know. We're running. But not for long. They're chasing us. I suddenly see people on the roof. Pointing guns at us. We're trapped, and there's nothing we can do about it.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I realize the gravity of our situation. We're trapped like rats, with no escape in sight.

As the people on the roof close in on us, we know that this is the end of the line. We're surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned.

Slowly, we start to walk towards the container. I can see the fear in Carls eyes, and I know that he's thinking the same thing I am. This is it. We're going to die in here.

One by one, we're led into the container. It's dark, cramped, and smells like death. I can hear the sound of breathing all around me, and I know that I'm not alone.

We're trapped in here, with no way out. The air is getting thick and hard to breathe, and I can feel the sweat pouring down my face. I'm starting to feel light-headed, and I know that it's only a matter of time before we pass out.

As we're struggling to breathe in the cramped container, we suddenly realize that we're not alone. There are other people in here with us, and I can hear their labored breathing in the darkness.

I start to inch my way towards the sound, trying to see who's there. And then I see them. It's everyone from the prison, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Bob and some other people I don't know.

Apparently their names is Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Tara and Iris.

I can hardly believe it. They're here too, trapped in this container with us. But how did they get here? And why?

"You're here." I can hear Rick say in disbelief.

I can tell he's wondering about the other people. Who they are, where they came from.

"They're our friends," Maggie says. "They saved us."

Daryl nods, and then turns to Abraham and the others. "Now they're friends of ours." he says.

Abraham looks at him skeptically. "For however long that'll be," he says.

"No." Rick steps forward, and we all wait patiently for what he's going to say. He takes his time, and I can see the tension in his face.

Finally, he says, "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

Abraham looks at him, confused. "Find out what?" he says.

He takes his time, now we're not even sure if he's going to say anything, but then he finally says, "They're fucking with the wrong people."

The words hang in the air, and I can feel the fear rising inside me. I'm not sure what's going to happen next, but I know that it's not going to be good.

FIVE YEARS AGO

It's probably been a few weeks since I left home. I don't know how long I can keep doing this.

As I walk, my mind is consumed with thoughts of home. I think about my family, my friends, and the life I left behind.

I wonder if they miss me, if they're worried about me, or if they've already forgotten about me. These thoughts only make me feel more alone and hopeless.

The weight of my backpack seems to grow heavier with each step, reminding me of the burden I'm carrying.

I've been walking for days, and my feet ache with exhaustion. I'm hungry, thirsty, and tired, but I don't know where to find food, water, or shelter. I'm lost, both physically and emotionally.