Post by Frank Moore on Feb 24, 2017 6:37:55 GMT -5
"You guys get uglier and uglier every day," Frank muttered, looking at the walker that had impaled itself on a spear he'd stuck in the ground as a defense against the dead. This one had it's jaw hanging off at one side, flesh torn down and hanging around it's neck as he could see the remains of it's jaw muscles try to work. It reminded him of a man he'd treated in the ER. He'd tried to commit suicide via shotgun blast to the face. It worked, eventually. Until then, he'd been in complete and utter agony for days. The noises weren't dissimilar, but this one was certainly quieter.
Frank hefted the axe in his hands and brought it down to split another log. It was mid fall by now, and the snow on the mountain was going to be measured in feet as opposed to inches. He needed to make sure he had all of his shit together before the first snow. That meant food and fuel. Water was easy. As long as he could keep the fire going, he could melt snow and purify it to drink. In the next week or two, he'd go find another Elk to kill. Salt it, maybe make a blanket out of it's fur, and he'd be set. Until now...
"Though, I don't get many conversation partners, so I suppose I'll overlook that." he said. Tossing the split logs into a wheeled cart, he set another on the chopping block. "You look familiar." He couldn't remember where he'd seen this man before, but he knew he had. Even down to the blue and black patterned flannel shirt he was wearing. He got the mental image of beef jerky when he thought of the man... And not just because the grey flesh looked like beef jerky either.
Splitting the next log, Frank picked it up the halves and tossed them into the cart. It was almost full. When it was, he'd stack it and then cut one more load before he settled down for the night. But the familiar dead one, that was going to bother him for a while unless he could figure it out. Looking at it, he set the axe down and walked up to it. Getting it's attention and letting it sink further onto the spike, he gave it a wide berth and checked it's back pockets for a wallet. Finding one, he slipped it out and opened it up.
"Richard Metzger..." he muttered, looking at the picture as he moved back to the front so the walker wouldn't get itself off the spear and come for him. Suddenly, the light bulb went on.
"Rick! From the Hilltop store!" Frank exclaimed. "Ah man... I hoped you would have gotten away." he said. Sighing, he looked at what was left of Rick.
"I appreciate the sign you left at the store. 'Take what you need. Be safe.' Simple. I only took a few things." It was stupid, he knew it. But he was starved of human interaction. He needed something. And it was someone he knew, at that...
"I uh... I'm going to kill you now. I can't imagine the hell... This... Is," he said, gesturing to Rick's body and current state. "I can only hope someone does it for me, when it comes," he said. He pulled out the knife at his side, to try and give Rick some dignity, for once in his unlife. Walking up to him, he waved the knife to the side and watched Rick turn his head for it. Snapping a hold of the back of Rick's neck with his left hand, he slipped the knife through Rick's eye socket and into his brain.
Rick went limp, and Frank slipped the corpse back and off the spear. He needed to dig a hole now. Usually, he tossed the bodies over the cliff, down the mountain and into what used to be a farmer's field. But Rick was different. He was connected to Rick. He knew Rick. He couldn't bring himself to do that.
He guessed he'd finish the wood tomorrow.