[center][h1][color=DodgerBlue]Ciel[/color][/h1] [url=https://postimg.org/image/m5r9kgtfx/][img]https://s14.postimg.org/67ijubz81/giphy.gif[/img][/url][url=https://postimage.org/][/url][/center] [hr][center] Location - Back of the truck, heading towards Newnan [/center][hr] Ciel was still curled up shivering in the back of the truck, the left side of his face and part of his hair splattered with vomit. He breathed in shaky gasps of air, occasionally emitting a raspy cough that sounded like it hurt. He'd been conscious for the last five minutes or so, and his vision was starting to come back. However, he was still far too weak to move around much. Looking around the truck, he noticed that Ray was now lying limp. [color=dodgerblue]...He's probably dead.[/color] Thought the eleven year old, feeling lucky that he wasn't dead himself. With great effort, he managed to prop himself up on his elbow and clean off his face with his sleeve. This gave him a better view of the scenery. Mostly just a bunch of walkers, some of whom were now on fire. [color=dodgerblue]Oy vey...[/color] He thought to himself, unable to speak due to the dryness in his throat and the intense burning sensation it carried with it. The walkers caused Ciel some anxiety, to say the least. His chances of making it were already slim. If walkers got into the truck, he'd have no chance of fighting them off. Besides, he had no idea where his rifle had ended up. Or his inhaler, for that matter. The latter item might be more urgently needed. Since he'd showed up to Franklin with a far more dire medical emergency, he hadn't told anyone about his asthma.... Nevertheless, there was nothing to be done about that now. He was surprised that he even had the energy to sit up. He kept his eyes on the inside of the truck, watching one of the women comforting the boy with the broken leg, and the amputated man lying cold and languid. Another man, also with an injured leg, and a woman whose shoulder had been bitten had joined the people in the back of the truck. This wasn't a good place to die. Surrounded by walkers and injured people, the scent of sickness and death lingering in the air. He was only eleven years old. He couldn't die now. He'd never even had a chance to be useful to anyone. Dying a liability was possibly one of the things he feared the most, after heights and spiders and being restrained. Ciel forced his eyes shut, taking a deep, shuddering breath in a futile attempt to calm his nerves. He'd never get through this if he wasted his energy panicking.