Chapter Text
If anyone would have told me a few years ago that this would be my life now, I wouldn’t have believed them. The dead reanimated was an impossibility, a joke; a sick joke that has become the terrifying truth.
Civilisation as we knew it fell and humanity descended into primitive survival mode. Everything I knew is gone. Cities. People. Technology. No more creature comforts, instead it’s survival of the fittest, and the dead apparently.
I don’t know how long I’ve been wandering , I’ve lost track of dates, instead I follow the seasons. I think we’re approaching the end of winter with the way the air is subtly warming.
Shaking my head, I come back to my senses, returning from the memories of what life used to be like. There’s no point dwelling on what was, I need to stay present and keep my wits about me to avoid the dangers.
A soft breeze stirs the tree canopy above me and the rustle of leaves soothes my tired mind. I glance towards the sky, noting how the stars are fading as daylight chases the night away.
Treading carefully, I navigate the forest floor as quietly as I can. I had very little knowledge of survival techniques before this all started but with time I’ve learned. Some things I found out the hard way, some through trial and error and others I was lucky enough to be taught. But like the seasons, people come and then they inevitably go, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
A wave of nausea rolls through me, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in days. To settle my stomach I take a long drink from my canteen but even that’s running low. I’m dangerously low on everything.
Crouching, I listen intently, trying to catch any sign of life in the woodland surrounding me but there’s nothing there. In all honestly, I didn’t really expect to hear anything, there are no other signs of life after all. There hasn’t been for a while now and yet I still keep hoping. Sadly, I can’t survive on hope, alone.
Lack of food is becoming a big problem, I can’t remember the last time I ate enough to satisfy the gnawing in my stomach and I’m struggling to remain focussed. My mind keeps playing tricks on me but I have to push on. I need to find food and I need to find a safe place to sleep tonight.
Chewing on my bottom lip I think back to the car I had been sleeping in. It had been a shitty old thing but I’d been dry and relatively safe in there. That was until some bastard stole it whilst I was out looking for food.
Running my hand down my face I try to ignore the anger clawing through my mind. It was just a car, I remind myself for the umpteenth time, even though I’m lying. It was so much more than just a car, it was respite from the madness. My own slice of safety in a world tipped upside down and some one took it from me.
I’m about to give into the molten emotions scorching my blood when a rustle up ahead snatches my attention.
Eyes wide, I hold my breath, ignoring the wild thumping of my heart. Another noise, one I can’t place confirms that there’s something out there.
Excitement rushes through me and I carefully move towards the sound. I want to run and my body protests at the subdued pace, my muscles itching to take flight but I can’t risk it. Yes, it could be a herd of the undead but it could also be the first proper meal I’ve had in weeks.
It doesn’t take long to reach a break in the trees and the source of the noise. A fissure of nerves heightens my senses as I spot a man with his back to me. He’s loading what looks like a crossbow, his focus entirely on a doe in the clearing.
A doe! Actual food. Subconsciously my fingers flex to my throwing knife on my belt. I could take the animal out if I just got a little closer.
Inching forward I’m about to break cover when I regain my senses. What am I doing? It makes far more sense to wait it out. Let the stranger do the hard work and then take what I need and be gone. If I’m clever I could do it all without him realising.
Scanning the area I look for a suitable place to lay a trap. I need something to make enough noise to draw him away for a few minutes. That will give me plenty of time to scavenge a meal or three from his kill.
In my peripheral vision, I’m aware of his slight change of stance and I can’t stop my eyes being drawn to his frame. He holds the crossbow confidently, his feat planted and shoulders square. Obviously he knows what he’s doing. Staying low I wait for him to unleash the bolt, but he seems to hesitate and I can’t figure out why. What’s wrong? The doe seems unaware of him and there’s no other source of threat except—
He lets his bolt fly, taking down his target soundlessly before snatching a handgun from his side and pointing it in my direction.
“C’mon out. I know ya there,” he calls roughly.
Through the cover of the bush in front of me, I eye him, weighing up my options. He has a gun but he’s alone. If I had to, I’m pretty sure I could take him down.
“C’mon, ain’t got all day!” He yells, growing agitated.
The draw of the kill is too tempting. Even just the leg off the beast would see me right for a week. It’s a no brainer.
Holding my hands up in surrender, I stand slowly and ease my way around the bush.
“You ‘lone?”
Keeping my eyes fixed to his, I nod. He reminds me of a wild animal and I don’t want to make him overly skittish.
