Rochelle paused in her staggering stride, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the unforgiving sun. It would be dark in less than three hours and she had yet to find the three things she'd been searching for since the Infection forced her away from her news crew. That seemed so long ago now, her current situation feeling very surreal. She had no idea where she was (apart form the vague description of Savannah, Georgia) and Infected could leap out at her at any given time. But still she had to keep moving, find her three objectives. Shelter was the first and easiest to locate; this whole neighborhood seemed completely abandoned. The next item on her checklist was a suitable weapon. She wouldn't last much longer against Infected without one. The hardest thing to find, however, was other Survivors. Good ones. People who still had their sense and will to fight. Rochelle was beginning to doubt that was a possibility anymore.
So far Rochelle had been fairly lucky in this neighborhood and not directly run into any Infected. She'd had to hide from a few of them here and there but no Specials seemed to be about and the Horde was nowhere in sight (thank god). The producer squinted against the awful brightness of the afternoon sun and suddenly her spirits lifted. There, not a block away, stood an auto repair shop. Rochelle allowed herself a smile as she jogged over to it. There were bound to be a plethora of tools in there she could use as weapons and she could make shelter for the night without much worry. Lucky find! She approached the large garage door of the shop and tested to see if it locked. It didn't. Her eyes swept the inside of the garage for any signs of life...or undeath. So far so good. She closed the door behind her and began poking around for weapons. A slight shuffling behind a desk on the far end caught her attention.
"Hello?" she called tentatively, her hand aimed at a fairly large wrench, "Is someone alive over there?" She picked up on a faint, irregular breathing broken by a whimper now and again. Is that a kid or a Witch? Nervous perspiration slid down Rochelle's neck. She cautiously took a few steps toward the desk.
"Hello?" Suddenly a boy came scrambling out from under it. He ran for Rochelle. Before she could make a grab at the wrench he threw his arms around her middle and his head connected with her upper chest. It took a moment for her to realize she was not about to be eaten or raped. The kid was shaking so badly Rochelle could barely hold him still. She gently returned the embrace, one hand on his back and the other on his hair. Poor kid was so terrified he couldn't make much more sound than a few strangled sobs.
"Oh, sweetie," Rochelle murmured, her maternal instincts kicking into gear. The kid clung to her like she was the last good thing on Earth (and he may have been right). She eased him to the floor where this position would be more comfortable.
"Easy now," she said softly, patting his curly brown hair, "It's okay." She tilted her head to try to get a look at his face. "You calm yet?" He shook his head vigorously and grabbed fistfuls of the back of her t-shirt. "Okay, sweetie, take your time."
Rochelle held the boy for a long time. How long, she couldn't be sure, but it had since begun to grow dark outside. Finally the boy stopped trembling. His grip on her relaxed and he slowly began to breathe evenly.
"You okay now?" Rochelle asked smiling down at the blue and white cap hiding the boy's face.
"Yeah," he responded and his voice sounded hoarse and dry, "Sorry 'bout that." His words were laced with a slow drawl. It suited him somehow.
"Don't worry about it. What happened to get you so worked up?" The boy pulled back and lifted his head to meet Rochelle's gaze. His eyes were the bluest she had ever seen on anyone and he had a sort of childlike innocence in his face that led her to believe he was no older than seventeen or eighteen. His brow furrowed as he spoke, the horror he had experienced instantly sold with those blue, blue eyes.
"I was here when it got to Savannah," he said and she knew he was talking about the Infection, "My friend Keith said he was gonna head out to the city where the military was evacuatin' folks but I didn't think it would get this bad. I stayed behind. Everyone was bookin' out of here till..." He looked away, taking another calming breath. "It was the screams that got me the worst. I holed up in here while everyone was gettin' killed out there." A single tear ran down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. "I thought I'd never see another human again." Rochelle held his hand. He squeezed back, swiping his other arm across his eyes.
"Well, I don't know if you want to but I was going to go out with some weapons and fight my way to an evac point," she said. If necessary she would risk her own safety to protect this kid. But if he wanted to stay put she wouldn't leave him behind. His jaw tightened. The bill of his cap created a shadow over his eyes that set Rochelle's pulse a little higher.
"If it means seein' other people alive count me in," he said, all fear gone from his voice and replaced with a darkness reflected by the shadow over his face, "I ain't dyin' alone." Rochelle stood, pulling the boy up with her.
"I'll make sure you don't die at all," she promised. She picked up the wrench she had eyed earlier and tapped it into her opposite palm. "Tomorrow morning we'll head out and be on a helicopter by nightfall." For the first time since she met him (and probably since the first Infection) the boy smiled. He went next to where the wrench was placed and picked up a crowbar.
"That's nice an' all but this is what I'd use," he said. Rochelle smirked.
"Then you go ahead and use it. Until I find something better I think this will suit me just fine." The kid's eyes lit up.
"Wait right here. I got somethin' I think you'll like." He ran off to some back room. Rochelle heard some glass breaking and felt a brief pang of nervousness. But it was gone as soon as the kid returned with an ear-to-ear grin and a fire axe.
"You can have this," he told her, "It's got better range than that wrench and it's sharp." She reached for it gingerly, hardly believing what she was seeing.
"Are you sure you don't want it?" she asked. He placed it lightly into her hands.
"I'll do just fine with the crowbar. You're so little they could just carry you off if they got too close." Rochelle laughed.
"Well I'm flattered you think I'm little," she said with a sarcastic curtsy, "Anyway, we should get some rest. If we leave at sunrise we'll make it to the evac point with plenty of time." She gave his arm a friendly pat. "And it looks like you haven't slept in a month." The kid shyly rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.
"With the noises I've been hearin' every night I don't think anybody could sleep. Hey, d'you mind if I start ramblin'? Sometimes I get carried away once I start talkin'." Rochelle picked a spot near the desk the kid had been hiding under to spend the night in and leaned her axe against the wall.
"Honey, if it makes you happy, you go right ahead." At that he continued to talk throughout the night, sharing stories of ridiculous escapades with his friends, right up until the point when he dozed off, exhausted. Rochelle had already decided she would stick with this kid until they were rescued. He was a little clingy and very talkative but she figured that was his way of handling the apocalypse. His own little quirk to keep himself sane. She had no problem with that. If he were the intentionally annoying type...well then there might be a problem. It was a good thing there wasn't anyone particularly antagonistic around to piss her off.
.
The following day Rochelle and her new friend encountered a middle-aged high school sports coach and a weaselly-looking guy in a nice suit, almost at the same time. Rochelle was relieved to find them, if not for herself for her younger companion. He was overjoyed to see the two newcomers and babbled the whole way to the evac point. Though the man in the suit gave her an uncomfortable, irritated feeling, she was grateful to have him and the coach join them. Maybe they would help each other survive...
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A/N: IT'S SO FLUFFY! 8D
This is what I picture to be the prequel, if you will, to the group forming. And NO, it is NOT a romantic pairing of Rochelle/Ellis. I used the term "MATERNAL INSTINCTS" for a reason. Also, I know Ellis is 23. He does have a babyface though :3. Anyway, I picture Ellis to be really scared the whole time but as long as he's with people he can handle it.
lol Rochelle's thoughts upon seeing the fire axe - Oh fuck the hell YES. :DDDDDDDD