The Survival

Chapter Thirty-One: Harsh Cold

The wind blew, the harsh cold air stood the bodies of the dead. It took them longer to walk and roam then in regular temperatures. The leaves were gone from the trees, falling to the ground like they would've been picked right back up for spring, but that was never the case. They wore away, wore them selfs down from being blown around and crushed to where they showed holes or were in pieces. They were as dead as the walkers. They were worn and out of touch, losing limbs and clothing torn to shreds by the previous blood dirty hands before. The stares of the living that witness this will probably never be able to have their true selfs restored back, endless this was who they actually were to begin with.

It's been days since the sun had made an appearance with the slowly aching world. The dark clouds make it as if day light never came, it was just dying light if there was a proper word.

Hungry thoughts with empty stomachs never were a good match. It eats away at the mentality of someone and most of the time physical power because that withered power is being chewed apart instead of living human teeth chowing down on some left over squirrel or raccoon, whatever hasn't been scavenged yet.

A large vehicle rumbles through the freezing weather, the exhaust bleeding through the crisp air, it was easy to tell when something hot met the cold.

Months after the affair with Dag and his safe haven, the ones that survived just drove, drove until they needed gas, finding a station and continuing on. They didn't know exactly where they were thinking or wanting to go to, but they made sure it was north, north of where ever they were previously.

The first to show his face from the reflection of the windshield in the Hummer was Bailey. Next to him, Mark, which was quieter then usual, it was better that way. He picked them up after the walkers got wandered away from the house. In the back, Dylan on the right window, Jake on the left and Maddie in the middle. In the extra space in the very back was Rob, Zane, and Grayson. Taking shifts, Rob and Bailey would drive because no one else would try to come up with a better system. They don't talk about that day back at the strong hold, but somehow they managed to break free and gain as much supplies as the place stored. They were fine for the few moments, but surly someone wanted more than the life like this.

"Still don't know where we're going?", Bailey looks back at everyone from the rear view mirror.

"Just keep driving...", Dylan snarls.
Bailey sighs and looks away. Mark finally gets annoyed enough to talk.

"Stop the car!", Mark asks.

Dylan lifts his head off the window and listens for a moment, everyone else tuning in also.

"What?", Bailey is confused.

"Stop the damn Hummer!"

"No, Bailey, don't listen to this prick!", Dylan snaps.

"What did you say to me, faggot?!", Mark turns his head.

"You heard me!"

"Stop the damn Hummer, I'm tired of this shit!", Mark grabs Bailey's wrist.

"Stop Mark, the damn road is slick!", Bailey pulls his arm away.

"Then listen to me goddamn it!", Mark shouts.

"Guys!", Rob tries to come in.

"This isn't your place, so shut-up!", Dylan quiets Rob.

"You don't get to talk to them like that?!", Zane snarls.

"Fuck you, what do you know?", Dylan looks out the window.

From behind him, he sees the reflection of Zane coming over the seat. Dylan turns and before he knew it, his head was bashed in to the window and his vision goes to a blur.