Final Hours

Chapter Eight

I looked at the soft white bedding and walked over to it leaning my hands against it. It molded to the shape of my hands beneath me. It was better than my bed back at home, this whole house was better then everything I've ever experienced. I walked back over to the wooden door and opened it, Chris' door was cracked open in the other room. I peeked into his room, he was sprawled out across the bed out like a light. I knew he wouldn't make it longer than a few seconds after we arrived. I pulled a knit blanket from the chair beside his bed and flung it over him. I walked out of the room closing the door quietly behind me. I looked around at the long hallways around me, it seemed longer now than it did before lots of doors that felt unending. I walked until I came upon a staircase leading down to the foyer we had entered in. The little boy who was clinging to his mother earlier was playing with two little army men toys. He laid on his stomach on the ground bouncing the toys up and down. I walked downstairs and he looked up at me, "What's your name?" I questioned looking down at him. He didn't answer and just looked between me and his toys. "Are those army men?" I said stupidly as if I didn't know what they were. "My...my brother had lots of those growing up." I said kneeling down beside him. He looked at me, he looked a little scared so I distanced myself. "My name's Jennifer...but you can call me Jen." I smiled looking at him. "Hudson come here...now!" A voice called from the door way behind me. I turned my head and saw the woman, his mother. A tall woman, black hair with little grey streaks of age. "Hudson you heard me!" She called pointing in front of her as he scrambled to his feet and ran to her. "Oh...ma'am, I mean no harm." I smiled looking up at her. "I don't know you...and I don't want you around my son." She responded with an angry tone. "U-understood ma'am." I muttered quietly standing up. "Georgia...is there a problem here." The young man said walking down the stairs looking at The woman, Georgia, clutching her son against her. "She...was messing with my son." Georgia hissed. "I promise you ma'am I did nothing of the sorts." I defended myself. "Georgia, let's take a second to think about what actually happened." He said walking over to my side. "What damage could she do." He laughed, he looked back over at me obviously hurt and stopped laughing. "A lot actually." I whispered under my breath. "Anyways, Georgia...she's not going to hurt Hudson." He said looking back over at her. "That's the last thing I'd do." I pleaded. "Did you even check her for bites...she walks in here with a big bag of guns and you just let her roam free." She stuttered trying to make sense of everything. "I promise you I'm not bit...I feel fine." I responded. "And the guns...they're my brothers I only know how to use my handgun, and even that is debatable." I finally broke pleading my case. "I'll check her." He said looking over at me and back at Georgia. He took my wrist into his hand and led me down to another sitting room. "I promise I'm not bit." I said sitting down as he rounded the couch to sit across from me. "And I believe you." He said sitting down and looking at me. "Wait...but you." I started. "Georgia's superstitious and cautious since her son's so young...she probably wasn't the best first person for you to run into." He joked. "So...you know how to use a handgun?" He questioned looking back at me. "Yes...kind of." I answered. "I'm better with a knife, a hunting knife...this one." I pulled the knife out of its sheath and placed it on the coffee table between us. "That's a nice knife." He said as he examined it. "Needs to be cleaned though, you don't want to cut food and get a mouth full of lame brain blood." He joked pushing at dried blood with his finger nail. "Lame...lame brain, you mean walker." I asked. "I thought we covered this already." He said looking up from the knife. "Y'know that's kinda catchy...Walkers it just falls off the tongue doesn't it." He said looking back at the knife. "I'll have to start using it, anyways." He smiled, handing me my knife. I pushed it back into the sheath and closed it. "I'm Eric...Eric Branson." He said looking at me with a smile. "Jennifer Feldman, you can call me Jen." I responded. "And your brother?" He questioned. "Christian, everybody calls him Chris though." I smiled. "So you're good with a knife you say." He smiled.