You're Hoping For A Taste

I'm floating in the ocean. I'm pretty sure that's what's happening. But I'm face-down, submerged. My face is cold and wet and I'm rocking to and fro, weightless. I've never been able to open my eyes underwater, but this time I wish so desperately to see what lives beneath the waves. Maybe this one time I could do it, just maybe. After three I'll open them and see what waits below. This could be a whole different world for me. No more death, no more pain. I could resign myself to the ocean and never look above the waves again. I can forget about everything.

One.

Two.

Three.

Blue and green and blurry. This is it, that other world below the waves. And then something dark crosses my vision, like the moon across the sun, and whatever it is, this shadow, it knows my name and I panic. I move up, and my internal gyroscope is so confused. Is this up? Is this down? I should be going deeper into the depths, but I don't feel like I'm floating any more. All I know is that whatever this shadow is, I have to stop it before it stops me. My hands wrap around something cylindrical and soft and I have the shadow pinned. And then as everything focusses I see what the shadow is.

My fingers are curled around Kellin's neck, pushing him against the ground. His face is a mask of shock. His eyes, the colour of the forest around us, are wide. But his lips, though parted in surprise, are on the edge of curving into a smile. There's mud smeared on his face, now dry and peeling, and I remember how it got there. The man who took our car, newly Turned, attacked us.

I unwind my fingers from Kellin's neck, thankful that I wasn't properly squeezing.

“Morning,” Kellin says, his tone light, and his face properly breaks into a grin now.

I manage a sheepish smile in return. My head feels like lead. “Morning.”

“Are we gonna stay like this all day or...?” he adds. I realise I'm straddling him and I stutter out an apology as I hurriedly clamber off him, but the sudden movement has my head reeling, metallic spots swirling in my vision. “Whoa, take it easy, Alexa,” Kellin says, reaching an arm out to steady me, “you've been out cold for hours.”

I run a hand across my forehead and it comes away damp. “Why is my face wet?”

Kellin screws up his face a little. “You had mud and blood and bits of... stuff on your face, so I cleaned you up.”

He holds up a scrap of cloth and I notice that it's been ripped from his t-shirt. I give him a disapproving look, but he only says, “It's fine. My shirt got torn during the attack anyway, this bit was just hanging off.”

That's when I hear the sound of running water, just a trickle, but fresh water all the same, and I peer round Kellin to see a stream bubbling. Suddenly my thirst is unbearable, and shakily I crawl past Kellin, him still protectively holding out his hands towards me as though the slightest breeze might break me into fragments. I scoop water into my hands and drink, knowing full well that if I drink too much too fast then I'll probably just bring it back up again but I can't stop.

After a few more gulps, I force myself to stop, falling back on my heels. I kneel by the stream, panting, water running down my chin like I've gone Walker for it instead of flesh.

I turn to look at Kellin, still just sitting there, watching me. “How long was I out exactly?”

He glances at his watch. “About five hours. You must have hit your head during the attack or just fainted, I don't know, but Jesus Christ, Alexa, you scared the shit out of me. For a minute there I thought you'd been bitten but I couldn't see any bites or blood and...”

I can see the pain on his face, the pain I've put him through without even realising it. He must have been frantic, not because he'd have lost me and been on his own, but because he probably would have had to kill me too, and I don't know if he has it in him to do that if and when the time comes. It must have reminded him of losing his wife and daughter.

“Did you carry me here?” I ask.

He nods. He had to carry me, through the wind and the rain and his own exhaustion, to safety, or the closest place to safety he could find. Then he had to sit through the night waiting for me to wake up as either Alexa the human or Alexa the Walker. I open my arms, gesturing for a hug, and he pulls me to him. We both smell horrendous, that sharp yet stale tang of sweat and dirt, but to be quite honest I really don't care; I'm just happy that we're both alive. I'm so grateful to him.

