Is This Real? (Nick Clark X OC) Fear The Walking Dead

On My Way Out

          "I know. Trust me, I would prefer not talking to him." He leaves the tent and heads back to the adobe. On the way to the small renovated house, he sees Otto and a group of men throwing the dead militia men into a large burial hole. He stumbles around it, taking the sight in. That's why Frankie must have been so afraid. She seemed so scared of me dying.

         He makes his way up to the adobe and steps inside. He pauses and stands over the floorboard with the three bullet holes left in it. That's where Jeremiah shot the ground three times. The night he scared Frankie half to death. He squeezes his fists shut in anger, remembering. He takes the hammer on the ground nearby and plunges it into the wood, splitting it into pieces.

         "Nick? Nick, what are you doing?" Frankie asks in a gravelly voice, stepping inside the home. She's obviously still half asleep, with her eyes almost shut and her bad posture.

         "I thought you said we shouldn't see each other anymore." He hollowly reminds her. He doesn't make eye contact and continues to swing the hammer in the floor. There's a tinge of betrayal in his tone. The objects sitting around the area shake with each hit.

        "Not until you're better. You need to recover first, I need to make sure you're okay—" Her sentence is quickly cut off by her own legs giving out from under her. She catches herself with both her palms, and lands a foot away from Nick. He immediately sets his hammer down and brings his attention to her.

         "Woah, woah, slow down. Take it easy, take it easy." He puts one of her arms over his shoulder, and wraps one of his around her waist, to support her weight. He slowly guides her to the nearby bed. She flops down on it, her body going limp. "You need to rest Frankie." He orders her then goes back to opening the floor up.

        "What the hell are you doing?" She repeats her previous question, now from the bed. Her eyes wander along the ceiling. Many scratches are indented into the paint. She laughs for a moment, reminded of her old room back in California.

       "What I can." He gets rid of the hammer and uses his hands to pry up the wood. "Remember when Otto shot the ground? He said afterwards, after you left, started mumbling to himself, that there was blood in it. In the earth." Frankie rolls onto her side.

        "Yeah, he's probably just rambling about something from his past." She mumbles into a pillow. He still manages to hear her.

        "Exactly. We might be able to use it." He takes a nearby shovel and plunges it into the dirt below him. She can hear him scoop up some rocks with it and unload them into a pile on the floor. The sounds around her are starting to fade, with her eyelids gently closing. Dreams—-No, nightmares fill her head.

        Then she jolts herself awake, bolting upright. Her breathing is rapid and unsteady. It may have felt like she was asleep for just a couple seconds but nearly ten minutes had gone by. Nick rushes over to her and grabs both of her shoulders.

       "Hey, what's going on with you? Are you alright?" He sits next to her. She leans into him and starts to pass out again. Sweat drips down her forehead.

       "Blood, that's too much blood." Is all she chokes out, then fully falls into his lap, unconscious.

—----------------------------------------------------

The next day (Frankie's POV)

        Frankie's eyes slowly open to reveal the remaining darkness still surrounding her. She assumes she's only slept a couple hours, but it's been around twenty. She sits up, slightly dizzy, taking in the empty but lit house around her. Glancing back at the bed, she can see the dried puddle of sweat stained left in the sheets.