One Last Whisper [c.g]

[3]

This time I'm in the passengers seat, tapping my fingers against the window, as we continue down the roads.
I should be watching where we drive and mesmerising the streets but I can't stop thinking about the way things were before. I do that a lot now. When the silence is strong, it seems like it's the only thing my brain can ever concentrate on. What once was...

I miss my mom, I use to hate her before this. I hated how she wouldn't let me go to parties, silly things like that. Now I'd kill to stay home with her instead of a party. I'd kill to wrap my arms around her and give her one last hug. I'd kill to be back to the way things were.

Hockey is also quiet. He's probably sorting things out in his head. Back before all this started, he was a latch key kid. Nobody really recognised him to be smart. I know just how smart he really is. Ever since I met Hockey, it's been something to take note of. He recognises everything. From the moment he lays eyes on someone he tries to suss them out, figure out who they are and what they do. He had a talent for always being on the ball and two steps ahead of his competitor.

"I miss it." He says, noticing me looking at him.
"Miss what?" I ask, confused.
"The traffic...or how the world was never quiet. You could always hear cars or the crash of waves, there was never complete silence. I miss it all." He gulps and I recognize the sadness in his eyes.

"I miss long car trips with my family." I tell him, my voice cracking at the beginning of my sentence. "We always had them. One weekend dad would tell us we were going on an adventure, which normally resulted in a million wrong turns...but I miss laughing with them..." I can't cry, because then I let the walkers win, I let the douche who started all this win. Even though I can't cry, I want too.

It takes a little while before we see the bodies, sprawled out on the ground. The walkers we killed when we left Ron and Sissy.
"Just turn to the right." I tell Hockey, not looking out the front window, my attention at the back window.
Hockey turns the car to the right and we see the truck, covered in torn flesh and blood.

Hockey, Butch and I leave the new truck, sprinting to our truck. Inside is more bloody that I can remember. That, and it's empty.
"Where the hell are they?" I exclaim, my voice stern and worried. Hockey looks around frantically.
"How would I know?!?!" He shouts, clearly frustrated.
"So they're gone." I sigh. "Just gone"
I take in a deep breath as tears prickle the corners of my eyes. I was more upset with myself for leaving Sissy and Ron alone then anyone else. They weren't strong enough to deal with whatever the world could throw at them.

I was crying. Here I stood, letting the walkers win.
I double down, exhausted and hurting.
"I'm going looking for them," I pant, taking in deep breaths.
Hockey rolls his eyes.
"Are you completely and utterly out of your mind?" He yells.
"You take Butch and the car. You go somewhere safe, I will be okay." I announce, standing straight.
Hockey's face goes bright red with anger.
"I cant lose you Y/n. I love you." he whispers, his voice lacking any emotion.
The way he says is more blackmail than true love. Plus, I'm way too stressed to return the words.
"Hockey, please." I murmur, avoiding eye contact. "We have to try to find them."
"No we don't. We don't have a clue where they are. They could have gone off to find some food or something?"
I shake my head. "They were attacked. They had to have been. Look at all this blood. If they're in danger we have to find them."
He scoffs. "The answer is no, Y/n."
I could scream with anger.
"I'm going without you then."
"You can't." He protests.
"You can't stop me?" Well...he could...but I can't let him know that. Hockey isn't looking at me. He's mad and to be completely honest, I don't blame him.
"Fine." He finally says, taking in a deep breath. "But you've got to take Butch. I know he'll take care of you."
I shake my head. I understand his aggravations- but stupid idiotic decisions were my bad habit. I don't make decisions with my head- I make them with my heart.
"I'm going by myself." I let one more tear come out of my eye and then look up at him. The tear trails down my cheek, tickling slightly.
I step forward, standing on my tippy toes and placing a kiss on Hockey's cheek. Then I give him one last embrace.

"You're a good person Y/n." He forces a smile. "Good luck."
I walk away slowly, as Hockey and Butch enter the car.

I begin the long journey by myself, walking up the roads we once drove down.
Minutes fly by as my feet pat along the path, kicking rocks as I go. Time whirls around me like it's nothing but an essence, and I am just an item in its orbit. Everything inside feels empty. I shouldn't have left Hockey but he was strong. He could look after himself. Ron and Sissy? They weren't the best survivors. I'd found myself saving their asses more times then not. They needed help and Hockey was wrong to question that.
And then, to say he loved me? We'd been through a lot. Known each other since the beginning too. There'd always be a bit of romance between us- but that was just teenager stuff. Kid feelings. There was too much out in this world to be found- love wasn't a card to play until the time was right.

I find myself trudging along the footpath silently for an hour or so, shoulders sagging and a downcast look on my face.
After a while, I pass the house Hockey, Butch and I stayed at.
I keep walking, pushing aside any thought to go back for Hockey. I couldn't try and persuade him to look with me. I knew Hockey- and he never second guessed himself.

Further up the path a sign comes in view.
It reads: 'Steer Clear Juliet'
It's written in blood. Hmm. It's grotesque, the sight of such a gruesome sign...though it did nothing to my feelings. This world had hardened me. Think nothing of it.

I ignore the sign and keep going.
When I turn the corner I instantly regret it.

In front of me, kneeling down and gorging their faces is a group of walkers. Three or four? They're engulfing some soft of carcass in front of them.
My heart starts racing.
I need to see what it is.
I need to know that it's not Ron or Sissy.

I pull out my gun and point it at the first one, squeezing the trigger and jumping at the bang. The other two turn their attention away from their food and limp towards me. Slowly, I step forward, my breath hitching as I point my gun at them. Two gunshots later and they're both dead on the ground.
I squint my eyes, trying to see what they've been eating.

I breath a sigh of relief as my eyes land on the carcass. It's not Ron and it's not Sissy. It's a dog, torn and shredded. Poor puppy.

That's it. No time to dwell. I work up the nerve to keep going straight, turning the corner and pushing forward into the street. I instantly stop in my tracks, recognising my mistake. The gunshots. The sound must have drawn more walkers my way- because in front of me, drooling, were a dozen geeks.
It's a huge group of them. The size of walkers that tore my camp apart, in fact.

I haven't got enough ammo and I can't take them on myself, so I run.
All I can do is run.