Surviving The New World (Book Six in the Surviving The Walking Dead Series)

Turning Over A New Leaf

My stomach growled, my body ached, and after accidentally tripping over my bed pan, I smelled like shit. The cellar was so fucking hot, it's no wonder Negan got transferred to Alexandria; I felt like I've lost an entire pants size just from sweating. Where the fuck was everybody?

The cellar door opened and a shadow appeared from the top. I held my breath, hoping to God it was Daryl, Rick, or someone to free me, but I let my breath go as an older man came into view, holding a food tray. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked.

"We haven't met, yet." The man answered. "I'm Earl Sutton."

"Michaela Dixon." I sighed. "Sorry for bein' rude, just fuckin' hot in here, bored out of my goddamn mind—I don't even know why I'm in here."

"Rosita said you stole from the infirmary."

"I took a couple of buds of marijuana, but it was to make hemp oil for Elijah, I didn't take more than I needed and didn't plan on keepin' it all, either. The rest was gonna go back to the infirmary."

"Why did he need it?"

"He has absence seizures...he had a grand mal seizure today."

"Is he okay?"

"He was comin' around a little when I got imprisoned."

"Arrested?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I sighed. "I was just tryin' to help my nephew, get 'em the medicine he needed, and this is what I get."

"Look, I wasn't there when it happened, so I can't say who I believe, but I will say that Rosita hates your guts."

"Thanks for statin' the obvious."

"I just mean that we can't be sure if her side of the story is true or not. When she and the others get back, we'll talk it over and see what needs to be done."

"Get back? Where the fuck did she go?"

"Word got to us that the rain destroyed a bridge. Rosita went to go check it out and be there for the others when they arrive. That was a few hours ago. I was told to keep an eye on you, thought you'd be hungry." Earl motioned towards the food tray.

"Where are the kids?"

"They're upstairs with my wife, Tammy; she loves kids and volunteered to watch them."

"Harper, is she—"

"She's just fine. Trying to breastfeed off of her, but fine. You really should consider weaning her off."

"Thanks, but I'll raise my kid how I want. If food is scarce, she's got a meal."

"Are you gonna breastfeed her until she's in her twenties?"

"No—"

"Then at least consider it. We're doing okay, Michaela, you don't have to panic." Earl slid my tray under the bars; venison stew with a weird slice of bread. "It's zwieback, my wife made it; her mother came here from Germany after being freed from Birkenau, they ate this when she was little." I picked up and took a bite. I expected it to be hard and salty like a hardtack, but instead, it was soft and kind of sweet.

"Well, tell your wife that I said danke (German: thank you)." I softly smiled.

"You speak German?"

"Just the basic shit. English, French, and Spanish is my forte."

"Learn in school?"

"Never made it past elementary school in public school, the rest was catholic school, not sure what grade, but I was seventeen when I left the orphanage. Father Gabriel never made us learn another language, but I liked to read a lot."