Fight for your life

Chapter Five

"His name is Puck!" Scout informs us, petting him. "From a Midsummers Night Dream."
"Cute," I say, grinning.
"There were some boxes in the basement," Donnie says, sitting up a bit. "I think there was some dog stuff... a collar and leash maybe?"
"Should we put him on a collar or leash? I mean," Barrett sits up. "What if he needs to get away, and he gets caught on something?"
"But what if he runs into danger," Scout asks, pouting.
"Either way, I'll go down there. I wanna look around." I say, standing up.
"Me too!" Scout says happily, standing. The dog jumps into the couch with Donnie, who's more than happy to pet him.

"So, the zombies were like, really weird, right?" She asks, rooting through boxes.
"Yeah," I answer, sitting down to dig through another box. The boxes are mostly full of old clothes, photo albums, and random junk nobody wants, or needs. "God is there anything useful here?" I ask, pushing the box away from me.
"I hope so," Barrett says from the doorway, coming down the stairs. He's followed by Donnie and Puck, who all go straight to work digging through the unopened boxes. Even Puck jumps on one, falling into it. Donnie laughs, pulling him out so she can search the box.
"I fed him, by the way," Donnie says, pulling out old men's clothes that wouldn't fit anyone. I pull out a brown sweater and put it to the side for Murdoc, who is per usual avoiding everyone.
"Oh shit!" Barrett says, sitting up excitedly.
"What's up?" Scout asks, bored.
"I found a tool box," he says, pushing a box out of his way and pulling the metal box towards him.
"Really?" Donnie asks, crawling forward. "What've we got?"
"Ummm," they open it, digging through it as I dig through another box of clothes. "This house was like, a jackpot right?"
"I think so," Scout says, nodding. "I mean, decent food, no tragic family death scene, tools, a dog."
"Aaaand a collar and leash!" I say as I open the next box. "A food bowl and a travel water bowl- thing." I say, looking down at the water bottle attached to an elongated bowl. 
"Yes!" They all cried. I toss Donnie the collar while I search for a bag to carry the dog stuff.
"Who's gonna carry the dog stuff?" I ask, immediately regretting it.
"You let him in," Barrett says, grinning.
"He has a point," Scout answers, giggling.
"Fair enough," I grown, holding the box of dog stuff in my arms. "We've got a bed, toys, and a little dog shirt." I pause, looking down at the box. I can probably attach the bed to my backpack, and find a smaller bag somewhere for the toys and shirt, which I'm sure Scout will make me keep it.
"If you guys see a little bag to carry the toys and bowls and shit, grab it, okay? I'll attach it to my bag later." I say, putting the sweater on top of the box before standing up. Dizziness takes over, and I have to reach out and put a hand on the wall to steady myself.
"Where are you going?" Scout asks without looking up.
"I dunno," I ask, staring at my feet until my head stops spinning. "Just gonna walk around." I mumble, carrying the box up the stairs with me. I carry it into the living room, grabbing the sweater. Murdoc is, surprise surprise, still at the door, sitting silently. I pause, considering whether or not I want to start a conversation. Three big interactions with him in one day was about three more than usual, and all three were exhausting, not to mention we still have about four hours of daylight. After a moment, I decided to head for the kitchen, putting the baggy brown sweater on. It dwarfs me, enough so that it'll only stay on one shoulder, but it's warm, and a lot more comfortable than I expected. I grab a water from the counter and take a drink, carrying it with me to the back room.  The sliding glass door is splashed with blood, and the body is still there, rotting away. After a moment of staring outside, I notice a small grill and bag of coal in the backyard of the house next door. I go back to the kitchen, searching the cabinets for coffee. After a few minutes of searching I find a half empty container of Folgers. I toss it onto the counter before grabbing aluminum foil and five coffee mugs.
Ten minutes later I have a bag of coal, a grill, a dismembered fire alarm, and a large pile of ashes on the floor of the back room.
Now for the flower pot.
I walk down the hall, to the front door that Murdoc blocks. I crouch down in front of him, poking his cheek. He looks up, raising an eyebrow. "Come on man," I say, mimicking his raised eyebrow. "You gotta get up. Out of my way."
"Out of your way?"
"Yeah," I answer, grabbing his arm to pull him up.
"Where do you think you're going?" He pauses, and he seems to actually focus on me. "Your sweater... it's nice."
"Thanks, and I'm not going anywhere, Mudz. I'll be on the porch for like, 30 seconds," I say, pulling his arm again. "The zombies are gone, right?"
"Yeah," he says, sighing and getting up. "Which one do you want?"
"The flower pots? Just the medium sized one is fine, I just want the pot. Dump the plant." He nods, opening the door so he can grab and dump the pot.
"Can I ask what this is for?" He asks, handing it to me.
"I'm gonna make coffee," I answer. He follows me to the kitchen, curious. I line the pot with foil and drop a few things of coal into it, then set off to searching again. It takes me a few minutes to find a drying rack to put over the garden pot, but finding a cooking pot is easy. I use my zippo to light the coal, set up the drying rack, and then dump my water bottle into the pot, leaving it to boil. I jog up the stairs to my temporary bedroom, where I take off my belts and cargo pants. I pull on my pajama shorts and head back downstairs, to my now-boiling water. I go to the basement door, where I yell "Does anybody want coffee?"
"Hell yeah!" They all yell, rushing up the stairs.
"You're making coffee? How?"
About twenty minutes later everyone sits in the living room, quietly sipping coffee. Barrett, Scout, and Donnie all argue about some trivial matter while a saver my drink. "Thank you," Murdoc says quietly, drinking his coffee black.
"Of course," I say, nodding. God he's talkative today. I think, looking back out the window.