Aftermath-Fear of Trust

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You've lost count of the days. One thing is for certain: you'll be dead soon.

Brooklyn puts her hand on your forehead and lowers her head. "It'll be alright." You tell her.

"Please stop saying that." She stands up and walks to the other side of the fire. "I can't handle you lying to me right now."

"I'm not." You take your antibiotics for the day. They're not helping much. You're no expert, but you're sure it's because whatever is in your leg is still in it. "Everything will be alright." You lean your head back against a tree. You're exhausted all the time. You can't even move your right leg anymore. It's too swollen and hurts too much. Brooklyn is mostly carrying you now, not just helping you along.

Brooklyn lowers her head to her knees and wraps her arms around it. She's been stressed. You barely talk anymore. You probably won't really talk until after you make it through this... If you make it.

-

You're out of food and only have a little water left. Brooklyn continues to carry you. Neither of you has said anything for hours. You wish you were still at the turbines, everyone still alive and together. You miss them but don't have time to think about it all yet. One day soon, you and Brooklyn will sit down somewhere and talk about it. But for now, you've got to survive.

-

"I'm telling you, I saw lights." As night fell, Brooklyn swears she saw lights.

"It could have been anything." You tell her. It could be nothing, and you don't want her to get her hopes up.

"Or it could be a community." She's likely right. But they could be hostile or not have the ability to treat you.

As you pass through a tree line, you enter a field. At the center of it stands a large wooden wall.

-

No POV...

"Walkers." The guard points out to their partner on the gate. They're new to the community, joining it with a small group of slaves after Salvation fell.

"Where?" The other guard asks. They've been a part of the community for a few months now.

"Straight ahead." They point the walkers out, and the other guard points a floodlight toward them.

"Those are people. More slaves, maybe. I'll go get Linda." The guard is already on the move before the former slave speaks up.

"Hold on." The former slave recognizes them. "They're... gods. Or they used to be."

-

They've got a light on you, and it stays on you. "They haven't shot us yet." You can tell she's already reverting to her old self. You wish she wouldn't get her hopes up so much.

The gate opens when you get closer. The doors swing to the side, pushed by two people on each side. That seems problematic, but you can't help but admit how well-designed it is. They definitely have a capable builder of some sort.

Two people walk out. One is a middle-aged woman, and the other looks like an old man.

"What do you want?" The middle-aged one speaks, and they both stop a few feet from you.

"Please. He's hurt. He needs help." Brooklyn speaks.

"Is he bit?" The woman asks. The old man has started to step forward.

"No. It was... We don't know what it was." She admits it, but anything is better than a bite.

"Shrapnel." The old man speaks as he comes closer. "Were you near one of the explosions?"

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