The Long Road Home

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Tessa had a habit of looking people in the eyes when she spoke to them, or when she was spoken to. So as the man took a seat at the table and spoke, tucking a handgun into his belt line, she listened. At his comment about the city, she nodded. She had been up there to take her nephew to the hospital, and it ended up killing the other one. After so many years of looking after these boys and they were suddenly gone. It hurt, but right now with so much going on, it was difficult to let herself feel the loss. Besides, she wasn't one to show the entire world how she was feeling. To cry in front of this man she had barely met, would be or at the very least feel like an unpardonable sin. Growing up, she had been taught and had leaned very quickly that fussing and crying didn't get anyone anything.

Nor did it fix the wrongs that had been done to her. As long as the tears rolled down her cheeks, It only made her feel fragile and weak. So she wouldn't, not now anyways. Not in front of the man. As he finished, she turned and looked out the window on the dead roaming her property. It felt so surreal. Fitting and not so much at the same time. The country woman had never expected this to be the way the world went down. It was straight from one of the new horror flicks she had watched in her time. For a moment, it seemed that her reality had been bent and twisted into the new cruel world that only fictional characters had faced up until now.

But here she was. A real person, facing a seemingly impossible situation. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she looked at the truck. That one wasn't hers. It was her pa's and it had been sitting in that spot for so long she had no clue if it worked or not. Her's she had bottomed out and punctured the gas tank taking a back road home. The truck mixed in with the dead outside was a bit rusted and looked more like an ancient relic than a means of transportation. But if they could get it running then it was better than wandering though an infested forest chalk full of the new predator of the living human. Finally, she looked back to him, her eyes locking with his, and spoke.

"The truck is ma pa's...or was. Mine broke down bringin' ma nephew back from the city on a back road. But...it should still work. Might need a bit a TLC before we can get it rollin' though." she said. "I do have some five gallon jugs we can top off with some water before we leave though. But...them and the plank wood is out in the shed. Outside. Only wood I be havin' in here is the wood for the fire place. Not much left of it though. What is left would be in the livin' room." she said.

"But probably would be best to make due with what we can get to for now. I don't wanna be out there with the dead, travelin' in the dark. The forest is already dangerous enough without them biters wandering around lookin' for their next meal out there. Probably best to wait it out and board up till first light. Maybe clear out enough of the biters to take a look at ma pa's old truck out there?" she said, giving him a questioning look. "And...I need to think about what to do with ma nephew's body. Not gunna let no dead make a meal of him. Least I can do. Shoulda looked after him better."

She got to her feet and looked out the window. It was getting really dark out. If they were going to make an attempt for the water jugs and boards in the shed, it was best to get moving real soon. Looking back to him, she gave him a questioning look.

"So...What you think?" she asked her fellow countryman.
 
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Again, Daryl counted his lucky stars for having run into someone who was practical. He couldn't even fathom how royally screwed the city folks were. Wasn't fair to completely rip on them though. Only reason why he was moving was because of his past. Terrible things often deadened novel terrible things from what he experienced so far. Taking care of himself or his own was all he knew. Even if there were zombies - walkers - shambling about out there. Memories of an old conspiracy theorist who lived out in these woods popped up in his thoughts. He wondered how the old fool was doing. Maybe celebrating with a six pack he figured.

Looking out the window, day light was not on their side. Daryl had no wish whatsoever to be out there with those things when he couldn't see them. Practically speaking, there wasn't a chance in hell they could board up the whole entire house without attracting the dead. Far too many windows, and Daryl wasn't sure they had the nails to keep the boards in place. Plus, the hammering would make so much noise, it'd be like one of those dinner bells for the dead out there.

"I'd be more partial to finding a room and holing up in there till morning. Noise will draw more. Don't know if we can safely get the supplies and such," he said. "Lets wait till tomorrow. You have any rooms we can fortify easily? Don't need boards. Something heavy will do. The water and such should still be out there tomorrow. Just in case, if you got a room overlooking the shed, we'll keep an eye on the goods as well."

Looking back in the direction of the dead kid, Daryl couldn't bring himself to tell Tess to forget about the runt. Hell, if it were his boy, he'd do right and make sure the little one went to meet the maker without any trouble. He'd be damned to leave'em out in the open for the dead or looters to get to. "Point me in the right direction, and I'll start moving stuff and shoring up defenses," he said as he got to his feet. "Why don't you look to your kid, Tess? Sure I can manage on my own. Contrary to what folks think, I'm damn resourceful for a back country dweller."​
 
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