The Mistake [Norman Reedus] Book One {{COMPLETED}}

Chapter 44

 With both me and Norman wounded, it was difficult to get to Larry's office.  We basically trampled each other to get to his shrieks and screams that died down to muffled yelps.

"What happened?" I whispered when me and Norman got to the door and stood on either side of it just in case someone was in there.

Norman cracked the door so only he could see inside, and he didn't see anything or anyone.  Not on the ground, hiding, or about to shoot.  But we both still had grabbed something on the shelves to use as a weapon.  Norman got a screwdriver and I managed a pick hammer.

"Sean!" Norman called out in a sharp whisper.  

No response.

"Sean!" I tried, a bit louder.

Silence.

"I'll check it out." Norman said, giving me one last glance that reminded me of the one he gave me at the airport when I left him standing there.  I had to block the thought from entering my mind since it was a distraction, and had my deadly hammer at the ready as he slipped through the door and raised his small weapon.

I couldn't see much when I slid my foot between the door and the door frame, but could see enough to keep an eye on Norman.

And as soon as I thought there was going to be nothing and that Sean was just punking us, the day got a billion times worse.

I watched helplessly as a brown bag was thrown around Norman's head and he was forcibly yanked out of sight.

Crap.

Having to think fast, I thought over the consequences of the few choices I had.  If I showed myself, I could help Norman and Sean, but get captured myself and also put myself at risk of harm.  If I didn't show myself, there could be the chance that the people don't know I exist and I could sneak up on them; yet how would I find them?

Gripping my pic hammer, I grabbed a black cloth from a nearby shelf, wrapped it around my head so only my eyes were showing, and jumped through the door.  Yet I was ready to fight, I still cringed when my side wound throbbed.

I went with plan A.

Staying silent, I scanned the room and caught a glimpse of a back door closing.  

I swiftly walked to the door, waited a couple seconds, and then snuck out and followed the shadows of the men that had Sean and Norman in ropes.  I saw the shoe of the last man in line, and snapped a mental picture.

Dark brown boots that went to mid-calf, and have brass buckles and zippers hanging down from the rim and running down the side.

I ran over that sentence twenty times in my head as I turned the corner and just about threw my hammer when I saw that the men had stopped and were all turned towards me as if they'd been waiting for me to show myself.

Every single one of them had a nice gun or pistol pointing straight at my head.  Of course they thought I could've been a Walker, and I didn't know how to show them I wasn't.  I didn't want them to hear me or see my face, just in case we escape and they come after us for whatever reason.

"Drop the hammer." The man standing at the front of the large group had an AutoMag pistol that really scared me.  It was basically to my forehead when I hesitated to drop it, and when he yelled his sentence again, I let it clatter to the ground and raised my hands wimpily.

"Frisk him." The man with the pistol kept it to my head as another man from the group walked out of line and over to me.

I wasn't too excited about this 'frisk' thing, but kept my mind elsewhere as the younger-looking man patted me down. 

I inspected the one with the AutoMag.  His hair was black and short, and it was naturally quiffed up to the side.  He looked like he was about thirty, but was in good shape.  His face was defined by his eyebrows that were dark and thick, and his jawbone was sharp and broad.  He had on black, finger-less gloves, and gripped his gun tightly.  I could've sworn he was about to pull the trigger every time I even blinked.

I was about to examine his clothes when the frisky man stood up and shook his head.

"Bag him." The man in front of me ordered.

"Charlie?" Norman's voice called out from under the white pillowcase over his head.

"You know him?" The man asked, gesturing to me rudely with his gun.

"Well, I can't really see, but I'm hoping it's Charlie." He said.

"Cuff him!" The man commanded.  

Before the white bag was thrown over me, a pair of tight hand-cuffs were strapped around my wrists behind me.  Norman's bag was lifted for a split second and I caught a glimpse of a wink.

Right.  Play along.  I'm Charlie.  I reassured myself as the bag shielded my vision.

I was basically a cat on a leash, just like Norman and Sean were, and I came to realize that we were officially captured.  Under control.  Yet still starving.

The cuffs burned, and I tried to slip out of them.  Every time I did, though, the man escorting me would give my arms a harsh shake.  Due to this and how weak I was, I finally gave up and just tripped over myself for a while.  

I could only see my own feet, and it was the only thing amusing me as we walked for a while.  My stomach growling gave me something to listen to, other than the gunfire that made me jump every few seconds.

"So, Charlie," One man (Most likely the same one that almost killed me) trailed my fake name on for a second.  "who's this?"

I was guessing he just wanted information on the three people he and his snotty group just so easily captured.

I didn't answer him, and kept walking.

I was getting a bit shaky when he didn't respond, and the sound of someone else's chains starting clicking together.  

"Stop walking!" The man said.

We were brought to a halt and I could hear the footsteps of the group's leader and either Sean or Norman approaching me.

My bag was ripped off and, all of a sudden, was staring involuntarily into the eyes of the main man.

"Answer me.  Who. Is. This?" His words were forced out through clenched teeth, slow and punctuated.  His hand gripped my arm, and the silence was so quit that it was loud.

The shirt or cloth that I had wrapped around my head was blocking a lot of my breath from getting out, which made my face hot.

"I can't see him." I spatted out.

"Oh," The man laughed angrily, "don't you get smart with me, young man."  He said angrily, ripping the bag off my head but leaving my black mask on.

I wanted to laugh as loud as I could.  Clearly I was a girl.  My name was Charlie.  Oh, wait, that's a guy's name.  You son of a gun, Norman.

"I'm not.  And, you got that wrong." I said, preparing myself for a fight.

The man cocked his head with fury, and was doing everything to not stab me to death.  "Is that right?  What did I get wrong, Charlie?"

I widened my eyes.  "I'm a girl."

And with that, the man standing in front of me was kicked to the ground with one sweep of my leg.  And I inspected his feet.

Yep.  Brown boots and brass buckles.  

"And where'd you get your boots?  My closet?" I asked with a grin as the man looked up at me, outraged.

(A/N: Hey guys, thank you SO much for 11,000!!!!  Comment what you think, and I'll try to update a sneak peek!  I think it's a bit mean to leave you hanging at a point like this.... :) Bye lovelys!) -Writingslayer