Chapter Text
"Georgia heat was bad before the world ended, but it has to be at least 115 degrees right now. Do you think the rampant death and destruction had an affect on global warming?" My voice echoed gently against the rocks of the quarry as I twirled a lock of chestnut hair between my fingers.
Amy was similarly fidgeting with a loose string on her stark white jeans. "That wasn't my major, so I don't really know." She squinted. "Isn't overpopulation what triggered rising temperatures in the first place? You'd think it'd be cooler, since a bunch of people died. Honestly, I never really paid attention in environmental science— my professor was a major babe."
"Amy you are so gross!" For the first time in days, I laughed, and slammed my head down in between my knees that were pulled close to my chest. It was a warm and wonderful feeling that Amy was always been able to wrangle out of me at the worst of times.
"Uh huh! You're one to talk! Don't you have a thing for older guys?" She nudged me suggestively.
Lifting my head to meet her gaze, I responded. "I guess I do prefer them at least a little older. There's something sexy about a little silver, no?" I laughed, again, and reveled in the action. "I'm mostly kidding, but guys my age aren't exactly my taste. You remember the last idiot I went on a date with?"
"Ew, Travis?" Her expression soured as she spit out his name. "He was such a tool."
I smirked. "Exactly. He thought the earth was flat, my Blackberry was a listening device, and that it was financially responsible to share a bank account with his mother."
"Gross. Was he really the same age as you?" She asked.
"Yes! We were, and still are, 21. It was unbelievable. After the worst date of my life, he offered to drive me home… then started lowering the backseat. Amy, he expected me to sleep with him, and he didn't even pay for dinner."
"Maybe he was worried his mother would read the bank statement." It was her turn to laugh as I recounted the horrors. "I recall you swearing off of dating after that, actually."
I nodded. "At least until I'm out of school. See, an older man would never expect so much after giving so little. They know the value of a woman's time." I was laying it on rather thick, but there was some honesty beneath it all.
Slowly, her smile dropped. "I guess we're sort of out of school now, right?"
I frowned, but kept my mouth shut—because nothing I could say would fix that.
"Elle, Do you ever think we'll be able to go back?" Her eyes painted a lovely picture of signature Amy innocence. My nickname rolled warmly off her tongue.
Amy had high hopes to become a P.E. teacher with her major in kinesiology. It could not be more dissimilar to my choice of English, but we bonded swiftly during orientation nonetheless.
It became even more clear after rooming together that we were two opposite but equal puzzle pieces, and it was like we had known each other forever. That familiarity often meant that she could read me like a book, though, and she was disturbingly skilled at catching me in a lie.
I hesitated before I spoke. "I hope so. I was only 14 credits away from graduating!"
I tried to keep the tone light, but I sincerely doubted there would be a return to normalcy. The explosives that decimated Atlanta marked a point of no return— even more so than the corpses walking around.
Amy did not miss my hesitation.
She sighed. "You would've been a wonderful author." She rubbed her hand on my back as she spoke. My top was damp with sweat, but I'm positive that we stopped caring about grime roughly 59 days ago.
"Thanks Ames." My voice was resigned, and we both looked out toward the still body of water.
I told Shane we would go foraging by the treeline, but Dale slipped us a tattered little beach towel and told us to 'go get a tan' while the sun was high. After a brief but useless bout of protesting, he said that college kids deserve to have fun sometimes.
There was a lull in the conversation, and Amy hummed.
"Well… we got plenty of older guys to choose from here at camp. Since you are technically out of school now, is that something you can entertain?" She laughed.
I stared at her incredulously and let out a sharp breath. "Entertain? This conversation is so not happening right now."
"Come on! Indulge me. Who do you think is cutest here?" She pressed.
I hastily moved to get up as she grabbed my arm.
"Please!" She whined. "There is nothing to do here except forage, fish, and do laundry. I am so bored. Andrea is no fun, and she wont play this game with me."
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, despite my displeasure with the inquest. I have always had a weakness for denying her childlike whims. Chronically naive as she was, her positivity was contagious.
"Okay, I'll bite." I started. "But you have to go first."
It was almost hilarious, the way she didn't even seem phased by the bargain. She was clearly satisfied that's all it took to get me to play. "Hmm. I think Shane is pretty cute, don't you?" She nudged my shoulder with her own.
I scoffed. "I don't know if you've noticed, but Shane seems particularly preoccupied these days. I'm pretty sure he's busy looking at— wait, you already asked Andrea about this? What did she say?" I curiously raised an eyebrow.
