Hey guys! I'm starting a new Walking Dead fanfiction. I can't help it; I just love this show so much. Tell me what y'all think!
Prologue
Dawn Of A New Day
Riley Todd slashed the machete through -yet another - vine. She swore, if she saw another one- oh, there we go. She growled, irritated, stepping over a fallen log. The humidity made her clothes stick to her sweaty body, and her frizzy, brown curls clung to her skin. The sun was shining, but, with the rainforest's thick canopy, you'd be none-the-wiser. The temperature was well over a hundred, and a thick cloud of mosquitoes seemed to be following her wherever she went. Monkeys started up a chorus of warning howls, signaling that someone was close by.
Riley's brow furrowed as she stumbled, catching herself on a thick tree trunk. She fumbled at her belt for a water bottle that had been emptied almost a day ago. Thirst was making her throat burn, and the humidity made her feel like she was choking.
The slender brunette hated hot weather. Her hatred was so strong that she even disliked warm weather. She loved the cold; the feel of brisk wind blowing into her frost-bitten face. A scarf nestled closely against her neck, and her toes warm and toasty in fuzzy socks and ugg boots.
"What the..." she muttered, peering off into the woods with squinted eyes. It seemed to be a person in the distance, stumbling towards her. Nervously, she re-adjusted her sweaty grip on the machete, moving behind the tree. Her heart started beating faster, pushing blood sluggishly through her veins.
Could the drug cartel have caught up with her? It was unlikely; they all thought that "Elena Esmeralda from Argentina" had died. She had been extremely successful this mission, and her acting had been exceptional. She had enough evidence to get them thrown into jail for life.
A whiny growl snaked from the person's throat as he kept coming. He seemed oblivious of the foliage blocking his path; he plowed right over them. Whoever this was, he wasn't intent on being secret about it.
As he came closer, Riley's brows furrowed. His skin was discolored and sallow, with several infected wounds on his body. His neck was ripped open, dried blood crusted on his purple-ish skin.
Riley shook her head, wondering if she was hallucinating. No human being could survive that kind of wound. But the...thing in front of her was alive, or some loose meaning of the word. It reached its arms out, stumbling through the foliage. She could now hear his moaning and groaning, and his blood-shot eyes were locked on her image.
Riley couldn't take any chances. She pulled her gun out of its holster, shooting a single bullet into its chest. The forest fell dead silent as the animals strained their ears to listen.
The thing didn't stop. It didn't even flinch.
Fear was an emotion that Riley was all-too-familiar with. It was an emotion that made her adrenaline race through her veins and made her feel alive. It was part of the reason she had taken this job; fear was her middle name. But this fear was different. Clarity came to her exhausted mind, and she dropped the gun, clenching the machete with a slightly trembling hand.
The thing stumbled on her, and she impaled it through the eye with her machete. Blood splashed onto her skin and clothes, and he fell like a sack of bricks. Putting one foot on his face and jerking out her knife, she gave up a second of her precious time to study the thing.
The skin was rotting and decayed, taking on an infected hue. Blood covered its whole front and most of its face. Its scleras were red, and the eyes were glazed over. This thing looked...dead. Or, at least, it had been.
The sound of a helicopter drew her from her observations. "Damn!" she hissed, dropping to her knees and pulling her backpack out. She rifled through the contents, hastily lighting the flare. It shot into the sky with a whine and a brilliant, vermillion-green color. The helicopter hovered over her for a second before turning and flying away.
Riley knew they had seen her flare and were directing her to a clearing wide enough that they could land. She followed, stumbling over tree roots and pushing through the foliage. A tarantula dropped on her arm, but she brushed it off, focused on her course.
She eventually came to a clearing. She hopped into the helicopter, where she was given a bottle of water and a pillow. She fell asleep almost immediately, promising herself she would keep the thing she had seen a secret.
Riley sat at the table, eagerly eating a large batch of french fries. Something that no other country could ever replicate was an American-style, dripping-with-grease cheeseburger and soggy, fattening french fries.
"You're eating those like you've never seen food before," the petite Indian girl from across the table stated, smiling.
