"Do you miss him?" The question came softly through the air in a way she wished it hadn't. It fluttered over her skin like butterfly wings and into her consciousness with soft syllables and worried sentiment. She sighed heavily and turned her gaze to the red head beside her. Bright blue eyes looked at her with concern, rose lips pressed together upon pale and freckled skin. Dustee was beautiful. She had a thin body, enough muscle to pull her own weight, but not overly so. She was shorter than her, probably about five foot six or so, and she was graceful. But that wasn't exactly what made her beautiful. She was kind. Her heart was a good heart and it pained her to know that she was forced to live in the world they were now living it.
It had happened like any end of the world disaster happened. Slow and steady but too fast to react. Too many signs, too many people disbelieving, too little too late. Their world had turned upside down in less than a month and a half. It was not in Liz's nature to panic, so she did not. She had stayed behind when the military came to escort people safely out of the city, she had refused to go to any of the 'safe havens' – call her paranoid or whatever, but she had been glad she followed her gut.
By the time the two women came to be in each other's lives, Liz was already falling into place with the new world. She found it easy to navigate through. Avoid people, avoid the dead, be alone. It was safe. It was how it needed to be. And then came Dustee. Dustee-Rose. All red haired and bright eyes and desperate. She had been covered in blood. Bits and pieces of bodily chunks had marred her skin and clothes as she walked through the streets in a daze. She had almost killed her. But when she had seen the crystal blue of her eyes, she knew she was alive. At least for the time being.
Dustee had protected her.
In hindsight she had been doing a shitty job at watching her back, too mesmerized by the fact that she had come across someone alive to be paying attention to what was going on behind her. Blue eyes had lifted, connected with her gray and then directed themselves over her shoulder before barking, "Duck," held up her Remington semiautomatic 45 and shot the dead right between the eyes. She had barely ducked in time.
And then the redhead had passed out. Fallen on the street, gun in hand, blue eyes still open and staring upward into a cloudy sky.
That was damn near a year ago now.
"Every second," Liz answered, she hated when Dustee started in on her about things. It was like the younger woman wanted her to lose her shit. Bringing up…him…was uncalled for. But Liz never got angry with her anymore. That used to be the case. She would flare up and let loose. Had called the redhead every name in the book a few too many times, and still Dustee had been patient and persistent. Her logic was simple: let it out or let it kill you.
It was sound logic, Liz decided.
The red head nodded and shifted the strap on her shoulder, "It's okay to miss him, I would be more worried if you didn't."
"There will never be a day that I won't, Dus, there couldn't be," she frowned and shrugged one shoulder before reaching out and helping Dusty remove her backpack. "Come on; let's rest here for the night."
Truth was, Liz knew that Dustee would want to talk more on the subject. She wasn't ready to go into any more detail. She had said enough already. Stopping here would get her busy with setting up the perimeter and keeping busy with campsite necessities. It seemed, however, that Dustee was well familiar with her tactic. Instead of agreeing she raised a thin brow at her and refused, "No, I think we should keep going, we killed those last three too close to here." That was a good point. "Besides, I have a feeling we should go a little more, it's a strong one."
Liz sighed. Damn. If she didn't want to stop here, she would want to talk. With a slow nod the blonde agreed and she released her backpack before the two kept on through the wooded area. She was unsure if they were still in Georgia, last time she had checked Atlanta had been twenty miles west. The two of them had avoided that city, cities were dangerous. They had found that out the hard way.
"Why won't you tell me his name?" Dustee asked.
Fuck. Here we go again. Liz frowned and eyed her through the side of her eye before shaking her head and speeding up, "None of your business."
"None of my…" Dustee stopped walking and glared angrily at her. Had she not been with this woman for a fucking year now? They had been through a shit ton of shit together and still, still she held out? "After all the shit we have been through together you still have the balls to say that to me?"
Liz looked over her shoulder but did not stop, when the quick steps of Dustee caught up to her she felt the woman spin her around by grabbing her upper arm, she looked at her, annoyed that she had manhandled her but knowing she probably had every right to be annoyed and put out by her reluctance to speak on certain things. After all, Dustee had no problems telling her everything. She was about to say something to her when a man's voice filled the air. Both women froze in place, ears straining in as the slowly lowered themselves into crouched positions, Dustee's grip on her arm tightening as Liz caught her eye and put her index finger to her lips in the classic 'shhh' motion.
