Alive inside (Book Three)

Not The Same Part One

Ch. 3

'Not the same Part one'

[Settlement, afternoon]

The wind was whistling through the holes in the wall, snowdrifts piled high in the small hut made of old reclaimed wood, one wall however had only chain link fencing. 

Zombies stood in the snow and wind, waiting for the food to move, they did this for hours, they seemed to have figured out that humans get out here on a regular basis, especially this one.

Opening his eyes slowly, vision blurry with a splitting headache, A.J. looked up at the ceiling as he tried to remember how he got put in here, the lock-up.

Sitting upright, A.J.'s head immediately erupted with pain, holding his head with his hands, A.J. held his head as if to hold it together, the man ignored the sounds of walkers growling at his awakening.

Eventually, A.J. pulled his hands down and noticed his knuckles hurt from more than the cold weather, his knuckles were bloodied and his skin had been broken. Looking around, A.J. spotted a bottle of whiskey on the dirt floor near him.

Picking up the bottle, A.J. wiped the mouth of the bottle before downing the rest, wincing at the taste but relishing the warmth it gifted him.

Having finished off the bottle, A.J. chucked it at the chainlink wall riling the zombies up.

Mashing their decaying bodies against the fencing, most people usually feared for the wall’s integrity, horrified with the idea of it failing.

But A.J. just watched on, in boredom and disgust as the undead growled and foamed at the mouth, desperate to have the food barely out of reach.

A.J. remembered heading to the bar late last night. "Maybe I got in a fight, it would explain my hands and the bottle," A.J. thought to himself, wondering how long he had blacked out for.

Slowly staggering to his feet, A.J. immediately got a head rush, from standing too quickly.

It wasn't A.J.'s first time in this shed, he spent a night or two every month or two, in here, for this or that, usually a drunken brawl or something to that effect.

Bracing himself on the wooden paneling, A.J. looked around to see if he could find anyone outside.

Peering through a crack, A.J. did not see anyone appearing through the snowy atmosphere.

Falling to a sitting position, A.J. hugged himself in an attempt to stay warm.

After what seemed like hours, the sound of the door being unlocked, roused A.J., making him look up to see Genevieve swinging the wooden door open.

"You really need to stop drinking," Genevieve muttered, offering A.J. a hand up.

Brushing the teen's hand away, A.J. felt the bitter cold, frozen ground under his hands as he pushed himself off the ground.

"Fuck that," A.J. grumbled as he walked around Genevieve, the full extent of the wind was now hitting him.

Genevieve sighed in frustration as she fell in step with the disgruntled man. "How many times will they lock you up before they decide to throw you out," Genevieve asked, pulling her coat closer to her body.

"Why should you care?" A.J. spat, stumbling slightly as he started making his way to Summer's house where he often recuperated since his heater didn't work.

Huffing quietly, Genevieve didn't necessarily care but also did not want to weaken the community's scavenger team. "You bring some... Vigor to the scavenger team," Genevieve said eventually.