Skills to use

I had already judged that there wouldn't be anybody or anything in here, but I still took my precautions. Mother had told me that no amount of training can truly prepare you for the real thing. Which is why they were going to start sending me on test runs when I turned 12.

Houses creak, there's not much you can do to avoid that. However with knowledge of floor plans and architecture you can limit the amount that you cause. Which is what Father would teach me. It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that Father was the mundane teacher. He taught me reading, writing, different languages and non violent skills including basic medical skills.

Mother was the practical teacher. I learned all the skills that I needed when it came to actually finish my job. Moving silently, keeping my face hidden without looking suspicious, or even entering a home without leaving a trace. I didn't have my grease or oils for the hinges but that was fine. I had noticed a kitchen window that was open.

This would be the first time I had put my skills to use that Mother had taught me. Of course I had practiced many of times, I had even killed people before. But all of that had been under the watchful eye of my Caretakers.

I peered through the closed windows as I made my way around the side of the house, still allowing my hearing and smelling to be focused on my surroundings. My eyesight did not fall behind due to the genetics manipulation. I could see as well in the dark as I could at night and I had a natural protective film that prevented things like sunlight to blind me or even dust to irritate it.

The open window came up to my shoulders, the house having been lifted to allow a large crawl space underneath for plumbing and utility purposes. I felt the smooth wood of the frame, checking for splinters before with one quick motion I launched myself up into the window. Satisfied with only a tiny creak that most people wouldn't have heard.

However now that the world was so quiet, me being as silent as possible would be more important than ever. Before even Mother had taught me to use natural sounds to mask my movement. I would no longer have that luxury it would seem.

I slipped over the counter that was directly below the window, avoiding the abandoned dinner ware as I reached the floor. First order of business would be to explore the entire house before I begin looting. Again I was 100% sure nothing was in the house, but it's good to stick to habits. Mother had always said if you didn't know the layout of an area that you should learn it first before completing the mission. Because even the best could run into unforeseen circumstances and the difference between surviving and death, could be whether you knew what was on the other side of a door or not. Better to escape than to kill more than your were tasked to kill.

I moved quickly throughout the house, inspecting everything I could. Sticking to the solid supports of the floor to limit the unnecessary sounds. I couldn't help doors creaking in my current circumstances, so I didn't berate myself too harshly for those.

After a few minutes I had completely scoped out the entire house and knew that there wasn't much left inside. I was just about to start looting what there was to grab: can openers, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, and an assortment of household appliances that didn't require electricity when I heard a whistle.

Focusing my full attention back outside, I headed to the front door when I noticed that heard more than just one set of footsteps. Light but clumsy ones, heavier sure footed ones and a set of stumbling and dragging steps as if they were walking with a messed leg.

I eased through the door just as I saw Rick get smacked in the face with a shovel by a young black kid. I cursed inwardly at myself as I ducked behind the railing of the front porch. I wasn't used to having to keep track of another person's safety. Mother had always said to never rely on another person and to make sure to keep myself safe above all else. But I didn't have to live by those rules anymore.

I had seen all the photos on the walls of this house. There had been a family that lived here, a real mother and father with 2 daughters. They had had a pet dog named Buddy, judging by the drawings in one of the bedrooms. My relationship with Mother and Father had never been something like this. It had been more akin to instructor and student.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy, I got the sumbitch! I'm gonna smack him dead!"

I gripped the pistol and leveled it at the kid, but I looked to where the other 2 footsteps were and where the kid's eyes were looking. An older black man stepped out on the street where a walking corpse was, stepping close and sending a shot theough the side of its head with a revolver.

I vaulted over the railing, sticking to the bushes, I got closer and kept my pistol aimed at the man.

"He say something? I thought I heard him say something." He asked the boy.

"He called me Carl."

"Son, you know they don't talk."

Despite the fact they had just hit Rick with a shovel I didn't get the feeling that they were bad people. This is just the way people have to be when they have to survive. I imagine they must not see many actual live people nowadays.

Making a decision I holstered the pistol and stepped out from the bushes with my hands up. A gentle but nervous looking smile was what I chose.

"Uh- uh excuse me." I called out, keeping my voice low and scared sounding.

"What are you doing?" I continued as they both turned towards me, the man aiming his gun at me. Which I fought the instinct to flinch and take cover. I was confident in ability to draw shoot before he could get one round off, even in the current situation. It was obvious he was not that skilled with a handgun. Which was evident by the way he held it with no center of gravity, and from here I could tell that the barrell wasn't even fully pointed at me. If he shot it would go about 2 feet to my left.

Aiming a gun past a couple dozen feet is more difficult than most people realize. Especially in such a poor inaccurate grip.

"Who are you?" He asked now clearly hesitant since realizing I'm a kid likely around the same age as his son.

"My name's Adam. What are you two's names?" I asked in reply, keeping my tone level and friendly.

"Morgan. What are you and your army friend doing here?" He dropped the gun to gesture at Rick on the ground. I lowered my hands, stepping closer since it didn't seem he was going to aim at me again.

"That's Rick, we came here looking for his family. Why did your son hit him with a shovel?" I asked, now crouching beside Rick to check on him. Thankfully it didn't seem like they broke his nose, just rattled him a little. Coupled with not having eaten anything since he woke up it's no surprise.

"Thought he was a walker." The kid said but quieted when Morgan looked at him.

"Walker?" I asked while wiping away the blood that was leaking from Rick's nose with a strip of cloth from the hospital.

"The dead." Morgan replied to the corpse on the street he had shot. It seems zombies aren't a thing here if they are calling them walkers.

"I see. That's the second one I've seen so far." I said

"Second? Have you been living under a rock, kid?" Both of them looked at me with surprise.

"Look I'm sure both me and Rick here would be happy to talk to you. It sounds like there's a lot that me and him don't know. Is there anywhere that we can go to get out of the open?" I finished by gesturing down the street where I could see another walker, seemed it was drawn by the sound but it hadn't noticed us specifically yet.

"Ya, ya. Come on we are in the house just a couple houses down. Uh sorry about your friend and pointing a gun at you, kid." He said as he began lifting Rick up, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he dragged him. I grabbed my bag and Rick's bag, having stashed his gun inside it. They hadn't noticed it when during the whole conversation, and it's probably best if they keep thinking the only weapon we have is my knife that was still sheathed on my thigh.

Author note: Fun fact I had thought about making this meeting be a rescue operation lol. Was going to have Adam sneak in to the house and potentially kill Morgan and Duane. But decided against it. Adam's hearing coupled with his reluctance to be the cold blooded killer Mother and Father 'raised' him to be seemed like it wouldn't make sense. Thats not saying he's going to be a pacifist, not by a long shot. He's just not going to kill everyone he sees, unless they threaten what he's wanting from this life.

Thanks for the early support on this. Upload schedule will likely mostly be on the weekends. A random weekday chapter is not impossible, but not likely either. Also wanted to give a bit of a heads up. This will be a story that sticks fairly close to the main story, there will be differences here and there but not likely to be huge deviations from the original story. Sorry if that disappoints any of you but that's just the kind of stories I like to write, though this was probably obvious the moment you read this starting in the hospital with Rick.

Anyways thanks again and until next time.