He sweeps his gaze over me, paying special attention to the knife handles above my shoulders that lead to the long blades strapped to my back. “Throw down your weapons an’ step away from ‘em.”
With my hands still raised in what I hope is enough of a show of submission, I shake my head, “Can’t. I need them.”
A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Won’t need ‘em if your dead,” he threatens, narrowing his eyes.
He thinks he’s got the upper hand, maybe he has and I’m too starved to realise it but I refuse to be parted from my knives. Survival techniques I had to learn after the world turned, but knife fighting was a hobby of mine long before. The black oxide coated blades were a gift from my long since dead husband and had kept me alive thus far. I was not prepared to simply give them away.
Assessing the situation it was easy to see how I’d take him down if I need to. I had cover in the brush surrounding me and I had my throwing knives. It wouldn’t take a lot to throw and duck. He’d be dead before he knew I’d moved.
“I don’t wanna kill you,” he sighs wearily and I actually think he means it.
“I was just looking for food. I don’t want any trouble.” I counter, and it’s true. If I have to take him down I will but in all honesty I’d rather just steal some of his doe and leave. Murder is not something I take lightly, even now.
His eyes bore into mine and he chews on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about something and experience tells me this is a bad sign. Readying myself for a fight, I take a slow breath.
“Al’righ’,” he surprises me by lowering his gun. “How many walkers you killed?”
My eyebrows furrow and my head tilts. I don’t understand his game; this isn’t how it usually plays out. Strangers are not quick to help one another since the world went to shit and his sudden change of direction leaves me dizzy. Literally.
Exhaling, I sink to my knees as my legs give out. Reaching forward, my hands connect with the earth and save me from falling flat on my face. Momentarily I’m blinded as my sight fades to black and panic engulfs me.
Now is not the time to show weakness but no matter what I try, my body won’t cooperate.
“Stay back!” I warn the stranger, unable to disguise the fear in my slurred words.
“Too late,” he replies, his voice too close for comfort.
As my consciousness dances in and out, I’m vaguely aware of the man taking my knives. Powerless to stop him, I drop onto the grass and surrender to the situation. There’s not much else I can do, I’m too weak, too broken to fight back. Swallowing down my fear I resign myself to fate. I’m about to pass out, stripped of weapons and strength there’s nothing left for me to do but wait for death. If I’m lucky I won’t wake up again and this will be it.
God, I hope I’m lucky.
* * *
I’m luckier than I thought. When I wake I’m in a large concrete room with a dusty floor. I look up to see a barred window, the midday sun streaming through creating a stark stripes on the floor next to me. In the near distance I hear people talking, their voices light and trouble free.
Glancing to my right, I meet the cautious glare of the stranger I ran into in the forest, only he’s not alone. Three other people, all of them now turning their wary gazes towards me, flank him.
Instinctively I reach up but it’s a futile gesture. My knives are gone, I remember him taking them from me.
“Take it easy, you’re safe here.” An older guy with his long white hair tied back steps forward and smiles.
I grit my teeth and force myself to stand. It hurts like a bitch, my body aching in places I didn’t know could ache, but I have to ignore the pain, I can’t afford to show weakness in front of these people if I intend to survive. Backing away slowly, I move until I feel the cold concrete wall behind me.
“How many walkers you killed?” The man from this morning snaps impatiently.
My mind whirls. Should I answer? Is it a trap? What do these people want with me?
The last thought causes a shudder to run the length of my spine at the many unthinkable possibilities.
“I’m Hershel, that over there is Glenn and you’ve already met Daryl.” The older man takes another tentative step towards me, holding his hands out in front of himself. “We ain’t gonna hurt you, we just need to ask some questions and then we can fix you up.”
“My knives.” The words slip past my lips before I can stop them.
“They’re safe. You can have them back as soon as we know you’re not a threat. Now,” he smiles and gestures to the bed, “why don’t you answer Daryl’s question. How many walkers have you killed?”
I’m trapped. Glancing around I can see that I’m in a prison and every exit is locked. I have no exit strategy other than play by their rules and hope to god they don’t kill me, or worse. Sighing heavily, I slide down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest and rest my head against the concrete behind me.
“I don’t know. I haven’t counted.” I shrug. “Lot’s. Too many and yet, not enough.”
“An’ how many people you killed?” Again the same rough tone calls over to me. I glance at the hunter, at Daryl, before lowering my gaze to the floor.
