If I give now, would everything be better?

My mind wandered in the same place for the last six days since we arrived. The place far from here, the place I slowly build trust and love, it's all temporary, I realize. 
It's been months since Dylan took me in, that day I resolved to call them my parents even though I knew I shouldn't, and then suddenly the feeling got buried or maybe transformed into something I wouldn't recognize anymore along with them. It's got me thinking if what happened was caused by my decision to call them my parents.  Or a punishment for not calling them my parents. 
The campmate would try to have some conversations and try to persuade me to go outside to get some fresh air. I would admit the sweat smell in the tent became unbearable. The smell of unwashed clothes, the dry and humid weather don't help the insulated tent, and the air in here smells fetid and unavoidably musty. The weather here was always inconsistent, one day it was all raining and others just like today were heating ground as if trying to grill people all over. 
The dark blue ground and grey material tent make the day and night unrecognizable. I can't feel the air from the outside if not for Blythe who let the air in before he left, making the smell less unbearable, I have no idea what he has been doing for the past six days, he would always never miss breakfast, lunch, and dinner, even if I would refuse, he would find other ways making me finish all the food he brought in. Even though it was cooped in the tent, whenever Blythe opened the curtain, I had to make a small conversation with people here and then for a few hours before I closed them back from the weight of their eyes and the weight of something I don't know which they unknowingly laid on my shoulders without my consent.
The girl from Bread Truck back then would come and finish her work with me, give me company, and expose me to how the outside works. She was working in the kitchen now after she heard how they lacked staff who could contribute to feeding hundreds of people here. She also volunteered to work the same work she had in Laketown residence, in a greenhouse except, as she described, I imagined it was an open space with a lot of seeds aisle and an open field to work on. She would make me peel the potatoes, and work on peeling anchovies sometimes. But, I am glad, for a moment, Dylan's death and Sarah's body disappeared from my mind. 
Sometimes a few guards would come and greet me when the tent's curtain opened they asked the same thing, “May I ask for your name, sir?.” And start a conversation until I would ask them if they could leave me alone, and that's a man, who was the first man I met as we reached here was someone who I couldn't get rid of, he kept insisting on coming again and again, I mean always come and spend his time here, not I can complain. I can't because, every time I see him I remember his name, and his name, Michael is the same name as the guy, younger than me, a sweet man with an innocent look and blonde hair with freckles on his cheek. The man who I had to kill even though he was already dead, not even the funeral he got, even if he died. Even if they died, Sarah, Dylan, Michael, and all Lake Town residents got infected. 
That man, also, from what he sometimes told me, was a great man, he was born into an army family, and there's a say that his late father was an assassin who trained als to be the next. There's also a saying he has a twin who got sent abroad but there's also a saying that's not his twin but also in disguise, but no one knows the truth. Their family is like shadows but everyone knows they exist because they see them. Not that I care. Michael did say, he suspected that maybe I am Als’s twin which is ridiculous.
Then, who am I? 
Silence engulfed me as I pondered the question. All I remember, waking up near the shore, freezing, chilling spine, and finding a village of zombies before almost getting eaten alive by the big guy and the zombies' minions, and Dylan found me… Dylan was the first person to find me there, vulnerable, shaking like a scared puppy, he took me in…
My mind intentionally wanders off to the first grid. 
______________________________Memories
First day at work with Michael.
“Um, hi?.”
I greeted awkwardly as the guy in the shed hammering what looked like a blade into shape. Behind him the fire in what I took as a clay oven burning with a great intensity. There was a waist-height table on both sides and a pile of stuff on top of it. The wall hangs with his prototypes as expected from the blacksmith. Dylan patted my shoulder softly, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. 
“Oh hi, chief.”
He greeted. I wasn't surprised anymore by his position like I did the first time, I swear he doesn't look like one. 
Dylan pushed me in as if a kindergarten kid. The guy's eyes lit up, I was certain stars were bursting in his eyes, a match to his freckles scattered on his cheek. 
“So, who is this?.”
He asked, his eyes still having the no-ending stars bursting. He was small, and dare I say, skinny but he had no problems holding the weight in his arm, the round head steel with, maybe approximately 1 to 2 kilograms, not a weight someone this small could bear. He put the steel down as he approached, wiping his thick dark oil hand over his track pants, and I noticed he wore the leather aprons over the naked white rosy sweating chest. 
“I am Walter. Walter junior. Nice to meet you.”