Amy whined, "I told you, she wouldn't play with me! Not even after I pulled the birth-week card. Don't change the topic! It's your turn. Come on, you spend so much time looking at everyone while you're up there with Dale, I know you have opinions on this."
I looked back towards the lake and thought about my options. She was right, I spent ample time observing the crowd. Even though I was trained with guns, I knew the strongest weapon lay in my own mind. Thinking, watching, and listening was how I sharpened that weapon as if it were steel.
Occasionally it served as a detriment to me, as it often meant my mind drifted during lectures. Once, I was so focused on the girl in front of me texting her drug dealer, that I flunked a test over the material the next week. I still know little to nothing about multi-variable functions, but I do know everywhere I shouldn't hang around on campus after dark.
"Well, to answer you, Shane's not my thing, I'm not into cops." I decided to keep the other suspicions to myself, since Amy didn't seem to latch onto them.
Amy made a theatrical mock arrest gesture behind her back. "Oh officer! I've been so bad. Please don't arrest me!"
I snorted at the dramatics. "You are so weird, Amy! We're lucky you never got caught for all those fake ID's, You would've been stripping in the cell!"
She wiped the sweat from her brow, and giggled. "Okay, who else then?"
"There's Ed, who's obviously despicable." I shuddered. "Then Morales, who couldn't be more boring if he tried— I don't think I've ever heard that guy talk about anything other than his wife and kid. Merle is also off the table, clearly. His chances were ruined the first time he opened his mouth and called me a "little bitch."
Amy furrowed her brows. "You're only talking about the gross ones on purpose! Get to the good stuff. What about Merle's brother?"
Instinctively, I turned my head away to avert her gaze. "I don't know. What about him?"
I realized my mistake too late.
Her mouth fell open and she craned her neck trying to see my face. "Oh my god, are you blushing?"
"What is wrong with you? No, I'm not." Though denial so easily left my lips, heat spread across my cheeks at the thought of the youngest Dixon brother.
"You totally are!" She grabbed my shoulders and made me look her in the face. "Is that who you watch all day up on that R.V.?" Her smile was saccharine.
He was, in fact, who I watched all day up on that R.V.— when he bothered to hang around camp. I was also keenly aware of his expected return at the end of the day.
"No."
"Liar."
I sat up. "You know, we should really get something to bring back to camp. Lori will throw a fit about our lollygagging if we come back empty handed."
Amy snorted, obviously aware that she had struck gold by bringing up Daryl. Rising from the towel, she said, "First of all, I'm sure Dale already warned her. Second, you can't be serious! He's no better than his brother! You're educated and beautiful, he probably didn't finish high school. What's the appeal? Is it those big arms?"
I whipped my head in her direction. "You are so classist! He's just as smart as any of the rest of those men up there, and does twice as much for us. You don't get it, he—" I realized I was further implicating myself by rushing to his defense, so I stopped abruptly.
"You are so into him!" She clapped her hands together gleefully.
I rolled my eyes and bit back a snide remark. "Help me roll up the towel, we have food to look for." I adjusted the gun in my back pocket, and bent down to grab the corners of the towel. The cool barrel brushed up against the back and made me shiver.
"We are so not done with this conversation," she started, as she grabbed the opposite ends. "and you can tell me later all the things you like about him." Our bodies met as the towel folded in half.
"Nice try." I remarked, a little breathless. It was alarming how quickly the truth had unraveled.
As we finished up, a loud snap could be heard in the brush surrounding the quarry. My stomach sank, thinking about who could've overheard. It completely eluded me that the sound could've been made by the dead until I looked over at Amy, tense— it is so like me to worry first about my own humiliation, rather than my delicate mortality.
Sweet, youthful, stupidity. Perhaps I was more like Amy than I thought.
I wondered if I was too youthful and stupid for Daryl to bother watching. I was so frequently referred to as a child by the other members of our group that I would not be surprised if he thought equally as little of me.
Amy stood eerily still, squinting into the distance. "C'mon, let's get out of here, Andrea should be back from Atlanta soon. I want to wait up for her."
I couldn't help but look out into the brush again as we made our way to camp. I could've sworn I saw a figure standing there, looking right back at me. What was the worse alternative? That figure being him, or that figure being something that could rip the skin off my bones?
Deep in my chest, I knew the answer.
So, on deaf ears, I prayed it was a rotter as we walked back to camp.