we all have our demons

He would have rolled her eyes if he had the time. Her laughter was derisive and probably in regard to him saying she could keep her panties on. Sure, it had been flippant to just say that out loud, but he had meant it with the sincerity and the severity the situation itself required. It hadn’t been a joke to him, although now he saw where she had thought it might have been. Even so, she tried to kick him and he couldn’t really blame her at all. He was a stranger to her. And strangers, anymore…couldn’t be trusted blindly.

Just by examining the wound he could tell it had been closed before. He couldn’t tell how she’d ripped it open but she had; perhaps it was the way she pushed on, walking on it without giving it breaks, or perhaps it had been in a fight with someone or…something. Whatever the cause he knew it would take a while to get her back on her feet, theoretically and actually, even after he mended it. “Alright… Take a deep breath if ya can, darlin’… I’m startin’…” He had cleaned his hands with alcohol from his bag, threaded the needle and splashing the same alcohol over her wound. It stung, he knew that from experience. But she never made a sound and that was more than he could ask. She was tougher than she put on, and that was saying something.

He was done before long. He was adept at it. He’d done this a thousand times, in his daily life at work and…sometimes at home for himself, for his sisters, for other people he knew. She didn’t speak until it was all over. His eyes found hers in the dim light of the lantern he’d lit inside his spacious tent. He was thankful now that he’d gotten the more expensive tent for a small family that had been for sale at the local sporting goods store.

“My name is Michael, Michael Monroe.” He began, sure she meant that as to who he was in a less physical sense. More like who he was when no one was looking… “Why I do this and everything else is all tied up in who I am. I used to be an EMT. I was a healer. I took care of people when they couldn’t take care of themselves, in their worst moments, at their worst. I know it can’t always be like that now, but I try to when I can. Keeping a little bit of humanity alive, keeping my humanity alive. There has to be somewhere out there, someday if not right now, where that’s not just a memory.” He smirks a bit, cleaning off his hands from her blood with alcohol soaked gauze. Her wound was covered in packing gauze and rolled gauze, taped in such a way that the stitched wound would still breathe. “So, it’s nice to meet you…?” He paused, as if to ask her name.

She was only half conscious to answer anything that he said to her, which he probably would have been able to tell.  She normally wouldn’t have let anyone call her darling after all.  Not only did it freak her out in general but it was also just grossly wrong when used in reference to her.  By the time he was done and answering her half-baked question, she was looking at him with exhausted, only partly open, in awe eyes.

Her body was humming in that way it did when something horrible had happened to it and you’re brain shut down because it just plain couldn’t deal with it.  Long throat worked, the slender column sucking in and out as she tried to swallow, trying to remain in some kind of control, even if it was just making her tongue and throat work.  Her dark eyebrows drew together as he explained himself, his and his ability to help her, his reasoning for not letting her die, which honestly probably would have been his smartest move.  Mainly because that humanity he talked about had never really existed.  Not that she could argue with him the way she was laying with what he had just done for her.  It was way more human than anything she had seen in a long time….if ever.  

The silence fell in around them as the light barely illuminated anyone or anything inside the tent. The night sounds in the woods around them, outside the barriers of the tent material filtered in; owls hooted softly in the trees and hurried scurrying in the underbrush as small critters ran to a safe place trying to evade the undead shuffling about. The walking dead were more active at night, so he rarely slept well; he preferred to stay to himself and stay quiet at night like this but, it looked like tonight he might not sleep at all.

“M’just worried ‘bout my girls, s’all…” He shakes his head to dispel the thoughts they might be suffering right this very moment. Images conjured of broken bones and bleeding open wounds… “But they’re tough an’ I know they must have made it t’be t’gether in the same place. Did I tell ya Katie was off in California? I don’ know what for… Probably t’be an artist ‘er somethin’…” He looked over at her as they pulled off and she said she had to pee.

The truck finally stopped dead and Michael moved to put it in park. He engaged the parking brake just to make sure if someone tried to hope in and get it going immediately, they’d be stymied by where and how to release the brake. If they were, indeed, staying the night here he’d have to think of a better way to ensure their vehicle would still be here in the morning…

She gripped the ax handle tightly in her left hand and headed toward the RV a couple yards away from the parked truck. “If your sisters are anything like you, they’re just as stubborn.” She glanced all around their surroundings, not wanting anything to surprise them as they tried to determine how safe the campsite was. “I don’t hear anything moving around inside.”

