𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 ➛ 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

one

THE SMELL OF QUARRY WATER OVERCAME ME AS THE FEELING OF DRIED FABRIC PASSED THROUGH MY FINGERTIPS. The water that was within my view filled me with a tranquil feeling. Sun beams passed through the surface tension of the small ripples the breeze made in the pastel water. For a moment, it almost didn't look real. The quarry reminded me of simpler times - times where my feet ached less and my bones knew the feel of a mattress.

My hair — the chocolate color weaved itself down my back, a simple black elastic holding the frayed ends together. My bangs overshadowed my forehead — much to my liking — and rested just above my arched eyebrows. Tendrils fell by my ears to frame my cheekbones; I was a creature of habit.
I could not bear to part with the effortless look that spared me from the overbearing heat I was constantly basking in. Besides, holding onto any piece of the girl I used to be was all I could do, for the world I had grown into hadn't greeted me the way she used to.

Abruptly, an obnoxious noise echoed off the quarry rocks. I dropped the shirt I had been folding, letting it fall stagnant in the hamper. A cloud of dust drifted upon the roads that led to our camp. Dust spewed in the chili, hot red sports car's wake and I only hoped it was Glenn or one of the members of our group that had ventured into Atlanta days ago. This new world was treacherous and I was no stranger to that.

Shane Walsh, our unofficial leader, strutted forward. His square shoulders were poised in authority and his thumbs fiddled with his belt. Shane always seemed cocky; in the way he held himself, the way he spoke. I just chalked it up to him being who he was: a cop. His cockiness was his weapon and he used it mostly for intimidation.
A man who I had grown close to since meeting, Dale Horvath, stood on top of his trusty RV. Dale had been the one to take us all away from the highway in Atlanta and I was forever in his debt.

"Talk to me, Dale," Shane spoke.

"Can't tell yet." Dale pulled up his binoculars. His eyes still squinted as he fought to see what came our way.

"Is it them? Are they back?" Amy, Andrea's sister, asked, desperation in her voice.

Amy reminded me a lot of myself. Like me, she was family oriented. Amy and Andrea were a reminder of the good the world had taken from most, myself included. The two blonde sisters also reminded me of my own siblings: James and Spencer — the men who I missed more than I could begin to express. I had always trusted them with my life — had.
Now, they were both forgotten names sketched onto makeshift crosses and I was the sole survivor of my family name.

"I'll be damned..,"

"What is it?" I squinted in the sun. I had my own theories about the car, but I was desperate to hear someone else's.

"Stolen car is my guess."

The sports car skidded to a stop and particles of dust floated over the camp, hiding us in a beige haze. I crossed my fingers. Please be okay. Glenn Rhee exited the car, his infamous baseball cap on his head. My lips slipped into a smile. Oh, thank god.

"Jesus, turn that thing off!" Dale hollered.

Glenn shrugged. "I don't know how!"

The alarm blared and sent a ringing tone to my ear drums. I placed my hands over my ears, the sound getting under my skin quickly. Jesus Christ, turn it off; anyone.