Craig of the Dead

10. I Spy

"Why do I have to stay behind?" Scott whined. "I can be just as useful as Butters, and you're bringing him along!"

"Because you have diabetes and Butters doesn't. Also, you need to finish that zombie show. What was it called?" Clyde asked, stuffing a water bottle and another packet of Ramens in his backpack.

"The Walking Dead..." Scott mumbled. "But it's too scary! It keeps me up at night. I don't want to watch anymore."

"Yeah, well you wanna know what's even scarier? That." Craig said, gesturing to the front door. "If watching zombies on television is giving you nightmares, then you shouldn't go strolling through a real life infested town. We already have one Clydebaby, we don't need another."

"Yeah!" Clyde agreed, oblivious to the nickname he had received.

"Do we have everything we need?" Craig asked, scanning the group. We had all packed up tiny bags of food, drink, and weapons. Clyde had gotten way too into the whole apocalypse theme, putting streaks of black face paint underneath his eyes and tying a strip of cloth in tight in his hair, trying to look rugged but only looking stupid.

"I think so. Butters, did you bring extra bullets for your gun? Just in case?" Butters, although incompetent at first, had gotten fairly skilled at handling a pistol. He had a big backpack, almost bigger than himself, which was stuffed with a blanket and various other items.

"I dunno, I guess I have enough. Hopefully I won't need more than this."

"Yeah, and if you run out we can just run to Jimbo's Guns to restock." Craig said. He was just looking normal, with his Red Racer shirt and jacket over it, sporting his red cap. Craig didn't even look nervous at the prospect of the long trek. He set his baseball bat on his shoulder, slinging his supply bag over the other one. I myself was equipped with a chainsaw. Yeah, I know, it is pretty awesome, but it was also a pain to carry around. I mentally prepared myself for the soreness I was going to feel in my arms after this was over.

"Oh, and Scott. Look after Kevin, will ya? He's gonna kill himself out of stupidity or something, so just make sure he's good." We had thought that Kevin wasn't good at anything. However, after we got to know him better, it turns out he is good at one thing: building. So, Craig put him in charge of making modifications to the upstairs room, the one that would become a holding room for anyone who might be infected. Kevin seemed pretty content with his work, which was fine by us.

"I get all the lame jobs..." Scott mumbled, but giving Craig a nod nevertheless.

"Let's hit the road." Craig ordered, undoing the numerous locks we had put on the door. We all began to file outside, squinting at the bright sunlight.

"This is stupid. I don't wanna do this." Shelly grumbled.

Craig stopped short and turned on his heel, glaring at her. "Then why are you here? Stay behind with Scott, does it look like I care what you do?" He said seriously, clipping off the end of each word as he did.

"Well, no..." Shelly had an almost hurt look on her face. I think Craig had been putting up with her complaining for too long, and he was done with it.

"Look, I know you miss Stan. But you want to know who else misses him? Kyle." He jabbed a finger in my direction. "You wanna know who else is missing someone they care about? Token. And Clyde. And Butters. And Karen. And me. So if you are just going to complain the whole way, then I suggest you get your ass back inside."

"Shut up, you turd! I'm coming with you! I am the oldest after all, so you can't boss me around!"

"Perks of being the leader." He said, giving her his middle finger and turning back around. "Suck it." Shelly closed her mouth and didn't say anything after that.

We continued along the road, Token checking his map every few minutes to keep us on track.

"If we continue at this pace it should take us about two days, maybe three." He commented, almost tripping on a stick with his face buried in the paper. Every once in a while a zombie would meander in our path, but Craig normally took them out with one swing. Zombies never stayed dead, but they would stay down for a little bit, giving us time to get far ahead of their stinking corpses.

Every time I heard a moaning sound, my heart would jump. What if I turned around and the walker was wearing blue pajamas? Or a red poof-ball hat? Or an orange parka? I knew that if Craig saw that, wouldn't even skip a beat. He would swing his bat and bash their heads in without a second thought. The only thing he would stop for would be a zombie guinea pig or a walker with his shirt buttoned incorrectly.

"What's wrong, Kyle? You look pretty, well, I dunno. But you sure look like you could use a friend." Butters jogged up to match my stride, holding tight to the straps of his enormous backpack.

"A lot of things are wrong. This whole this is wrong." I said, looking over at Butters. "How can you stand to be so upbeat all the time?"

"Uh, well, that's not true. I'm not upbeat all the time."

"Please, you're literally a ray of sunshine personified."

"I'm just as sad, and scared, and angry as the rest of you guys. I just let out all of my emotions in private, when no one is looking. That way, I don't bring the group down by telling them how sad I feel."

"Well, you don't have to do that. It's okay to be sad sometimes. What kinda things get you upset?"

"Why don't we play I-Spy instead?" He offered, his eyes darting to the ground for a second before locking with mine again. Avoiding the problem. "I spy with my little eye something.... blue."

"Is it the sky?" I asked sarcastically.

"Yeah!" He laughed. "You got it! Now it's your turn."

We continued to play I-Spy as we walked along, our shoes crunching in the snow. There wasn't as much snow anymore for some reason or another. Since that first day the snow had started melting, leaving only frost in some areas. Still, the cold air stung my cheeks and made me wish I had gone back to get my hat. I had left it in my room and, well, I guess I never saw it as a priority to go get it. It felt weird too. Always hiding my stupid jewfro underneath my hat so that people wouldn't make fun of it. Now, funnily enough, nobody really cared. It was nice.

"I spy with my little eye something rainbow."

"Rainbow?" Butters searched around, squinting up at the sky and through car and house windows. "Gee, that's a toughie. I don't know Kyle. Is it, like, really small? Is it really far away or something?"

"Is it me?" Craig asked, not even looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah! Craig got it, Butters. You lose." I said snickering.

"No, Craig is wearing blue and red." Butters insisted. "How is he rainbow?"

"He's rainbow on the inside, and that's what counts."

"How is he rainbow on the inside?"

"Shut up, Butters, it's my turn. Now, I spy with my little eye something...green." Craig said.

"Those weeds?"

"Nope."

"That building?"

"No." Craig sighed. "You were too slow, we've passed it. It was that green bottle."

"Where?" I asked. I didn't catch it either.

"Back in that alley. Look." He said, turning around to point out the proof, the sunlight reflecting off its surface.

"Oh I see--" A hand emerged from the alley, grabbing hold of the bottle and taking it with them.

"Dude! Someone's in there!" Token said. We all sprinted to the alley to see who it was. The hand looked to be human.

"No way." Craig smirked as we all stood behind him, facing the stranger. "I spy with my little eye a Stan Marsh."