THE DIXON TWINS KNEW DISAPPOINTMENT. It greets them like an old friend. A welcomed intruder into their lives in which they have learned to live. So when their father stormed into their shared room on the day the world ended, telling them to pack the...
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The remainder of the drive was quiet—just the way Ace liked it.
He wasn't close to Jim, neither was Finch—he had no reason to mourn the man. Not after he tried to hide his wound. Still, for the sake for the remainder of what was left of their group, Ace made the choice to keep his mouth shut.
Rick's plan better work, he hoped, Those scientist better have biscuits baking in the oven by the time they arrived for all they're risking traveling to the heart of this disaster. He hoped they had air conditioning, and hot showers. If it was a government facility, surely they wouldn't have cut off those necessities from all the people working. Or maybe his hopes were too high and everyone there was as good as dead. If that was the case, then he hoped they had enough gas to make it to Fort Benning.
As they neared the city, dusk reared its ugly head over the hues of the sky, turning from a bright blue to deep oranges and purples making their way to a completely black sky, and with every minute the sun set, Ace's hand tightened over the steering wheel of the Dixon's pick up until his knuckled turned white. The walkers got more active when nighttime hit, and being so close to the city at this time was not a place Ace wanted to be.
He had to deal with those fuckers when they got trapped in the department store. He didn't not want to deal with them here too.
Ace climbed out the truck first, T-Dog right behind him on the other side. He gazed over the parking lot of the CDC, covered into the mangled bodies of once living people. The tanks sat around, unused, likely since whenever this massacre took place. Ace hoped all these ones were shot in the head before it went to catastrophe, it meant a lot less having to deal with. He searched the group as they made their way to the front of the CDC building, pulling his knife from the sheath attached to his belt loop as the stench of decay hit him like a truck and he forced the bile threatening to crawl up his throat back. Daryl was crowding Finch behind him, urging her ahead with the others with one hand while the other gripped his crossbow, prepared to shoot one of these freaks down if they tried rising.
"Stay quiet," Rick commanded the group in a stern, dominant voice. "Stay together."
Weaving his way through the group, careful not to step on one of the corpses, Ace appeared at his sisters side, eyeing the open space beside her that he now occupied. "Knife out," he whispered to her. "Don't know when one of these freaks will wake up."
Finch nodded her head and unsheathed her hunters knife, the hilt of it a bright pink. It's what Daryl had gotten for her for their thirteenth birthday—pink for her cause obviously she's a chick ( Merle's words, he swears ) and Ace's hilt was a pitch black—and they had never gotten new ones. It was especially important now that they had it, never a better time than when you're running around the woods trying not to get eaten by corpses and gutting a squirrel for dinner.
