Walking With the Dead

Glenn wasted no time in drawing Emma into conversation. He started by telling Emma everything that had happened to the group since the apocalypse, about how they found each other after the bombing of Atlanta and survived by living in the woods. He talked about how they had been attacked by a group of walkers a few weeks ago and lost six people, including Carol’s husband and Andrea’s younger sister.

“We lost one of our own this morning,” Glenn said, his face weary. “We found refuge at the CDC, only the generators ran out of power. It was a ticking time bomb. We barely made it out before the whole place went up in flames. One of us stayed behind; she’d wanted to choose how she went, not leave it to the geeks.”

Glenn didn’t look at Emma when he spoke; his eyes were trained on the road and his hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Emma could see he was shaken. Hell, she was too. She couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t on edge every minute of the day.

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, and unlike the apology she gave Shane, she genuinely meant it.

Glenn turned to Emma and smiled. His face brightened and Emma could see the youthful exuberance underneath the grim exterior everyone seemed to wear these days.

Emma didn’t know she had fallen asleep until she woke up. The sky was painted with soft pinks indicative of the setting sun. Glenn had just shut off the van and was grabbing bags from the backseat.

“How long was I sleeping?” Emma asked. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and was surprised she actually felt somewhat rested.

“Couple hours.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You probably needed the sleep.” Glenn grabbed one last bag and held it out to Emma. “You wanna help set up camp?”

For the next hour everyone worked together at putting camp together. First the men surveyed the forest to ensure the surrounding area was free of walkers. After getting the okay that they were safe, everyone set to work, pitching tents and starting a small fire.

Everything ran smoothly, like a well-oiled machine. Everyone knew exactly what they had to do and how to do it. Everyone except for Emma. There was no real place for her to be, so she ended up following Glenn, trying to help where she could but feeling like she was more in the way than an actual help.

By the time the sun had set everyone was gathered around the campfire, eating a meager meal of baked beans and stale crackers. The mood was somber due to the fact they lost a friend earlier that day.

Emma watched as Dale handed a plate of food to Andrea, but she didn’t take it. She wouldn’t even look Dale in the face. She had her arms crossed over her body and was staring off into the distance, her face completely emotionless. Eventually Dale gave up and set the plate down by her feet.

“Andrea wanted to stay behind at the CDC,” Glenn whispered in Emma’s ear. “Ever since she lost Amy, she’s been a bit… off. I don’t know how he did it, but Dale convinced Andrea to leave. Just in time, too.”

Emma nodded in understanding and gave Glenn a smile of thanks. She was glad to have Glenn by her side. He was her personal encyclopedia.

Silence fell over the group as everyone finished their dinner. Carol, along with her daughter Sophia, collected all the plates and went into the RV to wash the dishes. After that, everyone seemed to disperse and do their own thing. Lori started to mend a hole in a pair of socks. Shane worked on cleaning out his shotgun. T-Dog attempted to read a book by firelight. Even Glenn worked on sorting the supplies Emma brought. Suddenly, Emma felt worthless. There was nothing she could contribute to the group.

“Emma, do you knit?” Dale asked.

Emma looked up at the elderly man with surprise. She had been an avid knitter back home. She enjoyed it. It gave her hours of busy work and a final project she was proud of. “How did you know?”

Dale motioned his eyes towards Emma’s fingers. “The calluses on your fingertips. My wife would get them too.”

Emma smiled and instinctively curled her fingers towards her palms. Before anything else could be said, Dale disappeared into his RV and reappeared a few minutes later carrying a picnic basket. He placed it on the ground by Emma’s feet.

“These were my wife’s knitting supplies. I have no use for them now. You can take them, if you want.”

Emma looked through the basket. There were about a dozen skeins of yarn and at least one pair of needles in every size. A collection like this took years to accumulate. “This is really too much. I can’t accept this.”

“Don’t worry about that. Please, take them. My wife would be upset to see I let her supplies go to waste.”

In another life, Emma would have refused such a gift. But these were different times, and no one could afford to let things go to waste. Emma smiled thankfully at Dale. “Thank you. Very much.”

It didn’t take long for Emma to decide on what her first project should be. Dale’s wife had a large amount of wool-blend yarn, perfect for making warm clothes. Emma picked out a pair of circular needles and started on making a hat.

In the beginning her fingers were clumsy and stiff. It had been several weeks since she last held a pair of knitting needles. But soon enough her joints loosened and knitting became second-nature. It wasn’t long until she had outlined the brim of the hat.

“So, Emma, what’s your story?”

Emma had been so focused on her knitting that she jumped when Dale asked her a question. “My story?” Suddenly Emma was feeling flustered. Everyone’s attention was on her. She felt like she was an interview of sorts.

“Yeah. Tell us what brought you here.” This time it was Lori who spoke up. Now she was mending a tear in a shirt. Her son, Carl, was just an arms-reach away from her, doodling in a notebook.

Glenn leaned over and whispered in Emma’s ear. “You might as well get it over with now. We’ve been stuck with each other for weeks, but you’re like a shiny new toy. Everyone wants to play with you.”

