𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒, the walking dead

3.

Just as ross was about to straighten himself out he hears an unfamiliar voice and the cock of a gun- followed by the cocking of two more guns. he immediately ducked behind the car, watching through the dust-covered windows as a bloodied man with a knife for a hand staggered towards the couple.

he couldnt hear much of what they were saying, only briefly hearing that they somehow knew this man. He still didn't know Ross was around, so he slid down under the car because of his severe lack of weapon (other than his switchblade), and the cut on his side he's positive has reopened at this point. Throwing himself into this fight would only get him killed.

He could only hold his breath as he watched the man tackle maggie to the ground, and as they stumbled away together. He was bleeding so much he couldnt tell how long he'd been under the car, even once they'd left his line of sight. he shifted slightly and felt the wetness of blood soaking into his shirt, and sticking into his skin. He was going to die out here unless he got moving.

as he shuffled out from under the car, he saw the supplies had been left behind- meaning ross could at least help the baby if he could get back to the prison. Once he was about to push himself up, he felt the sharp end of what could only be a sword under his chin, his eyes following it up to a woman around Rick's age, with a deep-furrowed brow and covered in guts. fucking guts. As he scans over the woman, he sees her injured leg as well.

they just stared at each other for a solid two minutes, the only sounds being the gasping of ross, contrasting the woman's controlled breathing.

"why didn't you help?" she spoke, low in her throat.

ross slowly raised his hand to show his small switch blade, dropping it on the ground next to him. "i don't have a fucking gun, just my switch blade. and," he pauses, lifting up his bloodied shirt, "i'm kind of fucking bleeding out here."

the woman slowly lowers her sword, her posture defensive. "do you know that man? the one that took your friends?"

"no, i've never-" he pauses, gasping under the pressure and light-headedness of bleeding out and simultaneously being interrogated, "never met him. we live at the prison, but... i just got there, my uh- uncle runs the place basically,"

she puts her sword- katana, now that ross has gotten a good look at it- back in it's holster, and looks down at him again, almost studying him. "What's your name?"

"Ross." He answers, staying as still as possible. the woman had the high ground, both mentally and physically.

She nods, motioning for him to get up. "I'll help you get back, and we'll tell them about merle taking your friends. He's... the place he's taking them is..." she trails off as ross stabilizes himself. "something is very wrong."

ross could only nod, briefly motioning to the bags on the ground. "i need to take them. at least one," he huffs, going to throw one over his shoulder after making sure it had the baby formula in it.

"could you get the car started?" she asks, gesturing to the beat-up vehicle behind them.

ross turns around, tugging the door open and staring at the mess of the car, feeling around in the front seat and coming to the conclusion that the keys were indeed still with glenn.

"no keys," he turns around, his hand still pressed into his bleeding side. "can you hotwire? do we walk? fuck," he hisses, stumbling into the side of the car.

she reaches for him, trying to hold him up, "hey, you need to stay awake and on your feet. we'll find a way to get in a car. My name is michonne, did i tell you that?" she says calmly, supporting him against the car.

he could only nod, keeping himself sane in a series of deep breaths as she tries to start the car, frantically messing with the wires. they'd been standing for who knows how long when walkers began to snarl in the distance.

"michonne, anything?" he watches as she tries various cars, struggling with finding one easy enough to hotwire.

she only shook her head, watching both of their backs for walkers. "we might end up having to walk. not ideal but better than just sitting here."

"I'd just prefer to get going before the dead catch up to us." He mumbles. Michonne approaches him with a grim expression. They were definitely walking.

She pulls him behind a building, into an alleyway with only one open end. "Let me see the wound first. Maybe I can patch it up so you don't completely give out on the way there."

Ross nods and lifts his shirt with a hiss, the gauze over the wound a dark red and folded out of place. "Probably happened when I crawled under the car,"

She only nods and rips a piece of fabric from somewhere off of her outfit, wrapping it around his torso (which was luckily thin enough for such). Ross was still amazed at how much this woman cared. He almost felt as if something was going to go very wrong very soon.

"Don't you need that?" He mumbles, looking at her injured leg. She was trying to act like it wasn't as bad as it looks and wordlessly shakes her head. He helps her walk anyways.

The pair didn't say much else, making off for the prison as Michonne kept an arm close to Ross, in case of emergency. The boy was thin and bleeding heavily, and she was a mother. Of course she's worried.

Ross of course didn't know this, because she was sort of just limping menacingly with a very long sword. The silence between them was broken after a mere twenty or so minutes, when the teenager's curiosity got the best of him.

"Are you gonna kill me?" He says meekly. It makes her head snap up as she catches the boy's eyes.

"No. I wouldn't kill someone for no reason. You're just a kid." Michonne looks over at him with a small glare. "Don't think that means I'll hesitate if you try anything. I don't care if you're sixteen, if you jump at me I will kill you."

"I'm eighteen!" He throws his head back with a groan. Even in the apocalypse he couldn't pass as a normal eighteen year old. "Plus, you're not exactly in good shape either". He motions to her leg.

"You fooled me. Still, I wouldn't kill you. Your friends were just taken to a place called Woodbury."

Ross raises an eyebrow, helping the woman walk. "Woodbury?"

A shake of her head, and her expression completely drops. "I'll explain at the prison, once your people let us in. It's too much."