Michael had his hand on his belt, as close to his knife without gripping the handle, just in case a normally friendly person were there who would strike out immediately in defense of their goods and their safe spot, and their lives. He nodded with the talk of his sisters, thanking Alex with a soft smile that said he appreciated the gesture she showed him, reassuring him like that. “Me neither.” He replied to the latter comment, in regard to the RV. “Can’ be too careful, though.” He nods once at her. He was ready.

“Go.” He told her. It was simple and to the point and yet the sound of it didn’t carry like so many other words with more syllables. As soon as she popped the seal on the door with the handle, he regretted everything he’d just said. He hadn’t been ready…

Just then there was definitely the sound of a group of vehicles in the distance. He knew the sound of larger vehicles like trucks because of the rig he drove with his partner as a paramedic/EMT. Those were definitely trucks, economy style that could transport big loads when need be. Even before her behest of possibly getting off the road for a bit, Michael raised a hand up and put his index finger to his lips, making a shushing motion, the other hand waving them forward a bit, more toward him.

Charley’s heart was in her throat. She held her breath, knowing that they couldn’t make any mistakes right now. Their very lives depended on making it to his place and out of immediate danger. She didn’t dare utter a word of protest as he took her hand and she let herself be lead away from the highway.

Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t have ever followed a stranger into the woods, but something about him made her trust him almost immediately. Even with Sam. Her head turned, making sure that Sam was visibly okay. She knew he was still with her on account of the grip he had on her hand, but there was something about seeing him that made her relax. Even if it was only a little bit.

“Keep movin’…c’mon…” He whispered low but forceful back at them. The sounds of the vehicles and the shouts and hollers of some men could now be heard closer behind. That wasn’t reassuring in the slightest, even as they moved off into the brush where sound echoed and carried.

“Vehicle three miles back, engine was still hot!” They could head someone yell. “Gotta be ‘round here somewhere!”

Just then there was definitely the sound of a group of vehicles in the distance. He knew the sound of larger vehicles like trucks because of the rig he drove with his partner as a paramedic/EMT. Those were definitely trucks, economy style that could transport big loads when need be. Even before her behest of possibly getting off the road for a bit, Michael raised a hand up and put his index finger to his lips, making a shushing motion, the other hand waving them forward a bit, more toward him.

“M’just worried ‘bout my girls, s’all…” He shakes his head to dispel the thoughts they might be suffering right this very moment. Images conjured of broken bones and bleeding open wounds… “But they’re tough an’ I know they must have made it t’be t’gether in the same place. Did I tell ya Katie was off in California? I don’ know what for… Probably t’be an artist ‘er somethin’…” He looked over at her as they pulled off and she said she had to pee.

The truck finally stopped dead and Michael moved to put it in park. He engaged the parking brake just to make sure if someone tried to hope in and get it going immediately, they’d be stymied by where and how to release the brake. If they were, indeed, staying the night here he’d have to think of a better way to ensure their vehicle would still be here in the morning…

Just by examining the wound he could tell it had been closed before. He couldn’t tell how she’d ripped it open but she had; perhaps it was the way she pushed on, walking on it without giving it breaks, or perhaps it had been in a fight with someone or…something. Whatever the cause he knew it would take a while to get her back on her feet, theoretically and actually, even after he mended it. “Alright… Take a deep breath if ya can, darlin’… I’m startin’…” He had cleaned his hands with alcohol from his bag, threaded the needle and splashing the same alcohol over her wound. It stung, he knew that from experience. But she never made a sound and that was more than he could ask. She was tougher than she put on, and that was saying something.

He was done before long. He was adept at it. He’d done this a thousand times, in his daily life at work and…sometimes at home for himself, for his sisters, for other people he knew. She didn’t speak until it was all over. His eyes found hers in the dim light of the lantern he’d lit inside his spacious tent. He was thankful now that he’d gotten the more expensive tent for a small family that had been for sale at the local sporting goods store.

On the last day of the civilized world, when everything fell apart and the dissention in the ranks started Michael Monroe headed back to Georgia to find his sisters. They were all he had left in this world that mattered and he was going to find them before they, too, were gone. Yes, it was nearly laughable to think they were still alive out there but… It was still early. Not too much time had passed. He would feel it if they were gone. They were all in the womb together. They were all connected. He would just know… And he didn’t feel anything other than an overwhelming need to get there, to get to them.

His last day in the city he’d stopped by the hospital where he’d been employed. The Emergency unit was a blood bath. Not a single person was left alive there; undead and torn flesh were all that was left. That was a good thing because Michael had taken an oath to protect and save who he could and to do no harm, similar to those promises doctors made. But even he knew there was no helping the infected. If they were infected they were already dead. He’d collected all the supplies he could manage in three large duffel bags: bandages, antibiotics, pain killers, blood thinners and coagulants, tubing and syringes to run IVs, and other essentials he might need to use. He’d also collected his ex-girlfriend in Detective Alex Eames.

