The whole ride there was completely awkward and filled to the brim with tension.

Each of us spilled over with guilt. Shane, for letting Carl come with us. Me, for not seeing Otis in time to maybe push Carl out of the way and maybe even take the bullet myself. Otis, obviously, for shooting Carl.

I was actually used to silence. But it was this type of silence that I loathed and tried to avoid with all my will. It was like when you're sitting in a waiting room, and there was a baby crying next you, and you fight every urge not to turn to the parent and demand they shut their baby's tiny, but noisy mouth.

I realise that wasn't exactly silence itself, but it held the same feeling.

It was like I wanted to tell the silence to shut up! Or at least punch it in the face so that it would once learn its place.

It wasn't anything like the long Dixon brother road-trips. With chewy squirrel (and occasionally a snake). Merle sitting on the opposite side of the fire to me and Daryl, telling me cringe-worthy stories about his ex-cell mates. Every story would end up either sounding like complete bullshit, or Merle would twist them in a way only his mind could. Whilst Daryl sat as far away from me as he could, without being out of sight.

Those days, I was allowed to not worry about a thing. Only once in a while would I be given a pinch of responsibility, which even at that time, seemed a bit much.

Now I had to worry about respirators that could hopefully save a little boy's life.

Oh, how times had changed.

Somehow I had this feeling that I would turn to my left and Daryl would be there. One his last cigarettes delicately hanging from his lips, and always resting his elbow on the windowsill, to which the window was open. The short, and greasy hair would somehow move in the wind, but I didn't know how since he never washed it and the Georgian heat didn't help.

The truck we were sitting in was eerily similar to Daryl's uncle's truck. But this was a sky blue colour, whilst the former one held a dirty mustard colour.

Daryl would steal glances at me, and although he was quite observant, I don't think he noticed that In noticed. Most of the time it would make me uncomfortable since I had spent years of my pathetic life with weird men stealing more than a glance and trying to cop a feel. The women, however, were more respectable than them, though. Daryl would do it so often, I eventually didn't care.

I would turn to my right and I would be at my window, with my ugly pillow, eyelids drooping since the boys often woke me up at the crack of dawn.

I adored those car rides. Those were the type of silences I would like.

Unfortunately, I did turn to my left and saw the man that shot Carl. My best friend. My dear young sir.

It was funny that the best friend that I make in this mess was a 12-year-old boy.

I turned to my right and saw Shane. Who seemed to be Carl's best friend. Shane always had this weird explosive vibe to him. Push the wrong button and... Boom! He appeared like a shark who would taunt his prey rather than eating it, just to seem more dominant. Like he had a constant need to be Alpha, but someone who would never admit it just to be humble.

As we pulled up to the high school, it was quite dark out, which already made me feel worried that we were already gone too long.

Otis stopped the truck, wiggling the gear stick as we all sat there for a split second to breathe. But right now there was no time to breathe.

The three of us slid out rather noisily, the springs in the chairs squeaking.

On the bed of the vehicle, I picked up my two guns, opting to put them in the waistband of my jeans, and the black hiker bag's peeling straps on my shoulders.

Sneaking was something I was good at. Placing the balls of your feet in the right positions. From sessions of watching Daryl hunt, I picked up a few things.

I followed Shane, crouched down, towards the high school. What came with it was a dull roar of walker moans. It was the only thing filling my ears.

The three of us knelt against a cop car. Shane and Otis on each side of me, holding their guns upwards.

Shane took a quick look over the height of the car and saw the masses. I didn't see them, but I could tell by the way he quickly ducked back down and looked at us exasperated. I knew from his face that we were in deep trouble.

+

It didn't take long for the sky to turn a dark navy colour. By then, we had mistakingly but thankfully found a box of flares in the back of the cop car.

We all carefully got ready to throw them over our heads to distract the dead. Otis and I held one, whilst Shane held two. We were waiting for the opportune moment to throw them. Shane would signal for when we needed to throw them. I looked down to the bright red stick in my hand. I had never used a flare before, but I remember watching Lost and how they ignited it. So, I was fine.

"Hey," Shane whispered. He tiptoed a bit closer to me, kneeling behind another car. "Just... Marl, stick by me. Promise?"

"I don't need protecting."

"This isn't about protection it's about being smart, okay?" he scolded. I looked to his face, and I realised it was much closer to mine than I wanted it to be. It caught me off guard and the words I was about to say were sucked back into my throat. I could always tell how people felt by their faces, but with Shane at this moment, I caught up on nothing.

"Promise me, Marley."

I gulped inwards. Shane suddenly made me nervous. An emotion I really didn't need at that moment.

"Carl... and Daryl would never forgive me if anything happened to you under my watch."

Why was he saying this to me? Did he think I was stupid enough to wander off into a field of walkers?

"Don't make me regret letting you have those guns. Did you want to prove yourself, right? Prove Daryl and everyone else?"

