A simple supply hunt for a source of water in the middle of Atlanta turns sour quickly for Erin as she come fist to face with a fuming, handless Merle Dixon.
Alone in the middle of the apocalypse with only a racist guy who doesn't know the differen...
"The brave die young and that's alright for some but I'm looking for something long term." - Fresh Start Fever, You Me At Six
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What felt like hours later, Erin began to pull herself back to the world of the living. Her left temple throbbed with pain that would no doubt leave a considerable lump beneath the skin. Her vision was blurry as she pried her eyes open, but after a few blinks she could see more clearly and, though it ached unbearably, she managed to lift her head and look around.
She didn't seem to have moved from the stairwell she'd collapsed in, which gave her a bit of comfort that perhaps her attacker wasn't too strong and couldn't lift her, but she was still on edge. If it had been a stray she'd be dead by this point and ambling around with the rest of them, meaning it was definitely a human - but why would a human attack her?
Her question was soon answered as she heard footsteps approaching from up the stairs, towards the rooftop. Instinctively, her hand went to grab a knife, but it returned from her pocket weapon-less; they were all gone, every single blade, even the one tucked in the top of her boot...
Lost without her weapons, she didn't have any means of defence as a pair of feet appeared on the steps just in her sight followed by legs clad in stained blue denim. Whoever it was seemed to be suffering from a limp, which looked more like it was from an old wound rather than a fresh one. The scuffing of their feet against the stairs sent shivers down Erin's spine.
Hastily, she got to her feet, backing up against the wall as the man's face came into view. He was old, but not so much in age, more like the months of fighting against the strays had wearied his features and hardened his gaze as his eyes bore down on her. A dirty leather vest hung loosely on his shoulders over top of a thin t-shirt that may have once been something resembling white - but this wasn't about his fashion choices...
"Freakin' finally... You're awake..." he remarked, barely batting an eyelid at the fact she was stood in the corner. There was a thick Southern twang in his voice, making Erin assume he was from the area, and his lips appeared to turn down in a grimace when he spoke, "The hell ya doin' 'ere? No one comes into the city alone 'less they got a death wish."
Erin considered not answering, but the maddened glare he gave her told her it was best to co-operate. "I don't have anyone left. I was looking for supplies," she gestured to the bag he'd taken from her which was hanging from his bloody hand. Her eyes scanned across in curiosity to his other hand in search for the source of the blood before she mentally reeled back in horror - there was no hand to even look at, just a gory stump...
"Ya found all this?"
She nodded, not taking her eyes away from the wound which seemed to be pouring blood down the leg of his jeans at a reasonably steady rate.
"Yeah." Her voice was hoarse after not speaking to anyone for weeks, but her mind was focused more on the blood than the conversation, "I'm a pretty decent hunter... Er, I can treat that for you, if you want? Maybe you could give me back my belongings and we can talk like civilised people?"
The guy looked disgruntled, looking down at his arm like he didn't think it was such a big deal, "Ya sayin' I ain't civilised?"
Erin was tempted to roll her eyes, but figured that wouldn't improve his attitude, "Just give me the bag, please? You're going to bleed out if you don't sort out that arm soon, and I've got some bandages in there from the local hospital..."
"How do I know ya ain't gonna pull a gun on me?" Jeez, this guy wasn't giving up easily...
"How can I? You've got all my weapons!" She was trying her best not to lose her temper, but he was really starting to get on her nerves, "Pass me my bag and let me treat it."
He grunted in annoyance, though she wasn't sure what he had to be annoyed about, before reluctantly tossing the backpack in her direction. She caught it in midair, hoping nothing important was broken inside. The man remained where he stood by the staircase, leaning back on the handrail with his jaw set in what she guessed was an attempt to mask the pain.
Since he didn't seem to get the hint, she cleared her throat, making him look her way, "I can't sort out your arm if you're over there, can I?"
"I don't want some random Chinese chick messin' with me, if ya want honesty. 'Specially considerin' the amount of knives you was carryin'"
"I have knives because, if you hadn't noticed, the apocalypse is going on outside... and I'm Filipino, not Chinese..." she argued with him, knowing full well he wasn't taking any notice as he huffed and came to sit on top of a crate about four feet away from her. Deciding that was probably the best she was going to get from him, Erin began pulling bandages from the bottom of the rucksack, trying her best not to let them touch the disease-ridden floor, "Give me your arm, then."
He held out his stub of a forearm, eyeing her the entire time while she examined it, "I swear, you try anythin', I put a bullet in your brain..." The threat wasn't exactly empty as he held up her stolen pistol in his single hand. It was loaded, she knew that for sure as she'd filled it herself, and the steely glint in his eye told her he knew it too.
"No need to get violent," she murmured, trying her best to keep her focus on his injury. Luckily, she wasn't squeamish because otherwise just the sight of the apparently severed limb would have left her retching and heaving all over the ground in front of her. It was a reasonably clean cut, but hadn't been conducted with a clean blade if the yellowy pus surrounding the exposed bone and flesh meant anything. It was infected, but thankfully for this guy, not with anything he needed to be worried about. "Could I have my penknife back?"
The man flinched back slightly, wincing as her fingers caught a piece of his torn skin, "Ah, shit! Whaddya' want a penknife for? Think you might slit my throat with it? Nice try, sunshine-"
"Your arm is infected with dirt and rust from whatever you tried to cauterise it with," she pointed out bluntly, interrupting the rant he was building up to and looking at him dead in the eye to get her point across better to him as mere words didn't seem to cut it, "Unless you want to die in agony as the bacteria takes over your bloodstream and stops your heart, I suggest you let me cut out the infected bits."
"Since when are you a doctor? The hell do you know it's infected?" If he hadn't been pointing a gun at her, she could have punched him at that moment. Of all the humans she could bump into, it had to be a stubborn racist, didn't it...
"Just take a look at it, dumb-ass! It freaking yellow!" Her temper was at its last tether and she was honestly considering leaving him to die, but he had her supplies and weapons so she needed to stay on his good side... "Give me the penknife... please... As much as you're annoying me, I don't want your death on my hands..."
He looked up at her and something seemed to change in his gaze. At last, perhaps she found something that had got through to him... not much else seemed to. He stilled after that and looked away as though the corner was extremely interesting, but Erin shrugged off his behaviour.
