Love Bites ~ Craig of the Dead au ~ Tricia x Karen fan fiction [COMPLETE]

11

After tying up the intruder, we put him in the back of the pick up truck beside the door. Henrietta drives, with Firkle in the passenger seat opposite to threaten the blond with the gun. I sit in the middle seat and Karen takes the seat behind Firkle.

"Are your restraints too tight?" I ask.

"Yes." He scowls.

"Good," I give a smile, "now, are you going to tell us your name?"

He shakes his head.

Firkle cocks the gun.

"Okay okay!" He rolls his eyes and, albeit reluctantly, tells us his name is Phillip, "what do you want with me?"

"We're just taking you for a drive. But, if you're being rude we may have to push you out of the moving vehicle." Henrietta replies casually.

Phillip swallows nervously.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Nowhere in particular," Karen pipes up, "unless you can take us to this place."

She holds the address Gregory gave us in front of him to read.

"What can you tell us about this address?" I ask, "could you tell us how to get there? It's really urgent."

"Who told you to go there?" Phillip demands, "who told you about us?"

"Tell us what you know." I grab the door handle.

"Okay okay! Jesus Christ," he panics. I remove my hand and he continues, "we're a group of survivors and we help people out like decent human beings. Like, if you need to travel to another state or you think you've got family in another country. So far, we've been to England, france and Germany."

"Seriously?" Karen gasps, "I've always wanted to go to England!"

"That's how I'm here. I'm from London." He smiles at her.

"I told you he had a British accent." Henrietta elbows Firkle playfully.

"Actually, the British accent is completely inaccurate. Britain is made up of England, Scotland and Wales, which all have loads of accents. I hate it when people refer to the posh accent used on tv as the 'british accent'," Phillip rolls his eyes, then realises he's rambled on too much and clears his throat, "uh... anyway. America seems to have the apocalypse worse than anyone else. Terrence says it started here, but we don't have any proof."

"Terrence? Who's that?" I ask.

"He's the son of a scientist here in Colorado. I heard he published a book a few years ago so I went to the library to check it out. That's when you attacked me." He glares at us.

"Oops." We all awkwardly laugh.

A small hoard passes us, but doesn't seem very interested. Even the bloater just walks away.

Henrietta carefully turns a corner, narrowly avoiding hitting a mailbox that's fallen slightly, and parks outside the library. We clumsily left the doors wide open for anything to wander through, but by some weird luck, the place seems to still be empty.