The Walking Dead: Three Knives (a fanfiction, based off of Season 3 & 4)

Chapter 15- Realization

So. Um. Yeah. Sorry I haven't updated in forever again. Aghhh. Blasted school, ya know? What do you guys think of this chapter? I hope you enjoy it, because I enjoyed writing it!

                The truck rattles vigorously and jerks from side to side leading me to believe that this thing hasn’t had its shocks changed in forever. I haven’t been inside a moving vehicle in so long that I feel I may be sick. Before the world ended my father would take me along with him on business trips, and sometimes that required us to take a boat. I am more prone to sea sickness than anybody I’ve ever known, no matter what kind of boat I’m on. If the waves are above a foot high you can count on my face turning green. Now it feels the same with a vehicle, and after every little bump I want to throw up, but I manage to hold it down.

                On my right flank sits Martinez, armed with a Mossberg rifle that sends shivers down my arm as its cold barrel rests against me, and to my left sits Cartjulio with a long machete that you’d see out of a Rambo movie. I think that’s what I’ll call Cartjulio. Rambo. He has the similar black curls and sharp edgy facial features

Though I know we are supposedly on some sort of a “supply run,” I still have no clue where we are going, or if they have even formulated on some sort of plan to attain what we need. I look at Rambo, but he wears the same expression as the rest of them: empty seriousness. At least that’s the only way I can describe it. You can tell that this is a routine for them, just like elementary kids riding the bus… Well, ya know. If there was still buses and kids to go to elementary school.

“Where is our destination?” I ask, breaking the unsettling silence. Considering I’m used to being alone, you’d think I’d be used to silence, but I honestly couldn’t stand it. Sometimes I have to talk to myself aloud or else I feel uneasy. Not that I’m nuts or anything, I just prefer noise sometimes.

Rambo and Martinez glance at each other out of the corner of their eyes and pull their lips up into a knowing smirk. I feel my cheeks turn red. I never liked being the one left out of information.

Martinez turns his head to give me a reassuring look; I glance up at him. “You’ll be fine. We’re just gathering some things.”

                I furrow my eyebrows, not feelings reassured at all. There’s a deep gut instinct gnawing at me, and I know that there is more to this trip than what they are telling me.

                The truck rattles vigorously as we come to a halting stop on the side of the road. My eyes widen to observe our surroundings, but it’s still the same as it’s been for the past five minutes: forests on either side of the two lane road. I try looking further past the canopy of the trees, and even scan along the horizon, but cannot find anywhere we’d get “supplies” from.

                The men open the doors and hop out of the truck. I follow them as they gather weapons from the back, and I try my hardest not to sound uneasy when I say, “What are we doing?” But I know that there was a slight tremor to my voice. I instantly regret speaking.

                For the first time on the whole ride, the Governor speaks, “Traveling.”

                “But… wouldn’t it be easier to ride into our destination?” I ask.

                The Governor doesn’t look at me as he says, “Well. Then it wouldn’t be as much of a surprise attack, would it?”

                Every organ and bone in my body freezes. Surprise attack? We’re… we’re robbing a camp. For some reason this realization dawns on me so perpetually slow, even though I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m actually appalled that I didn’t figure this out from the beginning. This is what they were hiding from me.