"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."
-Ernest Hemingway
Not much happens after my conversation with Tyler. He redresses the bandage on my shoulder, which his group must have patched up the day they brought me in, tends to the stitches that had been sewn above my right eyebrow, and feeds me dinner. It is scraps from his groups meal, but it is better than rotten peanut butter.
The next day is when things get interesting.
When I wake up from a long nights sleep, I am surrounded by a cluster of unrecognizable faces. They are all staring at me with cold eyes, the same stare Tyler has mastered so well. Looks like I know where he got it from.
"Your names Ryan, huh?" A man with a husky voice speaks.
He stands about six foot three, wearing a dirty white shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He has two assault rifles strapped to his back, their straps forming a black X across the middle of his chest. A self-manufactured belt made of rope clings to his waist, and my machete hangs from his belt loop. Why does he have that?
I glance back up to his face, my eyes tracing the long scar across his jawline. His jet black hair is slicked back with months of sweat and grime. Yet he has eyes like emeralds, which contrast to his dull features. His stance reminds me of my fathers, straight and confident. This man must have served, too. The man cocks his head, his brows furrowing.
"Yes," I mutter. "It is."
He takes in a raspy breath before speaking, "My people say you swung a machete on them. Is that true?"
My eyes flitter down to my machete, which is basically calling my name at this point. I can just barely see my initials carved into the recently sharpened blade as the sun glints of the metal just right.
"Yep."
"And would you care to tell us why?"
I sit up gently in the bed, using the sides of the mattress as leverage. I rest my back against the headboard, sighing deeply to let this man know I am not intimidated.
"I was protecting that place," I begin, staring him straight in the eyes. "That was gonna be the place I would stay all winter. I wasn't going to lose it."
A young Asian woman in the back of the room steps towards me. She is wearing a skin tight maroon tank top that's tucked in to her khaki cargo pants. She is wearing two different boots, one brown and one black. Studs decorate her ear, adding an odd sharpness to her round face. Her gloves have the fingers cut from them, and one of her hands rests on the double sided blade in her belt loop. Her dark eyes carry and unimaginable sadness, a sadness that she must carry from before this even happened. She must not have had a good before.
"We would have reasoned with you if you'd let us," she quips, her voice sweet and tender.
Just then, I notice a small figure clinging on to the woman, who I now recognize as Christie. Christie has a child. The girl looks at me with deep green eyes that resemble her mothers, with the look in them, but they are softer. More innocent. Christie notices my staring and gently pushes the young girl back behind her.
"I didn't know," I reply smoothly.
The group before me sits in silence, choosing their next play. Tyler keeps his eyes on the leader and away from me, which I find odd and strangely disappointing.
Another new voice speaks up.
"Give us a reason we should take you in."
The voice belongs to a middle aged woman. She is petite, her golden hair cut to the tips of her ears. Her small face and delicate features remind me of a fairy. Her olive green eyes are timid and scared. A nose ring adds flare to her simple face. She is wearing an oversized grey shirt with "Stanford" written across the chest in red lettering. She is also wearing dark green leggings with holes up and down the fabric. One of her boots hangs limply from her foot, as it has lost its laces. This woman has no weapons on her, which automatically gets an assumption brewing in my head.
"I know how to fight. I'm very resourceful, I've survived alone for a very long time. I can provide protection," I turn my gaze to the leader, who stares back at me daringly.
It seems as thought the whole group is challenging me to do something, to stand up and pull a gun to one of their heads. But I don't, I can't. I need this place if I want to survive the winter, and these people did save my life. I owe them everything. Even if I wanted to, I don't have a gun. They stripped me of everything, even changing my clothes. I hope it was one of the women and not Tyler.
The leader removes my machete from his belt loop and bounces it in his large hands. My machete looks weird in another persons possession. I don't like it.
"Can you help us scavenge for resources?" He asks, pointing the machete at me for emphasis.
"Yea," I nod. "Of course."
Christie steps up to speak again. "How do we know you won't kill us in our sleep?"
I stare at her, flabbergasted that she took me for that kind of person. I'm not anymore. I've changed.
"I owe you guys my life. You should've left me for the I's, but you didn't. You brought home another mouth to feed. I need to earn my keep."
The leader scoffs under his breath. To my disappointment, he slides my machete back into his belt loop. I don't show how I feel, for fear they'll think this is all an act. And they'll throw me back out on the streets. Alone.
"As soon as you're well you're start hunting with us," the leader states, opening the door to my room and showing his people out.
It's a shame I didn't get to study all of their faces. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they carry themselves. I'm prideful of my ability to read people, but it's kind of a scary skill set. Because if someone's truly evil, you can see it. It's not something anybody should see.
Just before the leader walks out the door, I decide to speak up.
"I never got your name."
He turns to me, a dangerous smirk on his face. He keeps half his body outside the room, as if this conversation is uncomfortable.
"Carter."
"Thank you for doing this, Carter," I stutter, slowly laying back down. "I wouldn't have made it much longer."
Carter smiles out of the corner of his mouth, dipping his head as a chuckle hits him.
"Welcome."
Hola mi amigos! I'm sorry for this long filler chapter, but I wanted to introduce you to some characters. I'm sorry I haven't given you more, but I'm trying to spread it out so you're not getting globs of information all at once. I know how hard it can be to keep up with a story like that. More descriptions are names are coming plus a description of Ryan. (I'm trying to slip that in casually *wink wink*).
Sorry that was weird^^
REGARDLESS what do you think of Carter? Do you think he's a jerk? Or does he seem like a nice guy? He's obviously the leader, but writing his character is hard since I already have The Walking Dead characters sitting in the back of my head. I'm sorry if I start writing the characters like the characters from the show!!! Don't judge me XD
Thank you SOOO much for reading and if you're into spin-offs of movies and tv shows, check out my other book, The Outsiders. It's not done yet, but it's based off of my favorite movie and it's a way to pass the time.
Much love
xoxoxo-Taylor
