Status: Complete!
Like it Was Before
I Can Barely Breathe
It's been a month, maybe two. I've lost track of time and so has everyone else-it's easy to forget what day it is when you're
spending it fighting for your life. At the moment, we have a reprieve and I'm outside in the fresh air almost enjoying a beautiful day,
discussing mushrooms with Amy and teasing her about the infamous white jeans.
Amy is one of the survivors in the group we'd hooked up with after things in Atlanta had gone to shit.
She is also currently one of my favorite people in the world, bedraggled having just gotten back from scavenging and Lori practically leaps up from her seat on a nearby log all too happy to relieve her. It would almost be suspicious, but I feel Lori's pain: the camp can make you stir crazy. If she hadn't been so quick on the draw I might have been the one heading out for the afternoon.
"Excuse me, miss denim cutoffs," Amy faux-sneers in real time, snapping me from my thoughts.
"Amy, you know I just like to give you shit," I reassure her absent-mindedly, wondering where the hell Shane had gone off to now.
"You packed for a road trip with your sister, not the end of the world as we know it. Me? I have no excuses."
She laughs and throws a twig at me, chasing Shane from my mind as I realize that, crazy as it seems, I'm almost content.
Not settled, not happy by a long shot, but I'm content. And that's enough for now.
"Who do you think that was on the radio?" Amy asks for the hundredth time and the rest of the group is more than ready to chime in with
their opinion. I settle back to listen to the same conversation we've had twenty times over-it's not like we have anything new to
discus. Amy may have been the one to bring it up, but Dale is quickly running the show, steering from our Mystery Man in Atlanta
to the section of our group in Atlanta, worrying over them, their whereabouts.
Eventually Amy starts pacing back and forth near the old man who has temporarily climbed down off of his perch to make yet another repair on the rusty RV he drives.
Sometime during our talk, Lori and Shane have both resurfaced, the former looking flushed and happy as she immediately sets about helping me fold up the laundry on the line before it begins to rain, (I didn't even have to ask for her help, for once) the latter stealthily grabbing my ass and dropping a kiss on the top of my head, murmuring "Hey, S'vannah," and then wondering off to teach Carl how to tie twenty different kinds of knots. I wasn't sure if he'd actually need this skill, but it was good to keep the kids occupied.
I was glad Shane was taking a cue from Lori and just being helpful. "It's cute, don't you think?"
I mention off-handedly to Lori as I snap a sheet. She's been staring at the two of them since Shane sat down. "Hmm?"
"He's good to Carl," Lori nods. "And he's stepped up to lead the rest of the group. I'm proud of him." She's proud of him?
"Attaboy," Shane says to Carl making her grin wider and I'm wondering if I should comment on this or not, her behavior, this hero worship when the CB crackles to life halting everyone in their tracks, myself included, catty remarks forgotten as T-Dog's voice comes over the line, telling us in a cracking voice that they're trapped.
For a long moment no one moves or reacts, stunned and I feel my heart stutter in my chest.
"Well, we'll just go after them," Amy announces, filled with panic, not thinking straight for a moment, bringing on a heated debate-can we risk losing more people? People we've become attached to, grown to love?
Amy, unfortunately, does not see the situation in the same light, and I can't say that I blame her, not with Andrea being one of the people we're about to lose. If it was Shane I would do everything in my power to bring him back to us. I'm trying to talk sense in to her but the idiot I'm in love with won't stop talking over me, resulting in Amy calling him a son of a bitch before storming off.
Granted, he could have handled the situation better, and it would have hurt my heart a lot less had he looked to me instead of Lori for confirmation that he was doing the right thing.
Shane nods, sending after Amy, trailing after her dramatic huff and I'm left there, dazed, squeezing Shane's arm, playing the roll of supportive girlfriend. A roll which, sadly, doesn't seem to be keeping his attention the way it used to.
