Cross Bows
As I live And Breath
There isn’t a geek in sight, think it’s clear to run across this street. Going on a supply run alone is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. But then again, I’m nothing but alone now. My last camp was destroyed by a stronger, meaner group. There was ten of us, now there’s just me. On my own again, as if the first year of the lame brain take over wasn’t hard enough. It’s now a year and six months into since the world has gone to shit. Yea, my group was very short lived. Not long after I got there, it was overrun. It’s like I’m bad luck, or something.
Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Vanity Dean. I just turned 24, it being about June now. I was born in the lovely state of New Jersey. But I lived most of my life here in Georgia. My body is littered with tattoos of various kinds, piercings in my face, all topped off with my blood red hair. My name suites me to say the least. In the end of the world, you’d think the last thing people worried about was how they looked, not me. My back pack has my every day make up in it, and I touch up my hair every chance I get. Why should I look like shit, just because the world does? But, looking past my make up, I can shoot a crossbow and track a deer for miles. It’s how I have survived this long in life as it is. But today, I’m using my trusty bow and arrow, the old school way. All my junk is back at “home”. I use that word so loosely. It’s not a home, it’s an old shack I happened across while tracking a boar.
Pulling my bow up to my face, I pull the string back, hearing the almost silent crackling of the wood. I let the thick string slightly touch my lips, the best aim this way. Slowly, I creep from my hiding place in the bushes, out into the open streets. Making it swiftly across, I reach exactly where I want to be. What looks to be an old pharmacy, but the sign is faded, and the glass is shattered. Even though a sign clearly reads “Take what you need, God bless”, people felt the need to break in. Not a geek in sight, so I lower my bow.
Walking through the isles, I grab the things I need, stuffing them into my bag. Jumping up, I sit on the counter top, pulling out my pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, and inhaling the ever so sweet toxins.
“Glen! Down!!!!” Outside, a thick southern accent yells out of nowhere. Startling me enough to drop my freshly lit cancer stick. This better be good. From the window, I see two men killing a few lame brains. Wait a second, that one looks very familiar. Is that who I think it is? He turns. Holy hell, it is.
“Daryl Dixon as I live and breathe.” I call out once all of the geeks where taken care of. He spins around, crossbow aimed at me. Everything drops simultaneously when his eyes lock mine. “Vanity.” I hear him mutter under his ragged breath. “The one and only.” Smug smile on my face, and I walk toward him. “You know her?!?! You know him?!?!” The smaller guys asks, obviously confused. “Sadly, I’ve known the Dixon brothers since I moved down here.” He slumps his shoulders down, looking back and forth between me and Dixon. Dixon is still standing there, jaw slightly slack. “Oh honey, close that thing before a geek falls in.” His whole structure tenses back up. His eyes started darting around, like they always done when he was nervous.
“I’m Glenn.” The Asian finally says. “It’s so lovely to meet you Glenn. Where did you pick up this white trash?” Motioning to Dixon. Glenn’s eyes grow a little wider, as he sees Dixon’s eyes locked back onto me. Stepping closer to him, I reach up and ruffle his hair, and like always, he shielded away. “It’s ok Glenn. I’ve known Dixon for a very very long time now.” Putting emphases on very.
“Would you like to come back to camp with us?” Glenn asks me, looking me up and down.
“I’d absolutely love to.” Shooting Dixon my evil eyes.
“Ya don’t have to.” Dixon mumbled.
“Oh but honey, you are such a joy to be around!” I cheerily respond.
After my moment, we pile into the green Honda they arrived in. Headlining back to their camp, what could be safety. I assume it’s going to be a long ride, so I start zoning out, to the first time met the Dixon brothers.
Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Vanity Dean. I just turned 24, it being about June now. I was born in the lovely state of New Jersey. But I lived most of my life here in Georgia. My body is littered with tattoos of various kinds, piercings in my face, all topped off with my blood red hair. My name suites me to say the least. In the end of the world, you’d think the last thing people worried about was how they looked, not me. My back pack has my every day make up in it, and I touch up my hair every chance I get. Why should I look like shit, just because the world does? But, looking past my make up, I can shoot a crossbow and track a deer for miles. It’s how I have survived this long in life as it is. But today, I’m using my trusty bow and arrow, the old school way. All my junk is back at “home”. I use that word so loosely. It’s not a home, it’s an old shack I happened across while tracking a boar.
Pulling my bow up to my face, I pull the string back, hearing the almost silent crackling of the wood. I let the thick string slightly touch my lips, the best aim this way. Slowly, I creep from my hiding place in the bushes, out into the open streets. Making it swiftly across, I reach exactly where I want to be. What looks to be an old pharmacy, but the sign is faded, and the glass is shattered. Even though a sign clearly reads “Take what you need, God bless”, people felt the need to break in. Not a geek in sight, so I lower my bow.
Walking through the isles, I grab the things I need, stuffing them into my bag. Jumping up, I sit on the counter top, pulling out my pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, and inhaling the ever so sweet toxins.
“Glen! Down!!!!” Outside, a thick southern accent yells out of nowhere. Startling me enough to drop my freshly lit cancer stick. This better be good. From the window, I see two men killing a few lame brains. Wait a second, that one looks very familiar. Is that who I think it is? He turns. Holy hell, it is.
“Daryl Dixon as I live and breathe.” I call out once all of the geeks where taken care of. He spins around, crossbow aimed at me. Everything drops simultaneously when his eyes lock mine. “Vanity.” I hear him mutter under his ragged breath. “The one and only.” Smug smile on my face, and I walk toward him. “You know her?!?! You know him?!?!” The smaller guys asks, obviously confused. “Sadly, I’ve known the Dixon brothers since I moved down here.” He slumps his shoulders down, looking back and forth between me and Dixon. Dixon is still standing there, jaw slightly slack. “Oh honey, close that thing before a geek falls in.” His whole structure tenses back up. His eyes started darting around, like they always done when he was nervous.
“I’m Glenn.” The Asian finally says. “It’s so lovely to meet you Glenn. Where did you pick up this white trash?” Motioning to Dixon. Glenn’s eyes grow a little wider, as he sees Dixon’s eyes locked back onto me. Stepping closer to him, I reach up and ruffle his hair, and like always, he shielded away. “It’s ok Glenn. I’ve known Dixon for a very very long time now.” Putting emphases on very.
“Would you like to come back to camp with us?” Glenn asks me, looking me up and down.
“I’d absolutely love to.” Shooting Dixon my evil eyes.
“Ya don’t have to.” Dixon mumbled.
“Oh but honey, you are such a joy to be around!” I cheerily respond.
After my moment, we pile into the green Honda they arrived in. Headlining back to their camp, what could be safety. I assume it’s going to be a long ride, so I start zoning out, to the first time met the Dixon brothers.