"Lori!" the voice called out, it sounded hoarse, worried, desperate. All warning signs. "Lori please why are you here?!"
Liz motioned for Dustee to stay. Dustee shook her head desperately trying, but Liz assured her everything would be okay. When she was finally released, she turned and quickly made her way to the thick bushes before slipping through them and towards the voice. When she reached what looked like the edge of the woods, her eyes grew wide as she took in the site before her.
A huge building surrounded by fence after fence after fence. A prison. It looked secure enough too. Gray eyes noticed a few people walking closer to the building, animated and alive and it was a sight she wanted to forever remember. Dustee and her were not alone.
"You're dead," came the confused voice and Liz turned to see a man standing on a small man made bridge. His hands were up and pressing roughly into his hair, his eyes shut tightly. He looked like he was about to cry and when he dropped his hands and spun around to look at…well it looked like he was looking at someone who wasn't there – she noticed his stubble cheeks and chin, defined jaw and prominent nose. Had it been that long? She found him attractive, but still, he seemed like he had one too many screws loose.
The man reached out then, slowly, fingers outstretched and she tilted her head in curiosity when it looked as if he were caressing someone's cheek. All in all it was a beautiful moment even if it hung in anxiousness on her part. He was lost in whatever world he was in and that – for some reason – was breath taking. That was until the first bullet flew past him and effectively ended the peaceful scene before her. Liz dropped to the ground completely. Flat against the Earth, eyes wide as she watched the man do the same. Clarity seemed to be back in his eyes as he scrambled and began to shoot back to someone Liz couldn't quite see.
Dustee found her. Falling down beside her with panic in her voice, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she told her and pointed. The two women watched in mounting horror as the gunfire continued. "The dead will hear this," she told her, "We need to get out of here."
"Liz," Dustee prevented her from moving, she pointed and they watched as trucks and a few cars left, the gunfire ending, "It's over, oh shit…" they looked to the man who had been on the outside of the prison's fences. He was being surrounded by the dead.
Without realizing she was doing it, without recognizing the absurdity of it all, Liz had sprung to her feet and took off towards him, he had four on him at once and with a small grunt she brought her hunting knife up out of its sheath and plunged it into the back of one of the dead's skulls right as an arrow came flying past her ear so close it nipped it. With a hiss she ignored it but heard a gruff voice, "Get out the way girl…" and then saw another man grab ahold of one of the dead, slam an arrow through the skull and shove it aside. Together they killed the other two and helped free the man from his trapped position against the fence.
Dustee came up to her then, gun in her hand and pointed at the two men as they all looked to one another. Liz's breathing sharp and hurried, but she pressed her lips together and glared at the men. She watched as the taller of the two raised his hands, palms out and the newcomer lowered his crossbow.
"How many walkers have you killed?" The taller man questioned and the two females frowned.
It was Dustee that answered, "Not really keeping count now are we?" Still her hand was raised, her finger on the trigger.
The shorter stouter man stepped forward then, his entire stature that of barely restrained power, she could see his muscles working in his exposed arms and watched the tick in his jaw as he bit out, "How many people have you killed?"
Dustee faltered then, stepping back behind Liz, her gun hand falling to her side as she frowned deeply and looked away. Liz hated that reaction, but she understood it. With a glare at the taller man, he seemed to be the leader of the two in her opinion she answered, motioned towards Dustee, "Two and I have killed twelve."
There was a pause and a silence that enveloped the four of them in an overwhelmingly heavy unease, Liz lifted her chin defiantly when the third question was asked: "Why?"
She could feel Dustee's hand on her back then, gripping her shirt in a way to comfort her, but she didn't need the comfort. She had no regrets as to why she did what she did and she found Dustee's to be misplaced, looking over her shoulder to her companion she gave a brief 'it's okay' type smile before looking to the gruff man with the crossbow and then towards the taller man behind him and answered truthfully, "Because they killed my son."