Summertime <C. Grimes>

<1> The Woods

Trevor McAllister

I woke up in the tree I had slept in, I untied the ropes around my legs and adjusted myself.

For the past month, that had been normal, only now I was alone. Two days ago, my mom and dad had been taken by a herd.

After checking my surroundings, I climbed down the tree. I slid my backpack off of my back and grabbed one of the protien bars from inside. As I walked in the direction I had been heading all day yesterday, I ate my breakfast. Lucky for me, I never had much of an appetite.

"Thanks ADHD," I muttered to myself.

I had little sense of where I was going. My compass had been lost during the herd attack. I had the sun to guide me, but that wasn't much help in the middle of dense woods.

As I walked I took in my surroundings, although it wasn't much. Just woods. I shoved the granola bar's wrapper into my pocket. Even now, I refused to litter.

Well past noon, I spotted a large rock and decided to take a break there.

I pulled out my book, "The Unwanteds," and read for a while. I pulled out the picture of my family that I had been using as a bookmark and relaxed.

I had read about twenty short chapters when I heard a twig snap somewhere behind me, two people were talking.

Shit, Magnus's men.

I shoved the book and the picture back into my bag and zipped it, then ran as fast as I could in the same direction I had been heading in.

I ran as fast as I could, but I soon became winded. Being trapped behind walls didn't do me any favors.

I stayed focused on what was behind me, but that was a mistake. I didn't know what was in front of me.

Eventually, I ran into someone. I could tell it was someone, and not something, because they were talking.

"Please don't kill me," I squeaked hurriedly, crawling frantically away.

The boy I had bumped into turned around and chuckled. "Why would I do that?" He asked cockily.

Damn, he's hot.

He had long brown hair, a piercing blue eye, and freckles peppered his face. His other eye was covered with gauze.

My lip quivered and I glanced between the boy and the man he had been talking to. He offered me a hand up, and I hesitantly took it. He lifted me off the ground.

"What were you running from?" The man asked.

"People," I breathed. "I think they're from my old community."

The boy shot me a questioning glance, but before either of them could ask any more questions the two people who had been chasing me burst through the bushes. They both raised pistols, but lowered them once the people appeared.

"Rick, there's some kid out- oh he found you," another man retorted. "Why'd you run from us?"

The woman who was with him sheathed her katana and wiped some sweat from her forehead. I hadn't seen any of them before.

"I've been running from some assholes from my old community, my parents and I saw some things we weren't supposed to a few weeks back and they tried to kill us. My parents didn't make it. We ran into a herd. I've been on my own for a couple days." I glanced between the four of them before "Rick" asked me a question.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

I shrugged. "Not many. My parents didn't let me leave often."

"How many people have you killed?"