Broken Memories • The Walking Dead Fanfiction

24

WASSUP FRIENDS

+

+

+

SKYE

"So now what?" I voiced aloud to the group the following morning. Pale sunlight slipped through the murky glass of the windows and onto my shoes, creating patterns along the dark leather. My forehead was burning beyond belief, and I knew a feverish look was in my eyes, face, and posture. A virus of some kind seemed to be playing on every fighting aspect I had within my figure and it was steadily beating my body down- weakening me from skin to nerve, nerve to bone.

"Well this town isn't in bad shape." Maggie spoke up. The woman of whom I had grown so comfortable with lounged in a torn arm chair, her own arms resting on the sides as she scanned every attendee to our meeting. "This store wasn't even touched. We could make a good base here. We could spend one last day doing a sweep for supplies."

"We'll sweep as we go. We've done it since Houston. We aren't going to stop now." Rosita denied shortly. Her eyes flashed quickly with something I thought was an agreement to Maggie's proposition, but it was quickly overturned when she glanced at Abraham.

I sighed and turned towards everyone, gaining the center focus of the room. "Why don't we stay till we're one hundred precent? I mean, Abraham is hurt." I motioned towards his freshly bandaged hand, the red soaking through his white wrappings. "This place has plenty of supplies. Everyone is exhausted. And It wouldn't kill us to have a day of rest, Abraham."

What I didn't use as a convincing factor to the idea of us staying was the reality that I was beginning to feel terribly more ill with every passing moment. I refused to release that knowledge in fear of Tara beginning to worry about me even more or the forethought that everyone would think of me as a weak girl who could not handle a little sickness. I would not let them think that, no matter how excruciating the pounding sickness was to my body.

Abe's eyes flashed over me, large hands on his belt, fingering the rotting holster. "Yeah, but it would kill the people out there who we're in a race to save." Abraham said lowly. "After all, we've been through worse." He added finishing off my suggestion sternly.

The room of survivors fell silent for a few thoughtful moments, the only sounds to be heard being the faint chirping of birds and deathly, distant moans ( the two sounds highly contradicting each other). A wave of nausea washed over me, something that had not occurred whilst I had been sick, and I grabbed onto the window sill, trying to hold my head straight as the room swam and my body broke into a cold sweat. Tara glanced over curiously, noticing the out-of-place movement, but I played it off quickly, feeling her eyes linger for only a few moments before turning to the front.

"Well, we tapped out the toilet. And the Broad River is five miles West." Tara informed the red-headed leader. "At the very least we should stock up there before we find anything else."

Abraham nodded momentarily before holding out his dirty arm towards the even dirtier window. "Well, we've actually got a vehicle." I narrowed my eyes in confusion before craning my head to gaze out of the window to where he had motioned. "And it just so happens to have 500 gallons of water on it."

+++

"What makes you think this hunk-of-junk will run?" I questioned, sliding a scratched up hand over the red, chipped paint that coated the vehicle. "I mean, it's not like it's the apocalypse or anything." I added, glancing up into the cabin with sarcasm shining sharply in my blue eyes. "I don't think anyone has been taking care of it."