Andy's Apple Farm: Oneshots/short-stories

Orphan Black. (1/4.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Andy's Apple Farm (Video Game). I don't own the picture (cover). Or the song.

(qwertuno and SilentReadersMatter)

(Inspired by Clementine and Alvin Junior (AJ) dynamic from Telltale Walking Dead: The final season. Andy is a child in this, around the age of five or six. Peter is a teenager around fifteen years old.)

(Hope you enjoy.)

"So, they're monsters?"

Andy had asked one morning. After Peter pulled the trigger on one trying to bite him, he watched his first kill the day he turned three years old.

After the bad men took me away...

He watched as Peter put the into his hostler whilst mumbling incoherently curses. The older pumpkin man placed left and right, his mind probably racing a thousand miles an hour. He wouldn't been trying to calm them down.

"How do I raise a kid?"
"Shoulda left him..."
"Father or brother.."
"Shit..."

Andy stood idly watching his considered role model having a stressed panic attack. Wondering if he should leave him alone, he turned to walk for when a hand grabbed his wrist. Peter stared at him with a scared, vulnerable emotion the young child couldn't and wouldn't want to place. His brother once told him he was too young to be dealing with these emotion.

"You okay?" Andy asked concerned. "If you don't like...I'll leave. I don't wanna be a burden."

"You aren't a fucking burden." Peter growled, mainly angry at the self-insults. "We just...gotta figure something out. I taught you how to shoot. I won't always be here to care for you, Andy. Aim for the head of them."

They were in a forest next to a little farm. Both presumed to be abandoned as they hadn't seen people in a long time. No creatures except monsters lurking in the dark. Predators waiting to kill their unassuming prey.

The monsters. The walkers. The lurkers. All groups called them different names. Andy nodded in understanding.

"Alright, big brother."

Peter didn't deny the nickname. He briefly smiled fondly (so rare these days), and his ripped glove hand stroked Andy's apple head, passing through the leaf and passing a sensitive area. Andy shivered at the connecting part of his head passing through.

"Don't do that!"

"Shut up, short ass."

Peter dusted off Andy's clothes. Changing from the overalls he used to wear when working on a farm to a black hoodie (blood spots of course landed on it), white pants that couldn't been mistaken for brown, and red trainers Peter recalled a company once called sketchers.

"Remember to put on the next clothes we see." He stood up and looked him up and down. "Old ones starting to stink attracts their scent."

Andy looked at his clothes, then at Peter's more colourful pairings. Green hoodie with a sign of a hand sticking up a middle finger, dark brown pants with the same blood spots, and orange shots with a festive Halloween season sign. His legs were tired. Deciding on a decision, he lifted his arms toward the pumpkin man who liked as if he lost two heads.

"Pick me up."

"No, Andy, it's too dangerous..."

"I'll scream." Andy deadpanned. "I've done it before. I'll do it again."