Beth flipped back her frilly gray comforter, as she sat up in her bed. She looked around her room at the muted grays and versions of black and white and sighed. Same as always. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, her feet landing on the soft ebony rug that was near her shiny silver bed. She heard familiar calling and shouting outside and peeked her head out her window.
Her daddy was out in the field and she took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the scenery. The way the grass moved in the wind made it look like her father was walking through waves upon waves of soft silvery water. Beth sighed. What she wouldn't give to see the soft golds and greens that were supposed to belong to the plants around the farm. Her daddy used to tell her stories of the beautiful colors of the flowers back when she was little. Back when her mama was alive. Back when her daddy and her mama both could see colors.
Everyone knew the world was black and white. Colors were just a thing from long told myths about soulmates and destiny. Or that was what Beth had been told by her older sister, Maggie, when she'd been in a huff and looking to make someone mad. Beth had been four at the time, and had been crushed. She'd run crying straight to her daddy, and Hershel had scooped her up and held her close and told her all about the beautiful reds of the apples, and the deep greens of the pine trees. Beth had always loved hearing her daddy talk about the pretty reds and pinks of the flowers and fruits, but her favorite story (the story she could recite from memory even now at the age of seventeen) was the story of the blue, blue sky.
"Daddy…will I ever get to see color?" She'd ask every night as he tucked her little self in for bed.
"When you find the other half of your soul." Daddy would always reply.
"Like Mama is your other half?" He'd smiled down at her and nodded.
"Just like that sweetheart."
"I can't wait. I wanna share the colors with you…"
"You will sweetie. You will."
That had been before Mama had died, and Daddy's colors had disappeared. That was something the myths didn't tell you. When you met your soul mate, you got to see colors, but when they died…so did the colors. As if losing your other half wasn't sad enough, the dying of the colors would make Beth want to crawl in a hole and forget the world. She couldn't imagine losing something so beautiful as the deep brown of their piano (her daddy had always said it was a deep brown tinged with reds that made the old wood seem almost warm to the touch.) Beth just saw black.
Beth blinked as the warm sunlight hit her face and she smiled, soaking in the warmth.
"Bethy…get down here. We need you t'help with the horses. They're gettin' skittish. I think there might be some walkers in the woods." Beth sighed and gave a quick nod.
"I'll be right down." With that she turned and made her way to her dresser to get dressed.
It was shortly after Beth had learned about colors that the world seemed to go topsy turvy. She'd been eleven when she'd seen her first walker. At first everyone had thought it was just some virus and that people were just sick. By the time everyone had figured out this was something different; something serious, most of the world was ambling around as a lifeless corpse, wanting to eat anything that wasn't dead and decomposing.
Beth's dad had sat her down and explained (at first) that the people she saw in the woods were sick, and while they might not want to, they would hurt her if she got too near them (she was eleven after all, and the alternative was a bit garish for her little mind). When she'd been a bit older the world had come crashing down on the Greene household. Her mother, Annette had been out in the woods, searching for a calf that had escaped the fence, when she'd gotten bitten. She'd made it home, but had been in bad shape. They'd tucked her in bed, wrapped her arm and prayed. The fever, in the end, had taken her. Hershel had known the minute she'd gone. The blue and white handkerchief he'd had in his hands, smudged with red blood (turning brown with age) had turned black and white in the blink of an eye.
Maggie had taken Beth to her room where they'd cried while Hershel dealt with the remains of his once beloved wife. Beth had gone to bed that night promising her little fifteen year old self, that she was never falling in love. Losing someone in this kind of world was just too damn painful, colors or not.
That was how she found herself seventeen years old, helping out on her daddy's farm, still no colors to be seen, and content with life as it stood. She pulled on a shirt, vaguely wondered what color it might be if she could see them, and then made her way downstairs. She pushed the squeaky screen door open, and made her way down the front steps, her soft boots thunking against the hardwood. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail as she made her way across the field towards the old barn. She smiled as she looked up at it. Her daddy had built it for her mama when she'd been itty bitty, simply for the reason that her mama loved horses and they'd had no where to put any.
"Mornin' Daddy," She said as she entered the barn, walking up to the old man and giving him a gentle hug.
"Mornin', Bethy," He gave her a gentle squeeze. "I'm gonna need you to feed and pat down the horses. They're gettin' skittish and whinin'." He turned and picked up his pitch fork to start spreading the fresh hay along the floor of the first stable stall. "Maggie's cleanin' out the stalls, and I'm gonna' lay fresh hay. Hopefully we can get them quiet so they don't draw too much attention from them things walkin' the forest." He swiped some sweat off his brow. "This barn is good, but old. Too many of 'em and they'll bring it down to the ground." Beth nodded. He'd been telling her that since she was old enough to help with the horses when they worried.
She didn't know what it was about the horses. They could sense when there were more walkers in the woods around them than there normally were. It was like they could sense the danger, or maybe smell the rot of the corpses. Either way, it was helpful. The Greene family always knew when to bed down the horses, lock them up tight, and then hold up in the farmhouse for the night.
Beth picked up the canister of oats and horse feed by the big door of the barn and moved swiftly to the other stalls that had yet to be shucked out and relaid. She filled the bowls of the two horses still in their stalls. "You want me to use the feedin' muzzles for the two out of their stalls?" She called over her shoulder as she fetched said contraptions from their pegs hanging on the wall.