“Come here, let me return the favour,” I say, pulling away. I take the scrap of his t-shirt from his hand. I dip it in the stream, squeeze out the excess water, then gently take his chin in my hand while I begin to wash the mud from his face. It's caked on and I have to roughly scrub at it, flakes fluttering down to land in his lap. He screws up his face like a child but lets me get on with it, and I have to stifle a laugh.

“So I was thinking...” he begins as I lift his fringe aside to scrub at a smattering of what looks like dried blood, but I don't mention that fact to him.

“Yeah?”

“The Walker...”

“Yep?”

“Was the guy who stole our car, so...”

“Bloody hell, Kellin, stop with the dramatic pauses and spit it out.”

He smiles mischievously. “Where's our car?”

I stop scrubbing and sit back to look at him properly. I feel an answering smile flowering to life. “You're not just a pretty face, are you?”

His grin widens. “Oh there's a lot more to me than that.”

When I've finished scrubbing Kellin's face red raw and we've had enough to drink, we decide to return to the road and search for our car. We might find it completely smashed up against a tree trunk or just sitting idly in the road, but either way we'll get all our stuff back, including the walkie-talkie.

Kellin has to take my hand and help me up the slope from the stream. The ankle that the Walker grabbed and yanked is painful to put my weight on. I manage to walk for a few metres before the pain becomes excruciating.

“It really hurts,” I say, grimacing as I take a breather.

Kellin stands watching me, concern etched on his face. Then he turns his back to me and crouches slightly, holding his arms out behind him. He flexes his fingers, gesturing me towards him. “Come on, get on.”

“Are you offering me a piggyback?”

“Yeah, now get on.”

“No, Kellin, now way; I'm surprised you haven't collapsed yourself yet.”

He rolls his eyes as he glances over his shoulder at me. “Just get on before I do a fireman's lift on you.”

I sigh and grudgingly step forwards. Kellin crouches a bit lower so I can climb on rather than jump. Once on, Kellin stands up straighter and shifts me higher with a jolt before he starts walking. My ankle feels good now there's no weight on it but my conscience, however, feels bad with the moral weight of Kellin having to carry me; as if I haven't been a burden enough.

Sunlight has been filtering through the trees, soft and gold, but when Kellin steps onto the road the light hits us in full force, warming our skin. I lift my face to it, closing my eyes. Last night was the coldest I've ever been.

Kellin trudges along the road, and after fifteen minutes, the effort clear in his ragged breathing, I force him to put me down. He protests that he's fine, but that's utter crap; he hasn't eaten for twenty-four hours and he's barely slept, how he's still standing I don't know.

And then we see it. A soft plume of grey curling into the sky round a bend in the road, its source obscured by trees.

“Our car?” I suggest.

Kellin's face lights up a little, like someone's struck a match behind his eyes. “Might be.”

We hurry around the corner as fast as we can, or as fast as an exhausted guy and an injured girl can move, and at the top of the road, just before another bend, is our car. It's like I predicted, the front smashed up against a tree, smoke billowing from the bonnet, the driver's door flung open. I'd guess that the man was already Infected when he found us and thought he could make a run for it to friends maybe, or maybe he just didn't want to believe he was Infected and took the opportunity to acquire himself a car and supplies for what he hoped was a long life ahead of him. Either way we'll never know, all that matters is we've struck gold.

When we reach the car, my ankle throbbing, Kellin tries turning the key in the ignition but nothing happens. The car's completely written off. He rifles inside while I lean against the open car door and pops back out with the walkie-talkie in his hand.

He pushes the button on the side and says, “Gabe? Jesse? Are you guys there? It's Kellin.”

We wait. Nothing for a few unbearable seconds. Kellin repeats his message. We exchange an uneasy look. And then a burst of static and a voice calling, “Kellin? Dude, is that you? It's Justin! What the fuck happened?”

“Long story,” Kellin answers with a sigh of relief, “just come get us, would you?”

“Sure, where are you?”

Kellin looks around, a hand resting on his forehead. “Um, I don't know exactly. We're on the main road. Just keep following it back to Medford and you'll see us.”

“Okay, Kel, hang tight.”

“Alright dude.”