GONE WEST - daryl dixon

two. safe places

"GOD DAMN IT," Maisie muttered under her breath. She sighed loudly and pulled her shirt down. She couldn't reach the cut on her back which also meant she couldn't stitch it. She ended up tying a bandage around her waist. It was poorly wrapped and it was tight, but she didn't mind.

Maisie looked around her dirty tent. Dirt surrounded the floor from her and her dog going in and out, medical supplies were everywhere, and ammo. Everything. One thing about this apocalypse that Maisie hated was being dirty and messy. Everything else, she didn't mind.

She has spent 4 days in this location, actually 5 because Maisie had no motivation to move yesterday. But now that she's thinking about it, she should've. She would've never gotten into that fight or met that group today. It was a stressful day today, she was also starting to lose hope about finding her brother.

"Come here, Reaper," Maisie called her dog after pouring the dog food she stole from a nearby pet store into a bowl. The dog rushed over, shoving his face into the bowl and immediately taking bites.

Reaper was stocked on food, and Maisie was out. She didn't mind of course, but she was getting hungry. Maisie hadn't eaten in two days and she only had one bottle of water left and she was probably gonna give that to her dog.

She lived on a farm, took the important stuff she needed, and somehow forgot to grab food. She was rushing herself to leave the farmhouse to find her brother. She knew where the farm was, she just didn't plan on returning home until she found him.

Maisie stared at her dog for a second, deciding to clean up the tent so she could leave first thing in the morning. She needed to keep searching, she needed a sign. She needed something to know that her brother was alive.

"I knew it was this way, c'mon!" Maisie jumped at the loud shouting, she turned around and looked out the fly sheet and saw the same people she did this morning. Except it was only the sheriff and his buddy.

Before Maisie could react to anything, the tent fly sheet was ripped open and three people rushed in. They were all shouting and Maisie was confused until the sheriff's buddy shoved everything on her table to the floor while the sheriff put a little boy on the table. He was bleeding and his shirt had a hole in it.

Gunshot.

"What the hell is going on?" Maisie shouts, grabbing the pillowcase off of her pillow and folding it into a pad before applying pressure to the wound.

"He's been shot." The sheriff explains while he is frozen. He looked stuck while he stared at the little boy with a look of guilt and regret as he wiped his forehead causing blood to smear all over his face.

Maisie looked up at the third man and saw her uncle. She hadn't seen him since the apocalypse started, she didn't think she would see him ever again. But if Otis was alive, so was her second family. "What happened?" Maisie looked at her uncle.

"Shot a buck, went clean through," Otis explained in panic and Maisie shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Is there an exit wound?"

"No." Otis replies while he wipes the sweat off of his face in panic.

Maisie didn't have the right supplies for this, she only had certain stuff. The fragments of the bullet were broken and separated into different parts of the wound, Maisie didn't have anything to take them out.

"Take 'em to Hershel, I'll meet you guys in a second." Maisie ordered, signaling for the sheriff to grab his son, "There's a car behind the church, keys are under the seat."

And at that, Otis and the other two ran out of her tent. Maisie grabbed her backpack and started shoving everything she could inside until she couldn't even zip it up fully.