Feral Citizens

In Memoriam

I was in a tent when I woke up. Or at least, I thought so. As I cracked open my eyes, I saw the orange fabric ceiling above me. There were voices coming from the other side of the tent.

I lifted my head slightly, squinting at them. One was Rick, the other a man I'd never met before. He was tall, and stocky, with thick dark hair, and tanned skin. His back was turned towards me, giving me time to look around the tent for my stuff.

Beside me was a bottle of water and next to it, tucked underneath a pair of pants, was a handgun. It wasn't mine, but it would do.

I lunged for the handgun. As my fingers wrapped around it, I heard the click of a rifle by my ear. Turning slowly, I found myself face to face with the barrel of a gun, held by the muscular stranger. He had a square jaw and dark eyes, with thick, bushy brows and a nose that had definitely been broken more than a few times.

The stranger focused the gun on me, jaw clenching. "Now, I would advise that you put that gun down real quick, ma'am."

I glanced quickly between the man and Rick. After a moment of considering whether the risk as worth it, I slowly placed the gun down.

Rick nodded his approval. His face was flushed with colour, like all the fear and anger he had felt hours ago had been washed away.

"Where's Josie? Is she okay?" I asked, glancing around the tent. My sister wasn't with me. The panic ate away at all other thoughts and emotions I had been feeling before then. I couldn't be away from her, what if something happened and I wasn't there to stop it? I could never forgive myself if I lost Josie. After Dad, and Mom and our brothers, she was my only family.

"She's fine, Liz," Rick said reassuringly. "Shane, put the damn gun down, I told you she's okay."

"From what I hear she left two of ours to die and didn't bat an eyelid," Shane growled. He grasped the shotgun tighter in his hands. I felt sweat beginning to well up as I realised he was more than willing to kill me. In his mind, I had let his people suffer. I couldn't say I wouldn't have done the same. He looked me in the eyes, and asked, "So, can we trust you?"

I thought long and hard about that question. My lips had gone dry, my throat restricting itself from speaking words. It sucked, being on the other side of the gun, waiting for someone to decide if wasn't worth keeping me alive.

"No." I replied coldly. I looked him in the eyes as I said it. Shane's nostrils flared.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You heard me. No," I leaned forward, inches away from the end of his shotgun. One single, fluid movement and everything was over for me. "you shouldn't trust anyone."

Shane moved back, the cold metal of the gun barrel retreated. Behind him, Rick was red faced and furious. He looked at me incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. I was more than aware I hadn't given the answer either had expected. There was no use in being dishonest here.

An old man stepped inside the tent, casting me a glance filled with suspicion, but also worry. He was short and portly, with a flower adorned button-down shirt and pants that matched the floppy hat perched on his head. He raised one thick, bushy brow and leaned towards Rick and Shane. I pushed myself up onto my haunches, eager to hear what they had to say.

"So? Is she safe?" the old man questioned. Shane rubbed the back of his head.

"I dunno, man," Shane looked to Rick. "I know you say you trust her and all but honestly, she ain't given us no reason to do the same."

"Shane, I am telling you- this woman probably saved my life in Atlanta, her sister too," Rick gripped Shane by the shoulder. They were comfortable with each other, more than willing to invade one another's private space. I could tell right off the bat, these men had met before, at the least. Maybe they were closer, but who knew. "I'd have never made it back to Carl and Lori without them."