In the Sound

I trudged across the grassy fields, legs feeling more tired than usual.

The grass tickled my ankles as I passed them. I squinted at the sun, rolling my sleeves up until they bunched around my elbows. Kit scampered away from us, gliding his nose through the silky grass. He whined every now and again, and gently lifted his bandaged paw whenever he would stop to check in on us. The ragged cloth was almost falling off, revealing a coat soaked with dirt and murky blood.
Not much further.

Rick’s hand never left the holster at his hip. We ambled together, as far as he allowed us to be. My fingers laced around my empty belt, wishing that he hadn’t noticed my knife and taken it off me.
But I knew I would be okay. I knew Kit would be okay. Herschel knew us. He’d tell Rick we were okay.

I glanced to my left at the man. He was smooth, and increasingly calm. The first person I’d seen in weeks had to be this guy. He was a little older than me, I could see that much. I wondered who else was a part of his group. Wondered if they were all like him. Calm. Maybe even handsome.

“You a cop?”

“Used to be,” Rick answered hastily. His eyes were also squinted, glancing further ahead of us and occasionally at Kit. But mostly they glossed over the forest edge that surrounded Herschel’s farm.

“How’d you guess?”

My shoulders shrugged. I shook my collar, trying my best to fan the slightest bit of wind towards my neck. Damn it was hot.

“You’ve got that cop voice. Real calm, smooth-like.”

Rick snickered at that. “You a cop too or somethin’?”

“My Dad was. That’s how I got Kit.”

He bowed his head a little, as though he was very interested in something on his shoes. I knew he wanted to ask about my Dad. I wanted to ask about his. I wanted to ask about his life and his family and what he did before the new world took over. But we just kept quiet, because neither of us were sure if that was the right thing to do.

When we reached the fence, Kit ducked underneath it, scraping his head along the wire. I tucked my foot into the first step of the wire and swung myself up over the rest of the fence. Beside me, I could hear Rick doing the same.

I took a moment to catch my breath and patted at my thighs, trying to wipe off the feeling of rusty wire from my palms.

“How many in your group?”

Rick patted at his own jeans, though a little less frantically than I did. He looked up towards Herschel’s porch, like he expected to see somebody sitting there. He rested his hand back over the holster and trudged onwards towards it. “’bout nine others. When we were camped up near Atlanta we had a larger group. But things happened.”

“Been awhile since I’ve seen a lot of people. Need’a brush up on my people skills,” I snickered awkwardly. Rick only gave a thin smile, making me feel even more mortified than before. “Anyone I need’a look out for?”

Rick smiled wider at this and exhaled a breathy laugh. “My son, Carl. He’ll steal your dog away from you when you’re not looking.”

“Kids?”

“Just the one. My wife, Lori, just wanted the one.” Another breathy laugh escaped his lips as he rubbed his palm across his forehead.

Son. Family. A small smile slipped across my lips. He still had his family. That was a lot more than anybody else in this world had. All I had now was Kit.

The farm was barely far away now. I could almost smell the wood of the old porch. Hear the chickens pecking around their pen. The soft mumble of a group of people towards the back of the house. My heart thudded wildly. We were safe.

I whistled sweetly, patting my thigh a few short times. Kit gawkily came to my hip, nuzzling his nose against me and shaking his ears away from a pesky fly. We waited at the base of the farm, both of us with wonky stances.

“Herschel!” Rick called gruffly. He skipped up onto the porch steps, hands sitting on his hips. When he reached the screen door, he paused, elbow propped against the wall beside it. “Herschel!” He called again.

I leant down to Kit’s eye height, sinking my arms into his shaggy coat. He breathed raggedly into my face, paw slightly hovered above the ground. I rubbed my cheeks against the side of his face. “You did good boy. We made it.”

But Kit didn’t nuzzle me in return. He didn’t peck his nose at me like he normally did. He didn’t lick at my cheek.

Instead, a muffled throaty sound escaped him. I leant back, brows knotted in confusion. Fingers clenching a little tighter into his coat. I fixed on his face, locking a hold onto the sides of his cheeks. Kit’s dark bulbs delved deep into mine, his blinks slow and wary.

Another muffled groan. Lids glazing over. Shutting completely. His legs softening, arching inwards. Dropping onto his belly. His head lulled over. My brows in thick knots. My fingers were wet. I brought them to my nose. Rusty. Blood.

I was cloudier than usual. I opened my mouth to scream but no words. No sound. Just scratching at the back of my throat. Rick’s incessant shouting clanging around my ears, making my head spin. My chocolate bulbs glossed over Kit’s lifeless body.

Wedged neatly into his side was a thin wooden rod. Dirty feathers branched off of its end, spreading out.

An arrow.