Don't Be Scared

S.1 E.2 ~ FZ (Ch. 7)

"To us, it's the apocalypse. To her, it's the memories." Murphy spoke negatively about my future sister-in-law taking the pictures and videos of the world we wandered in.

"Would it hurt the antibodies if I kicked him in the nuts?" Warren wondered about the consequences of such a cruel action.

The man that seemed to be developing a crush over my mom-figure just chuckled out, crossing his strong arms over the broadness chest of his.

"So, what's your name, kid?" Doc interrogated, opening up the car door that 'kid' was looting for gas.

I walked over to the other car, popping open the passenger door first. Nothing, but some kind of flyer for cheese in Wisconsin.

"Ten Thousand."

"That's not a name. It's a number if I remember correctly." I enlightened the taller male of the one-two-three's.

"It's my name. Made it up myself."

10K didn't seem fazed by my rude comment. Murphy would be having a duck if I spoke to him like that. At least this one doesn't have a temper on him.

That's good.

"Well, I suppose you'd have to. Does it mean anything?" Doc continued to ask, getting the car that was in front of mine.

I passed him, reaching the red SUV that was trampled by a large truck with what resembled as tractor wheels attached.

"How many zombies I'm going to kill."

"Well, that's a whole lot of zombies." Doc chuckled to himself, impressed with his audacity.

I heard something called admiration in Doc's voice. Though he doesn't know this kid or his past, he still shows admiration. Another aspect that I love about Doc. Without even caring, I just opened up the backseat of the car.

Instead of finding the usual dust, I found a zombie. A Z that grabbed the top of my thigh. I let out a shout as I fell to my butt. The dirt beneath me didn't sell as a cushion, but a hard reminder that the thing was using my body part to pull itself out of the crushed vehicle.

Before I could reach down to grab my pocket knife, someone piked the almost free Z with a crowbar.

Ten Thousand.

I let out a breath of air as I relaxed against the dusty ground.

"Already on, one-thousand-fifty-five."

Ten Thousand looked at me and did something I didn't think he'd do for awhile. He offered a hand. The boy did look a bit uneasy at his own gesture, but nevertheless, still craned the limb out for me to take.

Smiling, I clasped my hand on top of his, not really having to put any muscle into getting up. The guy brought me onto my feet all on his own. Very impressive.

"Thanks." I mumbled, receding from his chest.

Okay, the brown-eyed boy didn't have to bring me that close to his chest. Yet, something in me brought warmth to my cheeks than any part of my body. Maybe it's because he's finally showing some kindness to us?

To me?

"Damn! So, what happens when you get to your goal?" Doc asked, coming from behind me.

Looking pass 10K, I kicked the already dead Z's head. Stupid Z. I felt a large hand pat my shoulder, trying to comfort me in a way to show I'll be alright.

"Change my name."

10K moved to his next car.

"To what? Jeff?" I snickered, but he didn't look my way when I wanted to see his facial expression.

"Twenty-Thousand?" Doc joked next.

"I like the name 'Jeff'." He muttered, opening up a dark blue car door.

No. Jeff doesn't suit him very well. He looks more like Tom. Tommy the Z-Killer. I like the sound of that.

"Ah, shut up." Murphy snapped, looking off into the far distance.

We all glanced up at the ignorant man who did nothing while we did everything. He's such an irritant bastard.

"Where did everybody go?" Charlie questioned himself.

"I haven't seen a survivor except for those two bikers." Mack stated the fact that we all knew.

Not a soul in sight. Either those bikers were passing by or they have a camp near by.

"Black Summer." Cassandra recalled the hard time last summer had given to all of us living, "Everybody starved to death. I was in Philly for Black Summer. It got bad. I lost thirty pounds. Thought I was dead."

"How did you survive?" I asked, taking a break from scavenging.

I walked away from the cars, but we were all still spaced out. Doc and 10K put me in between them as we all just started to chat about the cruel past summer.

"Did what I had to do." She shrugged off my question as if she was in the shower and my question was the dirt.

That's highly suspicious; especially since I saw those bikers staring at her. The young woman started to rummage through something, trying to get the tension off her back.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa." Someone new cut the tension between all of us.

I shot my head straight up to see Mack with a new breather. One of the bikers. Everyone raised their weapons, aiming at the outsider that was held from behind. In the corner of my eye, I watched as Cassandra didn't even hesitate to aim her gun in between his eyes.

Since I was safely in between the two that held deadly weapons, I didn't bother to grab the six-inch knife hidden in my pocket.

"Hey. Whoa-whoa."

Mack pushed him forward into the dented-looking circle we made around him.

He was watching us. But for how long? Getting nervous, my right hand grabbed the first thing I could. 10K's white-based colored shirt with grey splashed on top and maybe four or seven spots of black.

I stayed behind the not-so-old looking guy. His raven hair swung across his face as he looked down at me but moved back to the stranger when he realized he had bigger fish to fry.

"It's not a Z." Warren spoke, shaking her head.

"Peace. No bites here." The guy smiled, holding his hands up in surrender.

Addy had her spiked bat pointing down at him, ready to strike when called for. Mack stayed right beside her. Every now and then, I saw him glance my way.

"What happened to your friend?" Charlie questioned, going into protective mode.

"Turns out he had other friends of low morals. Took my ride."

Why take his ride? Did he not agree to something that they wanted, or was it the other way around?

"Horse thieves should be shot." Warren agreed, but it also warned him not to get any ideas about our ride.

"Yeah." He glanced over at Cassandra after Warren had warned him, but indecisive to finish words, "Good advice."

There was something not good about this. I've got a bad feeling.

"What can we do for you?" Charlie wondered out loud.

Once he started to lower his weapon, the rest of us followed suit. I didn't have a gun to lower since I preferred hand-to-hand combat. It gives me a better advantage, because I suck at moving targets.

"One peaceful group of humans to a lone traveler? Could use a lift. Sure don't want to spend the night out here alone."

The guy leaned his weight back on his heels before balancing himself out. What's his game?

|| There is always a reason as to why the bad things happen ||