Surviving Walkers

S01E03 - Friendly Encounter

On the road, passing the undead, watching parents feed off of their children, smashing through whatever that was on our way, Ryan drove, fast. We went far away from the isolated area to the city, where my home was. The shotgun and what we had collected from the horror-filled house were tossed-on to the back seat of modern SUV. I held my handgun tight. With it, I had this strange sense of welcoming danger. I was alive.

"You murdered her!" I remembered yelling at Ryan, aiming that exact weapon. Alex was there, headless, bleeding from every part of her body.

"You shot Tara you son of a bitch!" He yelled back.

"She was already dead! She was turned!" I yelled louder.

"And Alex was alive?" Ryan asked smirking. "She had her guts pulled out!"

"We could've helped her!"

Ryan chuckled.

"Wake up brother." He said. "It wasn't Alex, not anymore. Just like it wasn't Tara."

"Why did you do it man?" I said holding the gun up, not knowing what to do with it.

"If you're gonna shoot me—shoot me. I'm done talking." He said.

As my vision burred with tears, I lowered the handgun.

"Was she really dead?" I asked, as I felt the tear drops trying to leave my eye.

"Dead or alive—she wasn't Alex." He said putting his hand on my shoulder. I turned my head down, and shut my eyes hard. "Come on." He called. "Let's get the hell out of here."

We reached downstairs and entered into the kitchen. There was a bag of medicine and supplies between two dead bodies, which was prepared by Ricky. Another bag of canned food accompanied them. Ryan started to go through the upper drawers.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"The stuff in the bag are old people's meds. For heart attacks and whatnot. The good stuff is in here." He said.

"Why would he keep his meds in the kitchen anyway?" I Asked.

"He doesn't, Amy does." Amy was the nurse that took care of the dead old man.

"Bro check for the keys—Hancock mentioned they have a truck outside."

"Where would they be?" I asked.

Ryan didn't say anything, but looked at Hancock's dead body. I understood what he meant. I tucked the handgun in my jeans and crouched before the body, avoiding the pool of blood on the floor. He had a brown jacket and black pants, which was soaked in dark red. I searched, with disgust, and found shotgun ammo in one of his pockets, which I passed to Ryan. With luck on my side, I found the keys to a Mercedes Benz soon. That was when I heard the godforsaken growling noise again. I jumped back quickly and held my weapon pointed to shoot him. Ryan had stopped his doings and was ready with his shotgun too. We stood there leaving the dead to make the next move. As expected, we heard another growl. Not from Hancock, but from his son, Ricky. I saw where Ryan had shot him before. The bullet had gone right into his heart. We both watched him, examining the process of 'turning', as he tried his best to stand up. Finally after he was done with it, he waited looking at us both as if he was deciding which one of us he should come after first. Then he took his step towards me. In the next split second, Ryan grabbed a hatchet from nowhere and chopped his head off.

A sharp hit on the breaks pulled me out from my train of thoughts. I heard Ryan cursing with the worst as he tried to control the drifting vehicle. I put pressure on my legs and tried to hold the posture, not giving into the violently rocking vehicle. I heard the shotgun tossing away and falling down along with our two bags of resources. Finally, the vehicle stopped after tires screamed as if they were in tremendous pain.