MEMORIES

002

                           ~

It was another early morning in Camp Chaos, a.k.a. our little slice of misery in the woods. The sun was barely up, and Rick was already making his rounds like some neighborhood cop on a coffee run. "Morning," he said to Morales, who grunted a reply. He passed Carol, who was ironing clothes like it was 1950 again. Ironing clothes. In the apocalypse. I'm convinced she's in denial about the whole world-ending thing.

She handed Rick his damp shirt, and I leaned against a tree, pretending not to eavesdrop. "You washed my clothes?" Rick asked, genuinely confused. Honestly, I'd have thought the same thing.

"Yep," Carol replied, smiling. "Best we could, though it's not my old Maytag."

She went back to her ironing while Rick wandered off, probably questioning all of his life choices. I sat on a log nearby, munching on an apple I found yesterday—and totally not the one I swiped from the RV stash.

By the time Rick reached Glenn, the poor guy was watching Morales, Dale, and Jim strip his beloved red sports car. "Vultures," Glenn muttered under his breath. Can't say he was wrong. Watching them gut that car was like watching someone steal candy from a baby—and then eat it in front of them.

"Thought I'd get to drive it a few more days," Glenn sighed dramatically.

"Maybe we'll find another one to steal someday," Rick said, patting his shoulder. I snorted. Right, because cars grow on trees now.

After a few more awkward "mornings" and a conversation with Lori that I barely paid attention to (except for the part where she told Rick he was insane for wanting to go back to Atlanta), things got... loud.

Carl's voice came screaming from the woods, and my heart jumped into my throat. Lori bolted like she was running the 100-meter dash at the Olympics, yelling, "Carl!"

"Over here!" I shouts, waving Lori towards Carl. "This way! Come on!" I reach Carl just as Lori grabs him, her breathing ragged.

"You okay, kid?" I asks, scanning Carl quickly.

He nods, wide-eyed. "I'm fine."

I give him a reassuring smile, ruffling his hair. "Good. Because if you got bitten, I'd have to put you down, and that'd really ruin my day."

Carl cracks a nervous grin, and Lori glares at me.

"Too soon?" I asks innocently before grabbing a fallen stick.

"Over here!" Morales shouted, leading the charge. We ran through the woods like a ragtag bunch of action heroes, only to find... a walker feasting on a deer.

"Oh, gross," I muttered, feeling my stomach churn. "It's got the worst table manners."

Shane raised his gun, and the rest of us armed up like a zombie-killing SWAT team. The walker turned toward us, growling, but Rick smacked it with a metal pole like he was playing Whac-A-Mole. Then it was Shane's turn, and then Glenn's, until Morales, Jim, and Dale finished it off. Teamwork makes the dream work, I guess.

"That's the first one we've had up here," Dale muttered, staring at the now-headless walker. "They're running out of food in the city."

I was about to make a joke about walkers being bad guests when we heard footsteps. Everyone froze. Weapons up. Great, another one.

But no, i think it's Daryl cause he's the only person I haven't met yet and he looks like Merle. He stormed out of the woods, muttering about the deer being his. Honestly, I wasn't sure if he was more upset about the deer or the fact that someone else got to it first.