The Greene Farm

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©JRF2016

Everyone except Papá was up and milling around outside. I walked outside to see if there was anything I could do to help before we took off. They were just about ready to head off to meet up with our people. They had left some supplies on the hood of a beige Mustang in case Sophia came back with a note written in white shoe polish telling her to stay here. "Anything I can do, Uncle Daryl?" I asked as I walked up to him. He shook his head, "We are just about to leave. Where's that sorry ass dad of yours?"

"Still asleep," I replied looking back at the RV as Daryl chuckled. Dale fired up the RV and I climbed in. Daryl drove papa's bike since he was still sleeping. If that got left behind we'd be in for a world of shit when he woke up.

We pulled into the driveway of this farm, it was huge and seemingly untouched by this awful plague that has wrecked this world. I sat in awe staring out the window of the RV. "Amazin' huh, punkinhead?" I turned and glared at Papá as Dale let out a little chuckle. I looked over at him and then back at Papá, "Don't call me that. I'm not little anymore." Papá looked down at me and pouted. "Not when other people are around."

"I had a little girl once too," Dale spoke up with that smile of his, "It's a daddy thing, really." Papá put his arm around my shoulders, smiling too. Dale pulled the RV to a stop and we all walked up to this farmhouse. Rick and Lori were standing on the porch watching us. I glanced over at Shane who had his head lowered until he noticed me. He brought his head up and smiled, I didn't.  I noticed Shane had shaved his dark, wavy locks off.  I wasn't so sure about his new look.  We looked at Lori and Rick questioningly. "He's going to be fine," Lori said and Rick added, "Thanks to Shane." He slapped Shane on the back.

A little later we were all gathered for a memorial service for this guy named Otis. Apparently, he was the one that shot Carl and he died on a run with Shane to get the medical supplies to save Carl. An older lady stepped up and asked Shane to say something for Otis. "I can't. I'm not good at this."

"You were the last one with Otis before he died, it would mean a lot." Her eyes filling with tears and pleading silently with Shane. He started his story and told Otis as a hero. Otis fell behind so he could get away and get back to save the kid. Something wasn't setting quite right with his story. No one looked up, no one made any inclination that they felt the same so I stayed quiet. After Shane had finished every one took off in separate directions. I was headed back to the RV when Shane stopped me. "You're still mad at me, huh?" I didn't answer. "Would it help if I told you I've decided to stay?"

"Why?" He cocked his head to the side confused. "Why did you decide to stay now?" He shrugged and then smiled at me. He leaned in closer. His lips almost touching mine. I could feel the heat surging through my body. I wanted to seize those lips in mine so bad but I didn't want him to know that. He whispered against my lips, "You of course." My body was on fire now.

"What the hell is goin' on over here?" Shane jumped back and looked at Papá. He didn't say anything in response but he looked really nervous and turned around walking away. Papá watched him walk away and then turned back to me. "Was he botherin' ya?" I shook my head. It got to me alright but it wasn't a problem per say. I wanted him. I wanted him to bother me, I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him.

Rick was getting people ready to go out searching for Sophia. He had a map out splitting everyone up into pairs. Hershel told him that he wouldn't make it an hour in this heat having just given two pints of blood and he told Shane he couldn't go out because of his ankle. "Guess it's just me then," Uncle Daryl said.

"Naw, baby brother, it's just us." Papá was getting his things and he and Uncle Daryl were headed out.

"I'm coming too," I yelled to them. I grabbed a bag and started out to catch up to them when someone stopped me. I turned to see Lori's scrawny little hand around my arm.

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