To The Grave

Chapter 14. Randall. Day 74.

"Why did we decide to not go to Grandma's house?" Winona asked, hanging up the wet laundry on a line.

"Mom thinks they're probably safe somewhere else, so we don't want to waste the time to go there." Molly said, rinsing the clothes the best she could in the creek. "Are you sure you don't need me to wash anything for you or Chloe?" She asked the older woman.

Gloria turned, holding her toddler in her arms. "Oh, no we're fine. Thank you." She turned back to face Rachel.

Marty moved back into our small camp, holding his gun in his hand. A cigarette hung from his mouth. He set his gun down in a chair, moving to sit beside me to help set up the tents.

"Isn't your son a little young to be smoking?" Gloria whispered.

I looked back to Marty's mom. She nodded, glaring at the kid beside me. "Yeah, he is."

"I'm not judging, my sister started smoking when she was around his age." Gloria pushed the words out trying to smooth the conversation.

Rachel shook her head, grabbing a few cans carrying them over towards the fire pit Ferris was building. I looked at the final finished tent, taking a step back to see it over.

"Marty why don't you make yourself useful." His mother's voice called out to him. He turned around, taking another drag from his cigarette.

He turned back, walking into the trees. I walked after him, following closely behind him. He stopped in his tracks seeing a large cabin. He turned back to me, smiling slightly.

He turned back rushing up the steps, pushing the door open. "Marty, you can't just do that." I shouted after him.

A branch broke behind me. I grabbed my gun from my pocket, turning around quickly. Winona stood inches in front of the gun, staring down the barrel. "Jesus Christ! Winona, why are you here?"

"Why does my mom hate Marty?" The words flew out of her mouth.

I pushed my hand against my face, pushing my glasses up. "I don't know, he won't tell me."

She rushed for the house, running through the grass. I grabbed her small body, pulling her back. "You don't even have a gun, be careful."

She pulled away from my arms, rushing to the house. Marty walked onto the porch holding a large gun over his head. I jogged over, looking around the cleared out area for any rotters.

"You're going to learn how to shoot a gun." He placed the heavy weapon into his sister's arm. She moved shifting it in her arms.

I pulled the gun away from her, "What are you doing." I handed her my smaller gun, watching Marty go inside. He returned with some bottles. He jogged across the large yard, placing them on a wooden fence.

"Wait for Marty to get back here. Point it and make this line up between those, focusing on what you want to shoot." I pointed to the gun showing her.

"Don't shoot it until you know you're ready." I held the larger gun, pointing it and shooting a bottle.

Marty moved to my side. Winona moved the gun up, pointing it, holding her arms up awkwardly. Marty moved to her, moving her body so she was standing correctly.

She fired the gun, a loud shot ringing through the area. She moved it down, looking at the bottles still standing on the fence. "Why didn't I hit it?"

"Because it was your first time? Did you really think you'd get it right away?" Marty laughed.

A body came trotting through the woods, it's rotting flesh stumbling into our peace. I moved my gun up, hearing a shot fire from behind me. I watched the corpse stumble back, falling to the ground. "I would've hit the bottle if you hadn't made me stand stupid." Winona snapped, moving the gun down.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered, looking back at the dead.

Another body ran into the field. Winona moved the gun up firing it quickly. The body fell back. "Ferris!" Marty screamed. Winona dropped the gun, looking at her hands.

I ran over to her brothers. Ferris was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, His arm was bleeding badly. "Why did she have a gun?"

I looked at Marty seeing his hand holding around his brother's arm. "We have to get you to Mom."

"That's not an answer." He pushed his brother away, standing up. He moved his hand to cover to wound. He stumbled back into the woods. Marty stood up, grabbing his gun off the dying grass. He moved back over towards Winona.

He picked up the gun in front of Winona. She was still looking at her hands, shaking. "It's my fault. I mean, it's also your fault, but like it's mostly mine." Marty stopped behind her to say.

"I don't hate you." She whispered.

He turned to look at her. She remained in her spot, not turning to face him. "I don't know why mom hates you, but I don't."