All I could do was a nod, in return. There was only one other person who made me feel this way when they talked to me. That certain tone he used. Talked down to me, like I was a child. Like I was stupid. Not like Carl, who viewed me as equal. Or Glenn, who talked to me with the most respect anyone had given me. Rick, who talked to me like I could do something good every day.

Daryl... who just confused me. But he talked to me better than this.

There was only one other person who talked to me like the way Shane just did.

And that person was dead.

As Shane whispered, "Now!" I blindly threw it over my head. I reach into my waistband and pulled out one of my guns and held it tightly in my hands.

I had a tight feeling in my chest and the knocking in my head got louder.

I didn't have time for it.

Looking over to the dark haired man, he waved me over towards him and I complied.

Once we saw that there were no walkers facing us, both Shane and I ran over to the FEMA shelter. We luckily made it there without trouble. Otis wasn't far behind us, much slower due to his larger self.

I opened the door quickly, rushing in and holding it open for the two men. I held my hand over my racing heart, taking a moment to catch my breath. It was evident to me then that I was doing something incredibly stupid, on my part.

The two men walked past me into the dark room, going to look for the supplies. I made my breathing normal and followed them. I found that they were already shifting through the shelves and discussing what they needed.

"Marley, give us a hand and get looking," Shane scolded. His harsh tone shocked me and made me jump. I quickly walked over to Shane as he held a torch to the shelves. He took down some cans, keeping the torch between his teeth. He turned to me causing the flashlight to blind me. I put my hand to my eyes. Shane took the light in his hand but kept it pointing at my face. "Get looking for that respirator, and get anything else on the way."

He roughly turned me around, zipping open my bag and putting the heavy canisters in. After he did that, I proceeded to look through the shelves, putting anything that looked the slightest bit useful in my bag.

"Where's the list?" Otis asked from beside me. In the small space, we were all kind of squished together in the dark.

"Oh, yeah," I realised, reaching into my jeans pocket and handing the list to Otis.

He muttered a small thanks then I continued collecting what I could. The bag was getting heavier with all of the items. We may not have even needed any of the things I was collecting, but maybe was something I couldn't think about right then.

Shane stepped to the row of shelves I was searching. This caused me to be stuck between Otis and him.

Otis gasped beside me, and I looked to my side to see him reach up to one of the higher shelves. I couldn't reach them myself. I crouched back down beside me and looked closely at what was in his hand. It was a respirator.

"Endotracheal incubator, baby, for my new respirator."

I smiled at his rejoicement and we all stood up so we could get out of there and go home.

Again being between the two men, and the gun in my hands, they both pointing their torches towards the door. Shane took the handle and quickly opened the door.

Maybe a bit too quickly, because as I looked out and saw the walking corpses turn to us as the flares we had used dulled their brightness behind them. Dinner was served for them. And we were their dinner.

Although the walkers were in our pursuit, Shane led us out of the shelter towards the high school, and away from our enemies. Surviving was new to me. But so far, i seemed to be doing quite well.

We ran as fast as we could down the side of a wall which led to some stairs. The bag of my back was bouncing against my back, the canisters hitting my spine.

All while echoes of snarls came from behind me. I could tell that the three of us were in full panic mode.

Shane was leading me and Otis, taking on the leader role.

He almost got bitten by a walker, but I managed to get there in time and hit it in the face with the butt of my gun. I screamed deeply as I did it. I didn't fully comprehend that I had actually taken one down before Shane was tugging me in the other direction.

I surprised myself with how fast I was running. I was almost taking over Shane. I remembered what had made me run fast earlier. That Carl had been shot. But right then it had been the rush of adrenaline and danger. I only ever got those type of feeling when i felt like someone was following me home. Or when i nearly got hit by a car that one time.

We sprinted down another alley, but on the other end was another time wave of them. They seemed to be emerging from every direction. I didn't think that you could this many of them in one place. Why hadn't they wandered away from the high school in search of food. They were drifters, whilst the ones like we saw on the highway seemed to be... roamers. Roamers and Drifters.

"In here!" Shane ordered us, darting to the entrance of the high school.

I scurried after him, giving a quick look over my shoulder to see that Otis was still there, and he was. Breathing heavily. Like me and Shane but a lot more excessive.

Shane tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He tried going another way, but we were surrounded.

Without giving any warning to Otis and i, he took out his shotgun and shot the glass apart, shattering it. I had to shield my face with my arms to keep any shards from going in my eyes.

I didn't hesitate after the glass cleared and bolted into the entrance. Tripping on the lip of the door, i crawled to the wall and got myself to my feet and turned to see Shane and Otis closing the metal divider. They struggled for a moment, but they got it closed in time for all of the dead to reach it and starting reaching in, grasping the air for their food.

All of three of us stood against the wall, catching our breath as we watched dead eyes glare at us.

I grabbed Shane's arm to the side of me and wrapped my own around his muscle. I leaned into him.

Whilst the boys looked at the walkers before us, I stared at the only thing keeping those doors closed.

A single bolt.