𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 (𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛)

𝑂𝑛𝑒

The woods around me were dead silent, void of even the birds' melodies. The strain of my heavy panting created a rubber band around my lungs, its grip tightening with every breath I took. I stopped, pressing the palm of my hand against the nearest tree. The treetops looked identical to the ones I'd seen an hour ago. I was wandering aimlessly through an endless maze.

I pushed out a heavy sigh before shrugging off my backpack and letting myself shrink down to the floor. I stretched out my legs in front of me, feeling them silently thank me for a break.

An unusually loud grumble erupted from my stomach and I thought back to the jerky I had eaten for dinner two days ago. That memory seemed so distant now. I could feel my mouth start to salivate.

My hand rested on the leather holster secured onto my belt. Inside rested a pistol, of which kind I didn't know. There were a lot of things about guns that I didn't know, including how to use one.

I sat there for what could have easily been either an hour or ten minutes, staring off into the forest around me. I knew it was stupid to be so nonchalant about sitting in a vulnerable position without anyone covering me, but I knew I needed to rest. It's what I get for being alone.

Suddenly, a new noise entered the air. It was faint and muffled but it was there. My head leaned into the direction of the sound. Was this finally it? Has my mind finally been wiped clean of my last shred of sanity?

My ears listened intently as the gears in my brain struggled to comprehend what this sound could be.

Somehow, in my hazy state of mind, I struggled to my feet. My arms didn't bother slinging my backpack over my shoulders. Instead, I let it dangle from the tips of my fingers as I continued on with my sluggish trek.

The incoherent noises suddenly registered in my mind: voices. I started considering that maybe my little escapade was a terrible idea.

Oh, what the hell does it matter? I'm going to starve out here anyway.

I only had to stumble a couple more steps forward before setting my sights on something other than trees: a road, a motor home, and a cluster of somber-looking people gathered around a ghostly man leaning against a tree.

I let out a breathy sigh as I let my backpack fall from my grasp.

"Whoa," the voice came from a large, built man who wasted no time in whipping out his pistol and pointing the muzzle directly at me.

I guess this was a bad idea after all.

✯✯✯

I could feel the cool grass through the fabric of my jeans as I sat on the floor, silently watching the group that I had not-so-casually stumbled upon. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, too far away for me to hear. Nevertheless, I wasn't afraid. Maybe I should've been. For all I knew, they could've been discussing the details of my murder. I think that after my hunger pains disappeared, so did every other feeling in my body.

After I had stupidly given myself away, the surly man who I've now come to know as Shane, snatched away my pack to dump its contents onto the floor. The only thing that came tumbling out was an empty water bottle, granola bar wrappers, and my knife.  After an uncomfortable pat down I was stripped of my gun and allowed to sit on the floor in silence. 

"Hi."

My focus was torn away from the grass I was twiddling between my fingers and I looked up to find a bottle of water and saltine crackers being held out to me. The hand holding them belonged to a meek Asian man—he looked young, probably in his early twenties. He offered me a tiny, sad smile as he held the food and water in his outstretched hand.

"Uh...I'm Glenn."

I took the goodies from his hand and rested them in my lap.

"Sorry about all this," he waved over to the huddled group, "They're just being careful."

I simply nodded and looked down at the water and crackers I now had in my possession. "I noticed that your water bottle was empty and you didn't have any food in your bag so I got you some from the RV. You look like you've been traveling awhile," he said.

"Only for a couple of days," I pushed out, not too loud so that anyone else could hear. He silently nodded in response, still wearing a sad glint in his eye. I could've only assumed it was in relation to the sickly man propped up against a tree trunk like a doll.

"Did that guy get bit?" I cleared my throat and took a sip of my water.

Glenn's eyes glanced over to the man I was referring to and quickly looked back down at me.

"Uh, yeah. That's Jim," he scratched the back of his neck as he answered me. I nodded and peered over to the tree. He looked pale and on the brink of death. A layer of sweat shone over his skin. I had seen this happen only once before to one of the teenagers who had been in my group.

My group...

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced a deep breath. Now wasn't the time to be sad. A pair of footsteps started to approach and my gaze skirted upwards to see a man in a Sheriff's uniform come my way.

"Where are you headed?" His voice reminded me of some friendly cops I used to bump into every now and then at my local coffee shop. They were always calm and collected yet still fully capable of creating chaos if they needed to.

I scrambled to my feet and fought the spinning sensation beginning in my head. 

"Nowhere. I was just hoping I'd find something along the way. Some food or water," I said, trying my best not to sound too shaken up from my daring stunt to stand upright. Mr. Uniform nodded and looked at me with heavy blue eyes.

"My family and I, we're heading to the CDC. There's supposed to be food, water, shelter. You could come with us if you'd like," he explained to me as if he were trying to sell me something.

I shifted my weight from one leg to another, feeling a hot breeze ruffle through my loose t-shirt.

"Why?" I asked with my arms folded and eyebrows knotted.

"Why?" He repeated back to me.

"Your friend over there could've shot me the moment he saw me. You could have left by now and probably gotten there sooner than you will now," I said to him, trying my very best not to pay attention to the swarm of eyes from his group that were now trained on me.

"Because," he looked away from me for a moment, "just because the world's gone bad, doesn't mean we do too. Sending you out there right now on your own would be the equivalent of a death sentence in this world. Now, I don't know you, which is why if you decide to come with us, my friend Dale will be keeping your gun until everyone feels like we can fully trust you. Until then, you should be fine with just your knife."

I looked over to Shane who stood a couple of yards behind the man before me. His beady eyes bore right into me, sending an uneasy feeling down to my stomach. I guess he wasn't too happy about the possibility of me tagging along for the ride.

I understood them wanting to keep my gun, I would've done the same, but it didn't mean I was any less uncomfortable without it. Letting someone disarm me was a dangerous thing, but if it meant I had a chance of reaching somewhere where I would be safe, maybe it was worth the risk. Besides, if they were going to kill me they would've done it already. I was too smart to let my pride get in the way of surviving. 

I found it odd that I was being allowed to keep my knife. Maybe, they truly wanted to believe that there was still a small amount of decency in the world. I found it quite naive. 

"Ok," I said to the man, "I'll bite."

He flashed me a small smile, as though he was pleased with himself for recruiting me into his band of not-so-merry-men. He held out his hand to me and I shook it, noticing how small mine seemed compared to his.

"I'm Rick."

"Charlotte."

✯✯✯

(𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝐞𝒅 𝒐𝒏 5/1/20)