Our Wicked Ways •In editing•

Jesus✔

The barn that we were approaching had probably seen better days. years of rain, sleet, baking summers sun and abandonment had taken it's toll. The structure that most likely once kept the weather off the profitable goods and sheltering vans was now more draughty than a railway platform. The roof was probably the worst, pieces were missing, rotten or sticking up at awkward angles. In places a stubborn patch of sun-bleached red paint clung to the wooden sides, but otherwise it was as brown as the rutted mud around it.

I walked around back approaching the door to the shop, my hand lifting to open the door only for it to be yanked away by my dad. His eyes burned into mine for seconds before loud crashes were heard behind the wooden door. Growls and snarls sounded from inside and I knew then that my safety should have come before my curiosity. That seemed to be one of my biggest problems.

"You good?" My dad asked, releasing my wrist from his grip.

Nodding, I walked back to where Daryl was trying desperately to pry open a sealed shutter, my dad offering to help. I slid one of my throwing knives from its holster, preparing for the worst. The shutter flew up abruptly. In a panic, I threw my knife and I watched as it glided through the air heading straight for Daryl's head. Luckily, it had missed by a couple inches sticking out of the back of a truck.

Both of them turned to me, some look on their face. "Sorry." I fretted, "I panicked."

"Hmm." Was all Daryl replied with before examining the truck where my knife had found accommodation. In fact, that's all Daryl ever seemed to reply with nowadays. He removes the knife, handing it to me before opening the shutters to the truck.

As if the gods had listened to my prayer, there it was. Everything we needed right there in the back of that truck. Food, water, sanitary items, laundry. Usually, there'd be a catch to this sort of thing. It was rare now to even go out scavenging and find a single breakfast bar, so this, this was gold.

"Well, would you look at that." My dad smiles looking distantly at all the boxes before him. "Think it's a good idea to take this now, come back for the car later."

I grabbed the duffle bags from the car loading them onto the truck. It was extremely lucky that the truck had three seats in the front so I could fit. We drove a different way back to Alexandria. We thought it'd be better to check out other locations for more supplies and hopefully, I could find Carl a few comics to keep him busy.

"Stop in at this garage." Daryl sits up suddenly, breaking the silence.

As we parked, I decided to wait for them in the truck. I saw no reason to get out when all Daryl wanted was a couple cans of pop. I just observed from the window, watching as the very frustrated man tried to eagerly flip over the vending machine. I laughed quietly, watching his poor attempts from inside the truck. He must have heard me though as he flips me off through the glass, I just stuck my tongue out at him, placing my feet on the dashboard. This was as close as I got to entertainment.

"I need to turn the truck around." My dad sighs, getting in the truck and starting up the engine. Daryl chaining the vending machine to the back of the truck. I hop out, deciding to waste my time in the garage while they sorted that out.

I walk over opening the door, bell ringing above me, waiting for a second, head poked in until I was sure it was safe. It looked the same to every other store or garage I had been to. bare steel shelves, papers and empty boxes scattered over floors, grime and dirt over windows, blocking any sunlight from shining through.

I ambled around, looking for anything that might satisfy my interest but there didn't look like there was much left. It was apparent that this place was raided very early on. I sighed, kicking the papers on the ground only for a small magazine to slide out from underneath. I picked it up realising that it wasn't a magazine at all, but a comic.