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c h a p t e r - t w o:

rough edges

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08:30 P.M.

-*-

Margo turned the map that Bridger had found awhile after they'd met, around and around, she couldn't tell which was the right side up. The directions were scratched off, there were lines all over said map, blotches of blood, ink and whether that was sweat or pee, she didn't want to know. It didn't help she held the map with pointer fingers and thumbs, the smell was horrid and she didn't want to spread those type of germs onto her body.

"Where the hell did you find this thing?" Margo asked in a hoarse voice, trying not to breathe in the deadly fumes. It probably wasn't deadly, it just smelled deadly. "The sewer's? Deep inside of Pennywise's rectum, perhaps?"

Bridger rolls his eyes and quickly snatches the map in one swift move, somehow not tearing it in half. "Stephen King fan, I'm guessing?"

Margo shrugged, "I don't like clowns. I mean, I'm sure Stephen King's writing is great, but I've never read his books. Maybe I will one day, if we end up finding any of his work."

She really doubted that, truth was, she disliked scary stories and movies. Anything that had to do with horror, she'd turn the other cheek and find something less scary and pick up a genre that was more her taste. Like Romance, Adventure, or even Fantasy. But overall, Margo was more of a Mystery\Thriller mixed with Teen Fiction type of person.

Mystery\Thriller isn't a scary genre, think of it as a bumpy ride with some small surprises.

"Well, here's your problem." Bridger points out. "You're having a hard time seeing the map because its getting dark out!" He acted like it was so obvious.

"I wasn't even paying attention to the sky," Margo defended herself. "I was too busy finding our next pit-stop."

"Pit-stop?" Bridger scoffed. "This isn't a vacation... not your average one, anyway."

Margo nodded, "I'm aware, but I didn't know what other words to use in the moment. I'm trying, alright?"

Bridger shrugged his shoulders, not in a mean way or even a nice way. He just wanted to get to the next 'pit-stop' and rest. He was sure Margo was just as tired as he was.

"We'll never get to this 'Safe Haven' you so speak of," Margo pointed out. "If we can't get ourselves a book-light of sorts."

She continued, "Because surely there will be many nights where we will not be able to make 'pit-stops', and will have to just travel throughout those nights and fed up with being extremely exhausted the very next morning and throughout the day."

She wasn't wrong. But of course, she wasn't helping with their situation either.

Bridger sighs, already tired of her voice. "Listen," He stops and Margo follows suit. He looks down at her, being taller by three feet or so. "Let's not cut straight to conclusions just yet, you don't know that."

He then added, "I say we just go on towards our future in Texas, right now. And worry about what could possibly come later. It'll happen whenever it happens. But as of now," He points to the floor, as though he were telling a dog to come and obey. "We need to worry about the Present not the future, at least not now, not yet. Understood?"

Margo grinned and crossed her arms, "Understood."

"Good." Bridger continued walking on.

Margo caught up to him at a fast walk, "I was testing you, ya'know?"

"How so?" He wonders.

"I wasn't serious about the 'book-light' thought. I mean, obviously we won't be finding one of those any-time soon." Margo's grin was back. "I was testing you, to see how you'd react. I wanted to see what type of emotions that you could still muster in a dead world, such as your own. Stuff like that."

She lastly added, "And I guess you could say, I'm quite impressed. I'm glad you think that way, to be honest."

Bridger hardly even glanced at her, if anything he was surprised how much gratitude Margo had given him just then. Trust me, I don't deserve it. He thinks.

The sounds of growling killed the conversation, not that it was a good one anyway, but nonetheless it was broken. They were in a big open place in Los Angeles, and it seemed to only be one Zombie. At least, that's just what it looked to be.

Bridger took out his pistol, as it took him four bullets to get that Zombie on the ground, motionless.

"Wow." Margo looked down at it. "My grandfather would've gotten it with one bullet." She teased, even though it was true.

Bridger rolled his eyes, "Yeah? Well. Be grateful that I got it dead either way." He motioned his head towards her. "And let's not forget who has the weapon here, and who still needs one." He raised a brow.

Margo crossed her arms, "After you, Princess." She grins.

Bridger sighs, putting his gun back into the inner pocket of his trench coat. As they continued on down the road, towards a large bridge that goes across a lake.

Only to hear a horde of growls, Bridger and Margo looked behind them. Seeing a lot more Zombies than just one, running after them, hissing and roaring.

"Oh sh*t." Bridger whispered to himself.

"I guess that wasn't the only Zombie that was around," Margo suggested. "Sneaky bastards, as dead as they are, they can sometimes be smarter than the living."

Margo then added, "I suppose we should run?"

Bridger nodded, "Finally, something that comes from your mouth that I can actually agree on."

Both Margo and Bridger looked forward again, towards the bridge that they were headed towards. And so they ran, being chased by a horde of the infected.

Bridger didn't bother using his gun, as there were way too many to count.

For as many Zombies Bridger has killed so far on his own journey through Los Angeles, even before meeting Margo. You would think all of the infected have finally been washed out in the town, if not all, at least most.

But sadly, that wasn't the case.

They ran and ran, for as long as their legs could take them.

And they didn't stop. They couldn't stop.

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Here's chapter 2!

Sorry for the late update, been very busy lately.

What was your favorite part of this chapter? :)

xoxo <3