“Seven.” I’m ashamed and disgusted that I can now add murderer to my résumé.
“Why?”
Chewing on the inside of my cheek I wonder if I should tell them the truth. Would they understand? Would it intimidate them enough to get me out of here or would it just add to their reasons to kill me?
“Why?” Daryl presses.
Narrowing my eyes, I stare him down, trying to get a read on him. He could have left me in the woods, taken my meagre belongings and forgotten all about me, but he didn’t. He brought me back to his camp even though he owes me nothing.
Where as I, I now owe him everything.
“Revenge.” I admit.
“For what?”
“My family.”
I’m not willing to explain any further. I don’t know these people; I’m sure as hell not about to spill my life story.
“What happened?” Hershel probes.
“Bad things.”
He’s about to press for more when the door opposite me opens and a woman walks in carrying a bowl in her hands. Without a word, she crosses the space and places the plastic container next to me. I don’t know what it is but it smells amazing.
“You should eat,” she instructs.
“This is Carol.” Hershel gestures to the woman, “and she’s right, you’re malnourished, please, eat your food.”
They don’t wait for me to move, instead they retreat to the door and huddle around one another speaking so low I can’t hear what they’re saying.
Sliding my gaze back to the bowl I try and ignore the pain in my stomach. I don’t care if I am dying, I refuse to eat it; I won’t owe these people anymore than I do already. I’ve been down that path before and it lead to nothing but trouble and heartache.
“It ain’t poisoned.”
My heart leaps into my throat as Daryl spits out his words. He’s hovering next to me, his furious glare pinning me to the spot. I hadn’t heard him approach and his proximity unnerves me.
“I’m not hungry.” I lie, the shot of adrenalin caused by his sudden appearance bolstering my weary body enough to allow me to at least square my shoulders and raise my chin.
“Bullshit, your starvin’, look at the way your bones stick out. You look like shit woman so eat the damn meat.”
As the others filter out and clang the door shut, I realise I’m not getting out anytime soon. Anger boils my blood and I’m tempted to throw the bowl at my unwanted companion, but what would be the point? Sure, it would make me feel better for all of thirty seconds but then I’d have to deal with the fall out.
Daryl sighs and scratches the back of his neck. I think he’s trying to make some sort of decision as he dances from one foot to the other. Eventually he stops fidgeting and sits down a few feet to my right, mirroring me with his back against the wall.
“We don’t wanna hurt you, we’re tryin’a help you.”
“And here in lies my problem.” I whisper not meaning for him to hear but he does.
“What happened to your people?”
I curl in to myself, hiding my face as I rest my forehead on my knees. “Bad things by worse people.”
“You always talk in riddles?”
“No,” I snarl, “only when I’m held captive in a prison.”
He makes a noise half way between a laugh and a curse as he pushes to his feet. “You really think we wanna hurt you after all we done t’ help? Shoulda left your sorry ass where I found you.”
“Well why didn’t you?” I snap, struggling to stand but refusing to allow him to look down on me in any way.
“Cos it ain’t what we do here.” His tone is soft as he looks away.
The corners of my vision waver and I can feel my blood rushing to my feet. I’m going to pass out again unless I sit back down. Stubbornly I grit my teeth and fight to remain upright. I’m fighting a losing battle.
Without warning, Daryl grabs the top of my arms and drags me back to the bed, dumping me down unceremoniously without a word. A second later he thrusts the bowl into my hands with the gruff command to eat.
The bowl is warm and the smell, divine. Everything inside me screams to devour the meal from my growling stomach to my trembling hands and yet I still can’t bring myself to.
“You can eat it on your own or I can force it into you.” Daryl growls, taking up his new position on the floor by the door opposite me.
It’s the final push I need. The flavour is mouth-watering and the sensation of chewing something other than plants drives me to close my eyes and savour every mouthful.
I eat slowly, unsure of how my body will react to the food and not wanting to rush the experience. Whoever created this meal is nothing short of godlike in my eyes.
Once the bowl is empty I make a show of placing it down next to me, earning a tiny smirk from the man watching me.
“How good are you with them blades?” Daryl’s question is laced with undertones and I can’t help but feel like he’s worried.
“Better than anyone else I’ve ever met.” I answer honestly.
He grunts and the conversation is over.
Now that I’m full, I’m fighting to stay awake, my eyelids drooping as each blink lasts longer and longer. I try every trick I can think of to stay awake but soon enough, I settle onto the thin mattress and drift into slumber.