Georgian Redneck

Chapter 23- Dead Walker Texas Ranger

I finaly wrap my thick head around what happened about two minutes ago and stalk out of the room, dumbfounded. That's how long it took me to get at least half of my shit together. Did that really just happen? That's some... Wow. You read about that shit in books. Is Daryl into kinky stuff? Whoa, hold that thought right there. Not going to think about that one. Yet.

I walk down the black stairs, everyone's attention diverting to my blushing self. This makes me blush even more. A blushing mess. I hate blushing. I hate a lot of things, but blushing takes the fourth space. Third being the world, second being the third Jurrasic Park movie and first ignorant people. Okay, maybe walkers take first place. But c'mon, you can't blame me.

The mood within the group seems to be relatively good, taking in mind what happened a few days ago at the farm. But I guess you just have to move on from the past. Easier said than done, I guess. But they seem to be doing good. And I'm sort of happy about that.

"Glad you're joining us" Glenn mutters from the leather sofa, grinning at Daryl and wiggling his black eyebrows at me. Daryl's just leaning against a wall, glaring at the Korean. Glenn. Glenn fucking Rhee. I miss spending so much time with him. Well, not that we used to spend much time together in the first place. Just a little. I really do miss him.

"No. You're getting the wrong- Nevermind. Let's get the next house cleared" I huff in annoyance, taking my machete out of its sturdy holder and storm out of the big black house. Jerks. They know nothing about what just happened. And the don't need to either. Oh god I hope they won't find out. That's something I'd like to keep between me and Daryl

I find Rick standing by the railing of the steps, the paint peeling off. It's still nice looking though. Maybe a fresh layer of paint would solve the problem.

Rick seems to be deep in thought. He turns around and looks at me when my boot bangs against the wooden planks, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Where are you going?" He asks, a soft smile coming to his lips as he acknowledges my flushed cheeks. I've not seen him smile in a while. Wait. When he found Lori back at the highway was the last time he smiled, I think. I'm not sure. I was too preoccupied with kissing Daryl.

"Check out the next house. It's pretty small so I'll go alone. I'll scream my lungs out if something happens. Wait, maybe not. It'll attract the walkers... I'll run."

I re-consider my sentence, but assure him with a quick nod and walk through the high grass that looks like it hasn't been cut in months. Well, it probably hasn't. Who the hell takes care of their lawn in this appocalypse anyway? It's ridiculous, really.

I walk past an overgrown thorn bush and straight to the red front door of the house I'm about to explore. I've always liked exploring new things. Like run down asylums. They're really fascinating, for some reason. The history, the previous experiments on humans and supposed hauntings.

It's really small compare to the house we just cleared. A cottage really. It's really pretty though. Thick Ivy winds around the front of the house, only leaving the windows and door exposed. It has two floors, and four windows all together. Somewhere I would have liked to live if this world wasnt fucked up the way it is. I mean, the dead trying to tear flesh off living people? That seems kind of fucked up to me.

I try twisting the black door knob but it doesn't open. Or even budge. I sigh in frustration and take a deep breath. This is going to hurt a bit. But pain is temporary. I get mentally ready. 3. 2. 1.

I swing my right leg out and kick the door open with as much force as I can, which knocks me back a couple of metres and makes me stumble, but I don't fall over. Guess you could say I wasn't 'Falling In Reverse'. Skills man, skills. But it does hurt like a bitch. And that was a shit reference. But hey, I managed to kick it open.

I raise my machete and look into the house, the floor littered with little splinters of wood. Better not step on those. But my shocked eyes land at the shaking figure standing in front of me. Bloody hell.

"Rick!" I yell, not shifting my surprised gaze from the blue-eyed man. Screw being quiet I case of walkers. They're bound to come sooner or later anyway.

"Please" he says, dropping the red axe and taking a shaky step back. I think my initial shock is from the fact that an actual human being is standing in front of me. Other than our group members.

The man has scruffy, brown hair and bright blue eyes. The clothes he's wearing have blood stains on them. From walkers, by the looks of it. The clothes are quite normal. A black shirt saying 'boner' and black jeans. Something I'd wear pre-apocalypse.

"What's-" Rick sprints to me but stops as he acknowledges the man. He pulls out his Python out of its holster and aims it at the man, who just stares at us with pleading eyes. A pang of guilt washes over me. Who are we to barge into his house like this? Are we slowly loosing ourselves? Who we initially were? Our humanity? We wouldn't have done this a couple of months back. No. At least I don't think so.

"Who are you?" I ask cautiously, stepping into the cottage and shrugging off Ricks hand as he tries to stop me in the process.

But this man doesn't look dangerous. No. A man who wears a shirt that says 'boner' doesn't look dangerous. But seriously. I'm pretty sure there are more suitable things he could wear. For a starter, running shoes instead of slippers.

"I'm Jack Bruce." he clears his voice and offers a warm smile. How long has he not spoken for? How long has he been in there for without anyone to talk to? Apart from maybe himself?

"You got any weapons on you?" Rick demands from behind me. That's what leaders do. Protect their group from danger. Protecting our group from the dead. And the living. This is what Rick's doing.

Jack points to the bloodstained axe on the wooden floor. That's all. "Rick, can I talk to you for a second?" I ask, smiling gently at the man. He seems nice. And isn't exactly bad looking. But my eyes are on Daryl. Strictly only on him. Like, I'm willing to compare myself to a bee here. Y'know. The way the bee sees poline or some shit in the flowers. God, it's ridiculous comparing myself to a bee.

We exit the small structure and Rick looks at me, anxiously waiting to her what I have to say. I can tell he's not to happy about leaving the stranger alone without watch. But I'll make sure to be quick.

"He can become a part of our broken group. We need extra people to strenghten this group, and you know that. Strength in numbers" I say pleadingly but sternly and Rick seems to consider this for a minute before putting his beloved gun back into its holster. It won't be needed. A surge of triumph washes over me.

"He could be dangerous " he retorts, looking me straight in the eyes. Great, is he really depending on me? Just peachy. He's the leader. All I can do is offer my opinion and try to argue. But the end decision is up to him.

"I used to be a psychologist. The way he talks and his stance isn't threatening. It's... Friendly, I guess that's what you could say. Trust me on this, Rick. I'll take full responsibility of him." I defend, pointing back to the cottage. I don't even know why I'm defending a man I don't even know. Guess it's just a feeling in my gut. But I feel like I'm playing with fire here.

I wait for a minute or two, and just as Jack pops his head out of the wooden door to look at us, Rick agrees "Alright. But he's your responsibility." I feel like some weight has been dropped off my shoulders. I've won this one. I turn around and give Jackie a quick grin.

We have a new member.

(A/N)
Another authors note!
Here's the new character I have been promising to introduce! I don't know, just imagine him looking like Alex Gaskarth from All Time Low or something. The name 'Jack' from 'Jack Barakat' of All Time Low and 'Bruce' from 'Ben Bruce' of Asking Alexandria.