Don't You? ➡ CARL GRIMES

III

"These muertos are really getting on my damn nerves," I thought to myself, clutching the machete close to my chest as I turned past the large oak tree. The scrawny dead man reached for my form, snapping it's jaw. I grunted and drove my machete up through the bottom of his skull, the tip of the blade peeking out from it's head.

Letting out a huff, I glanced around for anymore of the staggering dead. Luck was back on my side once I saw no more in the area, nor did I hear any growls. 

Turning on my heel again, I starting in the direction of the town with a jog.

It's been an hour since I had stormed away from the prison. All I could think in my head on my trudge back to where I met Glenn was how right I was. I knew they would not trust me once I got there, and there wasn't a doubt in my mind that Glenn thought so too; yet he tried to make an effort to make me stay. Did it work? Of course not.

Seeing the paved road ahead caused my jog to turn into a run. I stopped in the middle of the road, looking to my left and seeing the familiar houses a ways down. I smiled to myself, thankful I had made it back here before it started to get darker. 

"Help me!"

My head snapped towards the back of the house I had stayed at with Glenn the previous night. From the distance, I couldn't tell whether or not the person was a man or a woman; but nonetheless, I unsheathed my machete and started to sprint toward the being in distress.

As I grew closer, I watched as they ended up moving to the other side of the house and out of sight, but I could still hear them crying for help. No walkers were in sight now that I took a deeper look at the scene I inched closer to, and I narrowed my eyes. 

I stopped on the edge of the house, pulling the handgun from it's holster on my thigh and listened to the yells. I listened for any struggling or growling, keeping my guard up as I waited for the person to round the corner. But I heard none of the above, confirming my suspicion of someone acting as bait to draw me in.

Holding the gun up after cocking it, I glared at the woman as I rounded the corner, seeing her with a crowbar risen above her head. She let out a war cry, going to lunge at me, but she immediately stopped when she saw the gun in my hand. Her eyes widened and she glared, letting the crowbar down to her side. She scoffed.

"You're smarter than they say," she growled, gripping her weapon tightly. 

I nodded. "You should have known that. You're also not the best at faking stuff, considering I saw you were surrounded by no one nor any Muertos."

Of course, the woman scoffed, leaning against the house I was wanting to enter. "'Muertos'? Wow. Listen up, Puta. Drop your weapons and get on your damn knees." She took a step forward, raising the crowbar in an attempt to be intimidating.

"You know," I said, taking a step forward as well. "You should really be nicer to the person with a gun to your head."

A loud gunshot echoed around us and she let out an ear-piercing scream, falling to the ground to clutch her now-wounded shin. She clenched her jaw and groaned loudly in pain, glaring up at me with her angry eyes. "Y-You bitch!"

"Sorry, not sorry. You were being a little too cocky and wouldn't listen." I bent down to look at her, trading my gun with my machete. "You the only one out here?"

Ignoring my question, she looked down at her blood-soaked leg and let out a muffled whimper. I moved the blade under her chin and lifted her head in my direction. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"I am; I was part of a group about eight or nine miles from here. I left them.. They were insane," She said, her voice cracking halfway through the sentence. I mentally frowned, noting that I know what it's like having an insane group.