Love Bites ~ Craig of the Dead au ~ Tricia x Karen fan fiction [COMPLETE]

3

"Have they seen you?" I ask.

"Um, yeah. He has." Karen awkwardly shifts her weight around.

"Ruby, was it?" A blond man suddenly appears at the top of the ladder, looking down at us with a cocky grin on his face, "we've been looking for you."

He beckons for us to climb the rest of the way up.
Karen looks down at me for instructions. Hesitantly, I look down at the ground. More people are surrounding the area and they've broken into the car where our big weapons are.

"Carry on. Let's just see what he wants." I tell her.

She nods, then starts to continue climbing. It doesn't take us long to reach the top since we were already almost there.

"Good girls. You made the right choice." The man smiles.

He's sat on the floor, with a notebook that's seen better days and a map laid out in front of him. A sniper rifle has been discarded behind him.
The map has several annotations in random coloured pens and pencils, as well as large X's scribbled over certain locations. The edges are torn, the paper is creased and I'm pretty sure it isn't even a map of Colorado.

"Take a seat."

It's now I notice he has a strange accent. He's definitely not from around here.

Awkwardly, I sit on the rusty metal floor in front of his map. Karen squeezes beside me and the wall.

"So who are you exactly?" I ask, folding my arms.

"I'm The London Eye!" He suddenly jumps to his feet and grabs the sniper rifle to pull some weird pose, "the famous one-shot killer."

"Um. Who?" Karen tips her head to the side a little.

He gives us a confused look, lowering his rifle slightly.

"Y-you haven't heard of me?" He asks, disheartened.

"No. Not at all." I shake my head.

He drops the sniper rifle and drops back to the floor, looking sort of hurt.

"Do you have an actual name or just... a stupid nickname?" I ask, "because we need to get going."

"Gregory," he answers with his irritating cocky grin, "and yours?"

"I'm Ruby. This is Carmen." I answer flatly.

"My my," his grin seems to get bigger as he leans closer in, "we have been looking for the two of you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Karen's hand is inching towards her quiver.

"Hey hey! No need to get violent," Gregory says, backing up a little, "we've been receiving your help signal on the radio, but the answer button on ours is broken so we couldn't send a response."

He hands the notebook to me.
Curious, I start flicking through some of the pages. They're all full of things Karen and I have said on the radio, asking for help.

"He's legit." I pass Karen the notebook.

Gregory waits patiently as Karen slowly reads through his book. She snaps the book shut and hands it back to him.

"So, you want to get out of Colorado?" He asks.

"Yep." I respond.

"We can do that. Can I just ask why?"

I don't want to give him the real reason. It's too personal and he could fuck up our plans somehow.

"My parents had a summer cabin in Texas. I thought we could move down there." I lie, knowing Texas is one of the most zombie-ridden areas in America.

Gregory gives me a suspicious look and I try my hardest to keep a blank expression.

"Okay, we'll help you," he says, to my surprise, "but we can't actually get you to Texas. That's too dangerous."

"I just need to get as close as possible. Even if you can only get us out of Denver, you'll still be a big help."

He picks up his notebook and takes a pen out of his pocket, then scribbles something down on one of the pages. He rips the page out and hands it to me.

"I have a contact who lives in Oklahoma. If we bring you two there he'll take you to Texas. Here's the directions in case we get separated," he explains, "he's immune and has no fear of death, so if you have to leave him behind you have to do it."

"Thanks, Gregory." Karen smiles.

"Anytime, gorgeous." He winks.

I stick the notebook paper in my pocket and start heading for the ladder. When I look down at the ground, the people who were previously breaking into our car are now counting the stones in the glovebox and eyeing my shotgun enviously.

I slide down the ladder instead of climbing it - something Karen always begs me not to do - and walk over to the car.

"Hey, d'you mind not touching my stuff?" I ask, straightening my back to try and look taller.

One of the people, a tall guy with a crooked nose and black hair who's leaning on the car, looks me up and down then gives a small laugh.

While I have to admit a five foot, eight year old looking girl is not intimidating in the slightest, it still makes me clench my fists in anger when people judge my toughness based on my appearance.

"I'll punch your face so hard I'll straighten your fucking nose." I snarl.

With a sigh, the guy lifts himself off the car and stands in front of me. And my god is he tall.

"You wanna say that again?" He asks.

"I'll punch your face so hard I'll straighten your fucking nose." I repeat, staring him dead in the eyes.

"A kid like you wouldn't even dare. I could crush your skull with my bare hands." He says casually, like killing me would mean nothing to him.

A second later, he drops to his knees and clutches his hip whilst blood seeps through his fingers.

"What the fuck?" He curses.

People start looking over. Not good.

"What's going on here?" A somewhat familiar voice asks, "Michael, what did she do?"

"She fucking stabbed me!" He lifts his hand to reveal a small but deep wound.

I wipe my blade on his sleeve and stick it back in my pocket.

Karen, having finally climbed down the ladder, runs to my side. She looks concerned.

"What did you do?" She hisses.

"I taught this fuck-wad a lesson," I glare at Michael, who is trying his hardest to keep blood off his black skinny jeans which are not at all practical in our situation, "and I'll do it again if he even thinks of pissing me off."

"You're going to get us into trouble!" Karen grabs me by the shoulders and turns me away from Michael, "there are more of them than us and I am not prepared to lose you."

My eyes drift behind her and I freeze.

"What? What's wrong?" Karen panics, "is there a zombie?"

"Hey! You're the two girls from yesterday!" Mark, the voice I heard earlier, shouts, "these are the girls that stole our food."