"She always eats like that," Mark added, sitting between the two girls. He was easily three-hundred pounds, with thick black hair and pink, blotchy skin.
"Shut up," Riley muttered, stuffing another fry into her mouth.
"So, where'd Miss CIA run off to this time?" Simmie asked, smiling softly.
"South America," Riley answered. "And that's all I can tell you," she said in a teasing voice, pointing a french fry at her.
Simmie giggled, reaching forward and taking a bite of the fry.
The TV was on in the small apartment, humming dully. It was set onto the wall, and Riley remembered helping her childhood friend hook it up only about a couple months ago. She was horrendous with electronics, and Riley wasn't exceptional either, so she had called her friend Mark to help. He had clicked with Simmie as well, and the three of them had become fast friends, promising to hang out whenever Riley got back from her latest spy mission.
A news reporter suddenly appeared on the screen, interuppting the latest episode of Criminal Minds. "Oh, turn it up please, Mark. This might be about the virus."
"You're twenty-nine years old; you need to learn how to use a damn remote," Mark complained, turning the volume up.
"...has reached emergency status. All Georgia residences are encouraged to evacuate to Atlanta. Refugee camps are being set up, and the army is being moved in. If you cannot relocate to Atlanta, then staying in your homes would be your best bet. The Center for Disease Control is working madly on a cure. You'll be notified when we have new information. Stay tuned." The reporter lady disappeared, replaced with the face of Spencer Reid.
Mark turned the volume back down, causing the apartment room to become silent. The joking faces turned somber.
"This is pretty serious, huh?" Mark mumbled.
Riley nodded, dropping the french fry back onto the plate. Her thoughts turned back to the thing she had seen, deep in the Colombian rain forest, making her lose her appetite. She wrestled with her thoughts for a moment. "Guys, I-" Riley started but was cut off by frantic knocking on the door.
"Simmie! Simmie, get out here, quickly!" a man shouted through the door. "We're evacuating, quick!"
Riley could hear faint screaming echoing throughout the halls. Simmie and Mark's faces drained of color, twisting into grimaces of horror. Immediately, Riley knew what was happening. The virus that affected the man in Colombia had finally hit the apartment.
"Get up," she ordered, leaping to her feet. The other two didn't move, so she grabbed Mark and hauled him to his feet. "Get up! Mark, go find as many suitcases and bags as you can find. Simmie, start getting our clothes. Now!" Riley snapped, shoving Mark towards the lemon closet and Simmie to the bedroom. Riley was happy that Mark and her had decided to stay with Simmie instead of in a hotel. She could see the panic freezing their blood, making their muscles tense to the point where they didn't want to move. But, with clear, simple instructions, they found their bodies moving.
She sprinted to the kitchen, opening all the cabinets. She knocked all the food out, looking only for the things that wouldn't spoil. Canned and packaged foods, especially. They crashed against the linoleum floor, and she scooped them up into her arms.
Mark deposited a couple bags on the living room floor. Riley dropped to her knees, stuffing as much food into the backpacks as possible. Mark stood over her, hands fidgeting as the screams grew louder.
"Go, help Simmie!" Riley commanded. He stumbled into the bedroom, coming out with clothes in his arms. He started pushing them into a suitcase.
Riley started dashing around the house, collecting various items that they would need. Blankets, pillows, hair brushes, soap, toothbrushes, etc.
As the screams started escalating madly, Riley knew that the things had reached their floor. "Zip them up, come on!"
Simmie had tears running down her face, and she was trying to stick a picture in a frame into the over-stuffed suitcase.
"Stop, there's no time!" Riley grabbed the younger woman's arm, wrenching her away. She zipped it shut, handing it to Simmie.
Riley wrenched a knife from her belt and removed her gun from its holster. "On the count of three, I am going to open this door," she said clearly, staring urgently at her two friends. "I will try and hold them up; you two get to Simmie's car. No matter what, do not stop! Ready? One, two, three!"
Riley wrenched the door open, stepping out into the hall. There were at least three different corpses, each surrounded by a group of things, who were all actually eating the dead people.
"Oh my God," Simmie whispered, staring in wide-eyed horror.
One of the things that wasn't eating looked up, giving a growl and standing.
