Y’know I said I’d been itching for a good fight? Well Scott gave it to me. At least until I was pulled off him, spitting blood and curses. I wasn’t done, not by a long shot. Shaking the hands off me, I stormed off, heedless, before I could sink my fist into someone else. I had a couple of knives and plenty of walking, rotting punch bags just a couple of miles out of the woods. Closer, if they’d run out of things to eat in town, which they may well have done by now. Might explain why they were in the woods.
By the time I’ve burned off my excess anger, I’d found the den I used to stay in. I pushed open the door cautiously, bruised and aching now, and not much in the mood to do more than flop on a bed and sleep. Both my hands were fisted around my knives, covered in bits of zombies and blood. Despite being kinda tired, I was still on edge.
I heard a groan from the kitchen and froze, listening carefully. This building wasn’t safe; I’d already fought a handful of walkers just to get to this apartment. There was a shuffling noise as who – or whatever – was in there ambled about. Moving forward as silently as the worn carpets allowed me to, I poked my head through the door to get a look. Sensing my presence, eyes were snapped in my direction.
“Cancer,” a familiar voice rasped, relieved and surprised. I vaguely recognised her, though I’d only ever seen her through an opium filter. I couldn’t remember her name. “Oh god, Cancer, I thought I’d never see another live human. I think I’ve gone half insane from the cravings.” I wasn’t paying attention to her words, looking over her for bites or cuts. There, on her arm, almost hidden by the dark long sleeved shirt she was wearing. A crescent shaped bite mark.
“You’ve been bitten,” I said bluntly. I don’t think it was cravings driving her half insane.
“No,” she murmured, “please, I’m fine.” I lifted a knife, the half congealed blood on it glistening threateningly. Her eyes darted to it, terrified. “Please, Cancer,” she begged, wailing as I moved closer. I cut off her pleas quick enough.
As her blood leaked across the floor, pooling around my feet, I decided I really didn’t want to stay there after all. I had a quick look for my guitar – which I found with a foot shaped hole in the back and the neck snapped – before making my way back out into the streets. I wiped the blood from the soles of my shoes on some nearby grass, looking around me. There was a walker shuffling down the road, heading towards some kid that looked a lot like a live human being. I watched quietly, wondering how this would pan out.
I’m not entirely heartless, if the kid looks like he’s in trouble, I’ll step in. ‘Til then, I’ll watch from the sidelines.