I'm beginning to wonder if our relationship is going to be yet another thing brought to a screeching halt courtesy of the dead walking when it begins to rain, capping off a perfect afternoon.
spending it fighting for your life. At the moment, we have a reprieve and I'm outside in the fresh air almost enjoying a beautiful day,
discussing mushrooms with Amy and teasing her about the infamous white jeans.
Amy is one of the survivors in the group we'd hooked up with after things in Atlanta had gone to shit.
She is also currently one of my favorite people in the world, bedraggled having just gotten back from scavenging and Lori practically leaps up from her seat on a nearby log all too happy to relieve her. It would almost be suspicious, but I feel Lori's pain: the camp can make you stir crazy. If she hadn't been so quick on the draw I might have been the one heading out for the afternoon.
"Excuse me, miss denim cutoffs," Amy faux-sneers in real time, snapping me from my thoughts.
"Amy, you know I just like to give you shit," I reassure her absent-mindedly, wondering where the hell Shane had gone off to now.
"You packed for a road trip with your sister, not the end of the world as we know it. Me? I have no excuses."
She laughs and throws a twig at me, chasing Shane from my mind as I realize that, crazy as it seems, I'm almost content.
Not settled, not happy by a long shot, but I'm content. And that's enough for now.
"Who do you think that was on the radio?" Amy asks for the hundredth time and the rest of the group is more than ready to chime in with
their opinion. I settle back to listen to the same conversation we've had twenty times over-it's not like we have anything new to
discus. Amy may have been the one to bring it up, but Dale is quickly running the show, steering from our Mystery Man in Atlanta
to the section of our group in Atlanta, worrying over them, their whereabouts.
Eventually Amy starts pacing back and forth near the old man who has temporarily climbed down off of his perch to make yet another repair on the rusty RV he drives.
Sometime during our talk, Lori and Shane have both resurfaced, the former looking flushed and happy as she immediately sets about helping me fold up the laundry on the line before it begins to rain, (I didn't even have to ask for her help, for once) the latter stealthily grabbing my ass and dropping a kiss on the top of my head, murmuring "Hey, S'vannah," and then wondering off to teach Carl how to tie twenty different kinds of knots. I wasn't sure if he'd actually need this skill, but it was good to keep the kids occupied.
I was glad Shane was taking a cue from Lori and just being helpful. "It's cute, don't you think?"
I mention off-handedly to Lori as I snap a sheet. She's been staring at the two of them since Shane sat down. "Hmm?"
"He's good to Carl," Lori nods. "And he's stepped up to lead the rest of the group. I'm proud of him." She's proud of him?
"Attaboy," Shane says to Carl making her grin wider and I'm wondering if I should comment on this or not, her behavior, this hero worship when the CB crackles to life halting everyone in their tracks, myself included, catty remarks forgotten as T-Dog's voice comes over the line, telling us in a cracking voice that they're trapped.
For a long moment no one moves or reacts, stunned and I feel my heart stutter in my chest.
"Well, we'll just go after them," Amy announces, filled with panic, not thinking straight for a moment, bringing on a heated debate-can we risk losing more people? People we've become attached to, grown to love?
Amy, unfortunately, does not see the situation in the same light, and I can't say that I blame her, not with Andrea being one of the people we're about to lose. If it was Shane I would do everything in my power to bring him back to us. I'm trying to talk sense in to her but the idiot I'm in love with won't stop talking over me, resulting in Amy calling him a son of a bitch before storming off.
Granted, he could have handled the situation better, and it would have hurt my heart a lot less had he looked to me instead of Lori for confirmation that he was doing the right thing.
Shane nods, sending after Amy, trailing after her dramatic huff and I'm left there, dazed, squeezing Shane's arm, playing the roll of supportive girlfriend. A roll which, sadly, doesn't seem to be keeping his attention the way it used to.
I'm beginning to wonder if our relationship is going to be yet another thing brought to a screeching halt courtesy of the dead walking when it begins to rain, capping off a perfect afternoon.