I answered him, taking his hands to shake. If I need to work with him I would be allowed to hunt again, I would take the offer, he looks decent and maybe a nice guy. He took my hands in his callous palm, nodding as if he was glad to know me. I turned to Dylan who stood beside me, find it strange he didn't let anything slip past his lips, he always used his free time to make fun of me and teasing until one of us fell into our bed first. As my eyes aimed at his figure, he was there, froze as if he saw a ghost, as if he wasn't breathing. 
Noting the odd, the guy, who I haven't learned his name quickly pulled his hands as he scrambled to get a wooden chair.
The oddest was, that Dylan decided to accompany me for the whole day learning on tools and practicing. He sat there with teary eyes, a proud smile blooming on his face. He was quiet the entire time, sometimes even sniffing in his seat. 
“You don't have any work, old man? What kind of chief sits around when everyone is supposed to work building a better place for us to live?.”
I joked as I forged the blade with Michael's guidance. I let a smile loom on my lips, feeling so comfortable and happy, the work doesn't give me adrenaline like the hunting was, but it makes me feel happy to work under the supervision of someone precious. 
“How old are you?.”
I filled the space with questions, avoiding an awkwardness to slip in.
“19 in a couple weeks.”
He smiled, a dimple in his left cheek flashing like a deep well. His brunette hair was swept by the picked-up breeze. So, he is young. Very young
The day was filled with loud clanking steel on steel. The garage with four wooden walls stood high and prouder, the smoke clouding the chimney as we went through our work. A burst of laughter would join in after a joke and jokes with thrown back to each other, roasting each other, on little time, Michael felt more than just an instructor, seemingly joining in Dylan's misery. At the looks of getting cornered, Dylan would throw a dad joke to fuse the situation only to get the laughter the most. 
By the end of our work, I finally could almost perfect my tenth blade, there were just different blade sizes, types, and even a small detail on the holder. I was very sure, this work would be the second greatest work I've ever experienced and fieldwork was the worst, no offense, it just doesn't fit me that well. 
The sky was painted orange and red bleeding through the sky. Michael lit up the candle as we work through all the mess together with Dylan's butt in here and there just to be told he was doing it all wrong. When everything is just as clean as it can be, I grips Michael's hand in goodbye. At dinner, Dylan told Sarah how well I was doing and how amazingly in detail, he can't even let his butt sit as he stood in between his dinner to show Sarah how I was doing in Michael's shed. Clear in his eyes, just as clear as the weather, he was so proud and so was Sarah. Before he got kicked butt for not informing his substitute that he was supposed to go for the day and leave all his work to the clueless workers who don't know what to do. 
Dylan would sneak out after, and buy the entire blades I made. He doesn't want to get it free, saying it was precious, and being the nice person Michael is, he gave me the money and said it was all my effort, and I deserved it, not until I pressed him to tell me how the money came even I know, it's not a high-quality making. 
“Walter.”
My train of thought stopped abruptly. 
The tent's curtain made a sound as Blythe pushed them to walk in. In his hand, just like every day in these six days, the wooden bowl and spoon were brought and he would more accurately force me to eat. My breath hitches as I was shocked by the memory, getting dragged to reality. 
“How are you doing?.”
He parked his ass in front of me, and casually slide the bowl to me. I looked over and remembered how he locked my head between his muscular arm and fed me with another hand. I almost choked, throwing it up, and most absolutely suffered. I refused to do the same things, so, picking up the spoon, I ate it quietly. When was the last time I ate Sarah's food?  A week ago, more honestly, eight days ago before we went to the lake, and when the last time I ate Dylan's food, for the first and last time was the first day of family day, his stale bread and homemade jerky tasted weird but still, we finished it and so. 
*Good, or not so. “
I answered as I took another sip of the tomato and meat stew. He took a deep look as he stayed quiet, in many months I had been in Lake Town residence, never I had ever seen Blythe Nyma quite like this. 
“Why?. Got your panty pulled?.”
His head snapped to me. He let out a deep rumble laugh. When he was trying to stop, he was snorting. His eyes tearing up. His laugh mixed with the sound of children running and laughing just reminded me of the old lake townhome. There were always Sarah and Dylan laughing as we sat in the living room, watching the kids running and joking around. 
“Nah, you funny man. I was reading on a bulletin board, thinking might have some news. But, no. “
My face dropped as he said that. My hands let out a cold sweat as I held the wooden spoon. 
“Get well quicker Walter. So we can pick up normal life again.”
He said before walking out of the tent. 
“And here I am, wanting to go back to my Laketown residence and check on them. “
I want to believe they are alive and waiting. 
And I tried to forget how they shot Michael to save me.