Antichrist

I stirred and then shot bolt upright. I had somehow made it to a couch in the cabin before or while I had passed out. It was nightfall, and particularly quiet for what I had just experienced. There was a lantern beside me, and a light coming from another room. I knew I couldn't have turned either of those on. Someone was here. There were footsteps coming from behind me. Immediately, I crouched further into the old, mildewed couch and drew my gun- only to see one pointed back at me.

"I'll shoot you I swear to god," I whispered. My breath was heavy.

"What a nice way to thank someone for saving you," a male voice said. We pulled our guns back, and I saw that he was about my age. He was pale and skinny, but still had a fat face, so you could tell he hadn't quite finished puberty yet. His eyes were blue, and is hair was matted to his forehead from sweat. He crossed in front of me and the couch, and I scooted further into the free corner of it. "You were pretty outnumbered out there. I'd hate to see what would have happened had we not found you."

"We? Who the hell are you?" I asked. Blunt, I know, But I really never thought there were more people my age that lasted as long as me. I mean, anything's possible, but this kid was scrawny, squirrelly even. Looked like he couldn't shoot a gun to save his life. The sheriff's hat on his head was way too big, and he looked like he hadn't showered in weeks.

"I, am Carl. Carl Grimes," He offered his hand to me. I just looked at it. He chuckled and walked back toward the lit room. I tightened my grip on the gun and repositioned myself so that I could barely peer over the couch and into it. I felt like the longer I spent there, the more I was in. I could kill him, yeah, but he wasn't alone- or so he claimed to be. I followed him with my gun as he returned with a cup of water and saltines, placing them on the rustic coffee table. He sat across from me on the living room's wooden rocker.

"Go ahead, eat."

I took the water to my lips slowly, keeping my eyes darting between him and the kitchen. The fire from the lantern crackled in the silence, but The dim light was warm on the side of my face. An older man's voice bellowed behind me, getting stuck in the dank air of the cabin.

"Well I'll be damned. You are okay," He said. He knelt down by the lantern and looked up at me. He was pretty strong looking, and had a wildman beard, presumably from all that was going on. His hair was long and curly, and he favored the Carl boy... Probably his uncle or dad or something. He moved the blanket that covered my legs and revealed my cut. He tried touching it.

"Whoa there, old man," I said, pulling on my gun. "Who are you, where did you come from, and why are you trying to touch me."

The man raised both his hands and slowly moved back. He extended his hand to me as well. This time I shook it.

"I'm Rick Grimes, and this here is my boy Carl," he gestured to the boy. "We were out on a run and we saw that you got overrun. We're just trying to help. Have you got a group or something, er, um.."

"Dana," I squeaked. "My name is Dana. And no. It's just me. Only me."

"Well Dana, I really insist that you come with us, so we can get that cut looked at. We have a shelter in a prison about 10 miles out, and we can get you checked out and send you off with some supplies."

They both seemed pretty genuine. Not like the type of serial killer movie father and son. The three of us sat for what seemed like forever before I polished off the saltines and nodded at his proposal. I leapt to my feet and took up my bag, which I had left at the spot I passed out in at the bottom of the door. Rick bought a car around, and Carl put my bags in the trunk of it before helping me into the backseat. I fell asleep again before reaching the destination, but for the first time in forever, I felt safe.