Don't Be Scared

S.1 E.8 ~ Z (Ch. 48)

I grunted as my forehead leaned against his wet-feeling chest to try and muffle the pain. My God, just because I do this doesn't mean you can put all your weight down, 10K! I could feel the salty sweat bleed through his shirt to touch my temple.

"10K, I can't hold you up with my wrists in their shape." I sighed, hoping I wasn't showing weakness. 

Upon hearing the reminder of my wrists' condition, 10K lifted himself back up, bracing his body against the wall. The bottom of his boots were used to stop him from sliding down again. 

"There must be thousands of them." Warren panted, bending down.

"Millions." A new voice interjected in the conversation, "Migrating."

"Migrating to where?" Warren asked confused. 

I didn't even know that zombies migrated like birds. I turned around to scan the new body in the room. My back was facing the tired boy behind me, but if his feet slid down to my heels, I could hopefully catch him before a complete fall happened.

"South for the winter." The guy shrugged like it was common knowledge.

"Zs don't like cold." 10K informed the fact from behind me.

I crossed my arms over my chest, an attempt to make it look like I was perfectly fine while standing. Which, I'm not. It's a whole lie. I'm tired; exhausted like the rest of us. 

"Kid's got it." The newbie supported, "We had a place up in North Dakota near Fort Yates, quiet little place right on the river. Couple dozens of us having a go. I mean, zombie bison every once in a while but that was as bad as it got. Then, the rumbling started and never stopped."

The 'earthquake' that we felt before this mess was like a warning for humans. A bang against the door made everyone turn to look at where the the noise was heard. Rumbling was more evident now that we were paying attention to it and reminded of constant noise the Zs made. 

The new guy mustn't have been use to the big hordes until the Zs made his whole pack leave the comfort of their home; the way he instantly gripped his gun was evidence. 

"Well, where'd they come from?" Doc questioned, confused at the sudden change of their environment.

They must've done something to signal the Zs their way. 

"Refugee camp up in Alberta. Over a million people; no water and no food. It got ugly. They all turned in a week. We should have kept running." The guy shook his head in disapproval of all of our decisions.

Well, excuse the fact that we can't outrun millions of Zs!

"You couldn't get around them?" Warren was confused at an option they--apparently--didn't consider. 

"This herd is miles wide. I mean, it's got a mind of it's own. You can't move fast enough to get around it. Every single thing it overruns just adds to it's crowd. Fast zombies, healthy zombies. Ones that got my friend Buck."

Still, he shook his head in a disapproving manner. Then, he took a silver flask from the back of his pocket. All eyes were on him in a second. Suddenly, I felt a heavy weight fall upon my right shoulder. 

10K. I leaned my head to the side and turned to look at my right shoulder. His chin was upon my shoulder, keeping himself up just like that. What the man would do for a drink, huh? He must really be out of it if he's touching me first. 

Hey, whatever works for him.

"Hey, man, you gonna share that with the class?" 

Doc edged closer to the male so he'd be the first one to get a sip from the flask.