"Go, go, go, go!" Riley shouted, turning and shoving them towards the staircases at the end of the hall. One of the things lunged for Mark, but Riley quickly shot it just above the ear. Blood spattered everywhere as the thing dropped. "Don't stop!"
They sprinted for the door, and Riley killed two more before slamming the metal door behind them. The things clawed at the barricade, trying to get through.
"What are those things?" Mark breathed. Simmie put her hands on her knees as she vomitted.
Riley shook her head, panting heavily. "I don't know. But we can't stop. Come on." She turned and dashed down the abandoned stairs, Mark and Simmie following close behind. They made it to the ground floor in merely seconds, peeking through the little glass window in the door that led to the lobby. There were only a few things down on this floor, and Riley assumed that they had all ascended the other staircase, where the majority of...humans were.
"Ready?" Riley whispered. "One...two... three!" She kicked open the door, shooting the nearest one in the back of the head. She jumped over the body, tackling another one. Its hands pressed against her face, pulling at her skin. She pressed the barrel against its chin, making the thing suddenly lie still.
Riley leapt up to her feet, chasing after Mark and Simmie into the parking garage. Riley easily overtook them, shooting at a thing without stopping. They sprinted to Simmie's blue Ford Focus, Riley launching into the driver's seat.
"Keys, keys!" she demanded.
"I- I don't know!" Simmie cried, her hands spread wide as she slammed shut the passenger door.
"Are you- You've gotta be kidding me!" Riley screamed, kicking a thing that was reaching into the car before swiftly ending it. Mark jumped into the back seat, and Riley shut the door. "How the hell do you hotwire this thing?!" She leaned forwards, ripping off the plastic to reveal the wires.
"T-T-The red cord, grab it!" Mark stammered. Riley did as she was told. "Now, cut it and press it against the blue!"
Riley slid the hidden knife out of her left combat boot, trying to ignore the things beating on the windows. The red cut open, revealing the gold wires underneath. She frantically pressed the exposed wire against a blue one. Nothing happened.
"Come on! Please, please, come on!" she shrieked through gritted teeth, pressing them tighter.
The car jolted, giving a loud roar. Simmie screamed shrilly, the sound of breaking glass filling their ears. Riley shot back up, cracking her head painfully against the dashboard. "God-" she exclaimed, clutching the back of her head and slamming her foot on the gas pedal. She backed up sharply before throwing it into drive and running over a few of the things.
Riley booked it, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were drained of color. Everywhere, there were things chewing on people; people running away; militia gunning down anything in sight.
As Riley was speeding towards the edge of the city, she was stopped by two men in army uniforms. She rolled down the window.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What do you think you're doing?!" Riley shouted out the window, reaching in her pocket and flashing her credentials. "CIA, dimwits! Move, or I'll report your asses so fast you won't know what happened!"
They stepped back, overwhelmed for a second. The moment's hesitation was enough for Riley to slip away so fast that the wheels skidded and the end of the car veered. Riley quickly regained control, heading for the highway out. It was, of course, jammed.
Riley cut across the median, taking the other side of the road. She swerved, dodging corpses, things, and overturned cars.
With Riley driving at nearly one-hundred miles per-hour, it didn't take long to put Atlanta behind them.
It was dead silent in the car as they drove down a tiny, two-lane country road. Simmie was staring straight ahead, her normally-brown skin looking a light mocha under the tears slipping down her cheeks. Riley couldn't get a good look at Mark in the backseat.
The engine began to whine as the car slowed, no matter how fast Riley pumped the gas pedal. When they finally rolled to a stop, she muttered, "Tank's empty."
Nobody moved. The silence was deafening. Riley leaned her head against the steering wheel, struggling to compose herself. She had to be strong for Mark and Simmie. She had to be the one to take care of them, because they wouldn't last a day alone with those things.
"Come on, guys," Riley whispered, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat and repeated herself, opening the door and stepping out. She stared at the tiny road, surrounded by woods. As Mark and Simmie started to pull all the luggage from the car, Riley decided where they needed to go.
She leaned down and shouldered a duffle bag and a backpack. "Let's go."
The three of them entered the woods, heading up the hill.
