[Day 3 | Streets of Mayfield | Open to all]It was getting harder to do anything. The air felt heavier, his head was pounding, and no matter how much he drank there was a continuous thirst like his body was missing something. Everyone on staff had been trained to know the affects of radiation poisoning, being a first responder he, Shane, and the
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Hey, buddy you still alive?
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God Damn... Shane, you know how t' make an entrance.
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I ain't fucking Shane, name's Tank Dempsey. Now get up, this ain't a place a person should take a fucking nap at.
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Ea-easier said than done I'm afraid. Take my pack. It's.. got a few things in it. Food. Supplies- not gonna be needing them where I'm goin.
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Some place better than this? Fuck if I know. God has a shitty sense of humor.
[The former Deputy tried his best to get his feet under him because he'd be damned if he had to be dragged anywhere. Grimes boys were to stubborn like that.] Could always send me back home to a swarm of Walkers.
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No shit sherlock. Now hurry up, I got a place better than this piss hole.
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[A very weak smile crossed Rick's face as he struggled to keep up with Tank. Even with the support his legs were not going to last forever making him hope this place was close by.]
I'm Rick... Rick Grimes. Gonna owe you a beer after this is all over.
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[It didn't matter to him, as long as he could continue to carry the other person along.]
And you better fucking believe that I'll hold ya to that promise Rick.
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