Emma gave a forced chuckle. She wasn’t sure she liked the analogy, but she let it slide.

“Just start by telling us where you’re from,” T-Dog added. He had put his book aside.

“Well, I’m from Seattle.”

“You’re a long way from home. What were you doing in Atlanta?”

Emma smiled at the irony of the question. She had asked her that very same question hundreds of times in the past weeks. What was I doing in Atlanta? At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. In hindsight, it was probably the stupidest mistake she’d ever done.

“There was a boy…” Emma started. Then she went into the story about how her then-boyfriend had gotten an internship at a publishing company in Atlanta. Three months into his internship, Emma decided to surprise him by flying to Atlanta to spend the week a week with him.

“Only…” Emma chewed on the inside of her lip. She knew what had happened, but to say it out loud was a whole other story.

“Only you walked in on him screwing another girl.”

Emma’s eyes flitted over to the speaker. It was Daryl. The only reason Emma recognized him was because Glenn had referred to him as, “the guy with the crossbow.” Emma watched as Daryl sharpened a large bowie knife against a rock, sending showers of sparks into the air. She felt fury build up in her chest. Who does Daryl think he is? What gives him the right to tell my story?

“Yeah. That’s exactly what happened.”

“Not like it’s a surprise, though. Every relationship ends up like that. And that long-distance relationship shit don’t ever work. It’s a death sentence from the start.” Daryl didn’t even have the decency to look up from his knife while he spoke.

The fury sparked even brighter in Emma, but she couldn’t identify why. Sure, Daryl was being rude. But what bothered Emma most was that Daryl was speaking the truth, and she knew it. Part of her knew from the beginning that the “long-distance relationship shit,” as Daryl called it, would be the end of them. But another part, a larger part, had hoped they would be the exception. But she was wrong.

Emma wanted to push the bad thoughts away, so she decided to finish her story.

“A few days later the virus, or whatever it was, spread worldwide. All the airports and train stations closed down. I was stuck in Atlanta with no way to get home.” Emma continued by saying she didn’t have any other choice but to partner up with her ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend.

Following that statement, Emma got several words of comfort, mainly from the women in the group. They all realized how painful it was to be cheated on, and to have to rely on that person was the worst. Maybe Emma was imagining it, but she thought she saw Shane shoot a hard look at Emma. It was probably nothing, but Emma made a mental note to ask Glenn about it later.

“So, what happened next?” Carol asked.

Emma didn’t know quite what to say. She felt awkward, dominating the conversation. But everyone – maybe with the exception of Daryl – was sitting on the edge of their seats, hanging onto her every word. Emma smiled inwardly. Maybe I am their shiny new toy. Or at least a brand new episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

“Last night we were attacked by a small group of walkers. I was the only one who made it.” And that was the somber end of the story. Well, actually it isn’t, Emma thought and she chewed on the inside of her lip, debating on whether she should finish it. It was a touchy subject, but she decided she might as well say it.

“The girlfriend turned into one of them,” Emma said, referring to the walkers. She chewed on the inside of her lip and a twisted grin crossed her face. “I have to admit, it felt damn good to blow that bitch’s brains out.”

Stunned silence fell over the group, and Emma immediately knew she had said the wrong thing. They were going to think she was a psychopath and ditch her at the first possible moment. All these thoughts were going through her mind when the one thing she least expected happened.

The group broke into laughter.

After that, everyone was laughing and having a good time, listing off the names of people they wish they could kill. Ex-girlfriends, mean teachers and hard-ass bosses. Everyone had at least one person they wanted to put a bullet in. Their humor was morbid and grotesque, but so was the world they lived in.

Emma sat back, with a feeling of relief. It was like she had just faced a test and passed. She felt like with that one statement of truth she had been accepted into the group.

A little while later Sophia walked over to Emma. She watched as Emma picked at the yarn with her needles. “That’s really pretty.” Her voice was soft and sweet, and she hugged a rag doll to her chest as she spoke.

“Thank you.”

“Do you think you could teach me how to knit?”

“Sure. When do you need to go to bed?”

Sophia looked at her mom for the answer. “Not for another hour.”

“Plenty of time.” Emma started rummaging through the picnic basket. She found a pair of plastic needles and a small ball of soft pink yarn. “Perfect for a young girl such as yourself,” Emma said, and Sophia giggled.

Emma spent the next hour coaching Sophia on how to hold the needles, how to cast on and how to slip the first stitch of every row. Sophia was a fast learner, and by the end of their lesson she had a small swatch done, four inches across and two inches wide. The stitches were uneven and the rows slightly crooked, but it was a start and Sophia was proud of it.

“Look, Mama! Look what Emma taught me!” Sophia said as she shoved the yarn under Carol’s face.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.” Carol gave her daughter a warm hug while also giving a smile of gratitude to Emma.

Before heading off to bed, Sophia excitedly chattered on about how she was going to work on the scarf every day until it was finished. But Sophia never had a chance to finish her scarf. Because the next day, Sophia went missing.