They’d dated for the better part of a year. Okay, so they hadn’t actually dated; it was more that they’d had a connection and they’d been something casual, something without a label, and they’d fucked a lot too. It hadn’t been so casual to him but then…that’s likely why they’d split anyway. No one got close to a detective who saw things that Alex had seen and despite his willingness to want someone close to him no one could really get close to him either. He saw a lot of the same horrible things as she did. He picked up the remnants after the detectives left the scene with the living. He took the dead and he took the living, less often the first but the latter, wounded; he would always ferry the wounded like some sort of twisted Angel of Death that just refused to let death take what it was owed. Anyway, he’d found her there and he took her with him because she was and always would be special to him.

The sounds she’d made prior to actually going out had been pitiful. It was a good thing he wasn’t one of those monsters out there, one of the living that took advantage. If he had been, that might well have been an invitation to take advantage of more than just her stuff; as it was he had a rough time ignoring her body as started to take her pants off. Yeah, he could have just cut her pant leg and ripped it back to get to the wound but that was a tad bit rash considering they had to save whatever clothes they could anymore. It wasn’t like you could wash them…at least not easily. “Shhhh…I’m not gon’ rape ya. Ya can keep yer panties on. This ain’t ‘bout that…” And though he ran his hands over her porcelain thighs, down her legs to her calves and the one that was hurt, he didn’t linger; it wasn’t about that. “Yer gon’ need some stitches, darlin’… M’sorry in ‘dvance…”

She was alert pretty quickly after Michael started working. It didn’t help that he didn’t have any real anesthetic to speak of and each pass of the needle and the antiseptic filled her with more pain than the last. He worked as fast as he could, as cleanly as he could; by the time he was done the young woman was fully awake but in shock, as much as he could gather. The pain was a lot to take. Although, he’d only be guessing because she hadn’t actually said anything…

As they walked, Sam hung onto Mike’s hand and that in itself put a smile on the man’s face. It put some extra pep in his step. Nobody could really live when they were too busy surviving day by day; it was nice now to have a moment to enjoy the small things like an innocent’s hand in his adult larger rougher one. Charley’s words were surprising; he knew she wanted to make it up to him for taking care of them and everything but, it really wasn’t necessary and on top of all that…he wasn’t used to it. He’d been on his own for so long…

He stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned back to her as she finished calling to him. “Shhhh! Christ, keep yer voice down!” Michael stage yells at her as he turns on her, taking a step in her direction even as she skips to his side. Her gun is fully lowered now and he doesn’t feel even the slightest lick of fear from her direction. He’s not going to die today; he’d not going to die until he finds his sisters. Even if the journey itself kills him… “First o’ all, don’ skip or run with a gun ‘less ya got the safety on. Shit is dangerous… Ya’ll put yer eye out if nothin’ else… Second, I don’ think the CDC knows what’s goin’ on here. Was an EMT at this here hospital and I don’ even know what this is… And I seen some pretty crazy shit already… I don’ mean to scare ya; I’m just sayin’ what I know to be fact and what I think. Don’ want ya gettin’ yer hopes up either…”

He got to her just as she was passing out from the blood loss and pain. His face was close enough to her that her weak hand met with his broken nearly broken maybe nose, pushing his face to the side a bit more, making him recoil the slightest bit. “Ya’re fuckin’ adamant, aren’t ya? Christ…” He actually snickered a bit, as well as he could through the bloodied nose and draining down his throat, thick tongue. She fell into a deep state of unconsciousness and he immediately picked her up off the ground, carrying her bodily to his tent and laid her inside on his sleeping bag. He looked down at her there, out of it and looking peaceful in the moment, and he smiled slyly once more. “Stay. Good girl.” He chortled, snorting through some coagulated blood. “I’ll be right back.”

Before he left he tied up his belt around her thigh, making it as tight as he dared so as not to cut off all the circulation but to stop the heavy pulse that threatened to bleed her out. He ran back outside and grabbed the bag of his things. He no sooner reached them than sounds in the brush forced him to pull his buck knife. Three came out of the tree line into the clearing together. It looked like maybe they’d been together when they’d been turned; their clothing had the same muddy red clay on it – like some creek bed might have left behind on them – and they were both in the same state of disrepair as far as decay went. “Damn…” He whispered when he saw them. The one was a kid; couldn’t have been anymore than ten years of age…