Sneaky

Chapter 151

I guarded the cars with most of the group while Rick, Carl, Glenn, Maggie, T-Dog, Daryl — basically everyone able-bodied except for me breached the house.

The rest of us waited, ready to get out in case it's a no-go. I kept watch from the truck bed (Randall in the driver's seat) on the dirt driveway scattered with leaves and on the neighborhood road just in case.

A few minutes later, Rick whistled from the porch of the filthy white house and the others started getting out of the cars; all of them facing out for a quick getaway, just like always.

I stayed put until everyone was out and Randall tossed me the keys, I stuffed the keys in pocket and jumped down, following the others inside just as Daryl came down the stairs — with a dead owl...

I sucked my lips between my teeth. I'm not gonna ask, I'm not even gonna comment. I will however say, there's no chance of contacting hogwarts anymore.

I followed him to the sitting room with ungly green wooden walls and ceiling and sat in an armchair, which he proceeded to sit on the arm rest, picking the feathers off of his owl.

I picked up one of the feathers twirling it in my fingers and watching Glenn pick a couple granola bars out of our food bag for him and Maggie. Yes we have a food bag. Singular. We've gotta find more food. All of these houses have been empty or the foot has rotted though.

The only canned thing we've found is those 2 that Carl just walked in with, and they're technically edible but dog food isn't exactly meant for human consumption.

I watched Rick go over and pick it up from him, looking at the label. And then chuck it at the fireplace like it's personally offended his royal highness.

Daryl flinched and that made me flinch and put my hand on his back.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder at me after the both of us looked at Rick weirdly. He looks like he's asking me if I know why he did that, but I shrugged. Hell if I know. He's been like that for weeks now. Snippy, short tempered, frustrated, and weirdly quiet. He doesn't share a lot these days, just gives orders and lets the rest of us do the deliberation and then gives the final word. Like war generals and the king.

It's been like this since Lori hit the last trimester of pregnancy.

I reached for the bag, picking out a little package of fruit snacks and tore it open right as T-Dog tapped his foot on the ground, "Psst"

I looked, along with everyone else, and he jerked his head at the window, standing up with his fire stoker.

Time to go.

I stood, dumping the entire package into my mouth and flicking the wrapper as I pulled my knives and headed out first. The only time I take point anymore is this; when there's almost guaranteed close-range resistance directly in our path.

And I went straight to the truck, with the rest of the troop right behind me. As soon as all doors in the truck closed, I took off, the other cars right behind us.

This is getting ridiculous.