The Infected || C.G₁

4- Chupacabra

The next morning, I made my way downstairs, the aroma of breakfast filling the air. As I entered the kitchen, I saw Grandpa Hershel sitting at the table, his gray hair slightly tousled, while Mama and Beth were chatting over their meal. Mama was reading through a stack of papers, and Grandpa Hershel was sipping his coffee, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

"Mornin'," I called out cheerfully, a wide smile spreading across my face.

"Morning, Daisy," they replied in unison, their voices warm and welcoming.

Mama and Grandpa were engrossed in a discussion about the farm's schedule and plans for the upcoming weeks, their voices blending with the occasional clatter of dishes. Beth and I were huddled over a corner of the table, sorting through the day's chores. We had a lot to get done, but we approached it with our usual determination.

After a while, Mama stood up, tucking her papers into a folder. "I'm heading out to help Rick and the others. You two stay out of trouble, alright?" She gave us a reassuring smile before heading for the door.

Beth and I nodded in agreement, and once Mama had left, we finished our breakfast and gathered our tools for the first task of the day.

We stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the sun casting a gentle glow over the fields as we made our way to the chicken coop. The sounds of clucking and the occasional crowing of roosters greeted us, a comforting reminder of our daily routine.

As we approached the coop, Beth turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "So, what do you think of Rick and his group?" she asked, her curiosity evident.

I glanced at her, considering the question. "They seem nice," I replied with a shrug. "Grandpa said they cant stay, i hope he reconsiders."

Beth nodded, her gaze thoughtful as she opened the coop door. The familiar sight of the chickens bustling about greeted us, and we began collecting the eggs, our conversation continuing amidst the gentle clucking of the birds.

During the day, Beth and I mostly just hung out, seeing as Jimmy had gone off god knows where. We wandered around the farm, the fields stretching out in every direction, dotted with the occasional haystack and grazing livestock. Despite the serene surroundings, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that seemed to hang in the air.

As we strolled past the barn and through the overgrown paths, I noticed Beth's face was a bit tense. Her brows were furrowed, and she kept glancing around, as if expecting to find something—or someone—missing.

"He'll be fine," I said, trying to sound as reassuring as I could.

Beth's gaze shifted to me, her eyes searching for certainty. "What if he's not?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"He's fine. He'll be fine," I said reassuringly. I knew that my attempts to comfort my family often fell short, given my age and inexperience. But with Beth, who was only a few years older than me, I hoped my words might provide some solace. It usually helped a bit, at least more so than it did with the adults.

The farm was unusually quiet today, a stark contrast to the usual bustle. Most of Rick's group was out searching for Sophia, who had been missing for what felt like forever—this was her fourth or fifth day gone. The weight of that worry was palpable, hanging heavy over us all. I hoped they would find her soon, safe and sound.

Grandpa Hershel's voice drifted over to us as we approached the barn. He was discussing something with Mama, his expression grave. "Nervous Nelly's missing," he said, his tone laden with annoyance. "She's the one horse that spooks at the slightest noise. I can't imagine where she could've gone."