THICK SKULL , twd [ 1 ]

29. her little mouse

         

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NELLIE HAWTHORNE HAS NEVER been a jumpy person. She'd never flinch at horror movies, she never freaked out when her parents dragged her to those cheap haunted houses during Halloween. Nellie would laugh when a scare actor jumped out at her, laughing when she fails to scream and they look disappointed even under their clown makeup.

       But she'd be lying if she said she wasn't on edge since Zach's death. Ever motion is closer to death. Every breath could be her last one.

The old garage they're in creaks with every step they take, the walls feel like they're shaking and......it smells like death.

                 But what doesn't when that's what fills the Earth now?

               "Look," Daryl gestures to the old car battery in the corner of the room. Nellie carefully approaches him, boots skimming the dirty pavement floor. Her chocolate eyes bounce around everywhere, noticing every shadow of a moving branch from the shutters. "Cells look pretty dry," Bob says, gaining her attention. "What's that mean?" The teen girl asks. Daryl clicks his tongue, "Ain't nothin' to worry about. Just need some distilled water," He dismisses.

           Nellie nods as if she understands and then the three start to look around for anything else that's useful. She turns carefully and immediately, Nellie is smacked in the face with a disgusting smell.

One that smells like old food and rotting. She looks down at her feet, jumping back at the sight of a dark brown puke spot right in front of her.

          "That's puke," Daryl states. Nellie scoffs, "Thanks, Captain Obvious." The man rolls his eyes at her, shining his flashlight on the blue container of antifreeze and the red solo cups that surround it. "Those douchebags in the bushes took themselves out—holding hands—kumbaya style," Daryl remarks. Nellie snorts in amusement, staring at the old boxes of beer beside them. "Does beer go bad? It's just fermented wheat, right?" She asks, poking at the ale box. Daryl presses his lips together, "I ain't gettin' you drunk. Plus, that brand is shit."

             "How does them wanting to go out together as they lived douchebags?" Bob questions. Nellie glances at the beers one more time but refrains. She's never been drunk nor tipsy and the first time won't be in a random garage with shitty beer.

"It does if she could have gotten out," Daryl responds. "Everybody makes it, till they don't. People nowadays are dominoes. What they did, maybe it's about not having to watch them fall," Bob goes on.

         Nellie and Daryl share a borderline judging glance before looking away from each other. "Right," Daryl gruffly says, grabbing a jug of water. Raspy breathing makes Nellie freeze for a moment. A small moment that pisses her off. A moment that could've killed her if she wasn't such a scaredy cat all the sudden. Nellie curses to herself, telling herself to get her shit together as they round the aisles.