All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 16

I shake my head. “Looks painful.”

“Yeah, it hurts sometimes but it’s okay.” She looks at her reflection in the mirror once I’ve zipped the dress up. Her blue eyes are wide as she examines the back. “This will do for the day.”

I try not to laugh. “You look very pretty,” I say truthfully.

“You wanna see something?” she asks and bolts from the bathroom, bringing back a photo. “This is my mom. Everyone tells me I look like her.” She hands me the frame. It’s a picture of a woman in her early forties, with short black hair and blue eyes like Becca’s. “You do look just like her,” I say. “Where is your mom?”

“She was at work when the disease started. She never made it home, so I don’t know where she is,” she answers, taking the photo from my hands and staring at Sam. “You’re really cute.”

He giggles as he smiles at her, like he knows what she's said. I put him down on the floor, allowing him to run around while attempting to keep an eye on him. Becca follows him around the house and explains what every item is-in elaborate detail- that he chooses to pick up.

“Macy, we finished the grave.” I look up to see Jonah standing a few feet from me. “I figured you would want to help bury your friend, so Eli will watch the kids until we’ve finished.”

Becca immediately objects. “Dad, please, I want to be there for the service too.”

He looks at me expectantly, like it’s my decision. “I think we should all be out there,” I offer. “I think Sasha would like that.”

We wrap her body in a tarp before lowering her into the grave. It takes us just under a few minutes to completely fill the hole, but I’m already sweating from the Georgia heat. Once she’s buried, none of us know what to say. I knew her the longest and even that wasn’t anything over twelve hours. All I say is that she’s with her daughter and she must be the happiest she’s been in a long time. Towards the end of our make-shift service, Becca places a wild flower at the top of the grave.

My minds replays the sight of lowering her body into the grave over and over again. It never stops. I keep reminding myself it’s my fault. It’s my fault she’s buried in the ground. It’s my fault she’s not breathing. My knees start to go weak and once the funeral is over, I take a seat on the wide porch steps to prevent my legs from giving out. Everyone goes inside except for Eli.

This day just keeps getting better.

“Hey,” Eli says, standing directly in front of me. “You wanna go for a walk? Clear your head? I need to check-out a few houses down a couple of blocks for supplies anyways.”

I stare at him. The last place I want to be is somewhere alone with him. But he has a point, it would be nice to leave and focus on something else. Maybe run into a few walkers and get a rush of adrenaline. Anything to take my mind off Sasha.

I check to make sure my knife is in my pocket. “Sure, we can do that.”

“So where are you from, originally?” he asks once we’re out on the street.

“Athens,” I answer. “You?”

“Augusta,” he says, walking too close beside me. “We moved out here when I was eleven and then my mom married Jonah’s dad.”

“You’re step-brothers then?” I widen the distance between us.

“Yeah, we are. I’ve been living with him since I was nineteen.”

“And how old are you now?”

“Twenty-five.” He waits a beat. “You?”

“Twenty-one. I guess I could be twenty-two now.”