"Yeah. It's gonna take a me a few minutes to clean out the second stall and for Daddy to relay the hay," Maggie supplied.
Beth nodded and pulled down first one muzzle and then the other. She filled the little baskets up with feed and then gently pulled them over the heads of the horses. She adjusted one that was a tad loose and then patted the horse's neck fondly. The family had four horses, one for each of them and one that was her mother's before she had passed (it now technically belonged to Shawn, but he rarely liked to ride it.) The mare neighed softly and nudged her arm before contently munching on the oats and feed in its muzzle.
"I'll give you a bit more when your stall is all cleaned out," She said softly before picking up the brush and slipping it onto her hand. She started with her mama's (Shawn's) mare humming lightly as she worked and listened to her sister and daddy work. "So where is Shawn anyway?"
"Out huntin' and scouting the woods. Thinks he might be able to put down the walkers makin' the horses antsy," Maggie answered. She stood, arm propped up on the push broom she was using and then wiped her brow. "Don't know why he bothers. We've been fine lockin' everythin' up and hol'ing up in the house,but you know Shawn." She said with a smile. Beth nodded. She did know Shawn. From the time Daddy had taught him how to shoot he'd been rip roaring and ready to haul off into the woods and take down every walker he came across. He harbored a hatred so deep for the walkers because he knew that they were the things that had taken his mama away. His anger and hatred had seen him treed a couple times by a small herd, and Hershel had had to go out and rescue him. Hershel didn't like Shawn going out there, but figured it was better than having him causing a ruckus at the farm.
Beth secretly wondered if Shawn had been more devastated by their mother's death than anyone else. Something in him had seemed to snap, and he'd never been the same. Beth had watched the darkness grow in the back of his eyes and had stopped protesting when she caught him going out into the woods with their daddy's rifle (even after Hershel had told him not to.) She'd also started praying extra hard that God would bring him peace before he found himself hurt, because she had a sinking feeling he wouldn't be happy until he'd passed the point of no return. She didn't think she could handle having to bury her older brother at this point in her life…but with each passing day it seemed like he was standing with one foot firmly in the grave, and there was nothing Beth could do about it.
She sighed, turning her thoughts decidedly away from her brother. It wasn't something she was able to change and thinking about it just hurt her heart and made her feel helpless. She untethered Shawn's mare and led it into the stall that her father had just finished before turning and moving to the second horse. This horse (while still gray) was a light shade of gray, making Beth wonder if it was a light golden color much like the wheat they harvested once a year. A shot sounded and for a second the three Greenes stopped and listened. "Shawn musta found somethin'." Maggie said quickly when no other sound was heard after. She shrugged before sweeping the old hay completely out of the stall and to the front door, continuing on with her work.
"Dad!" A sharp cry pierced the peace in the barn and all three froze, their eyes intensely focused on one another. Maggie pushed the broom down, taking off in a run towards the front of the barn. Hershel shoved the rest of the fresh hay into the open stall, while Beth untether the horse before placing it into its stall. She latched it and followed quickly behind her father who was hot on Maggie's heels. All three exited the barn in time to see Shawn, running full tilt from the woods. "Dad!" He yelled again, his arms swinging wildly above his head. "Come quick!" One survey of Shawn's person had Beth's heart in her throat. He was covered in dark smudges of what she knew in her heart of hearts to be blood. From where she stood she couldn't tell if it was his or not, but she sent up a silent prayer hoping that it wasn't his.
She knew the second Shawn realized he had everyone's attention. He skidded to a stop just outside the fence and turned around, motioning with his arms for everyone to hurry up and that they were needed. Beth didn't even realize she was running until she was crouching through the wood beams lined with barbed wire that made up their fence. She dodged around the large stakes placed in the ground that often caught a walker or two before they could hit the fence and get ripped apart by the wire. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she tried to catch up, passing her daddy long before she'd even reached the fence. Her breath was slamming in and out of her chest as the fear bubbled up inside her.
"Shawn what happened?" She called out between gasping breaths as she jumped over logs and low lying shrubs. Maggie was ahead of her, but still behind Shawn.
"I fucked up Bethy." Was all she heard. Shawn's voice had never sounded like that. So scared, and vulnerable and sick. She'd also never heard him curse a day in her life. Those facts coupled with the alarming amount of blood on his shirt made her stomach pitch and she fought the feeling of nausea that hit her. She saw Shawn skid to a halt next to a group of people all crouched around something, but was still too far away to make out anything other than the fact that these people weren't walkers. She watched as Maggie dropped down and almost sighed at the relief that she was almost there. She had eyes only for the huddled group of people that her brother and sister were trying to help. She wasn't paying attention to anything else, just trying to get to the people to help (her mama had always taught her to help everyone you could).
Pain ricocheted through her shoulder as she tumbled to the ground. With a yelp she landed in a heap as something solid and definitely rotten smelling collided with her and followed her down to the earth. She scratched and clawed, her arms out in front of her as she tried to fight off the walker now snapping his rotten jaws in her face. She let out another shriek before she felt someone lift the weight away and saw her father. Shawn sank a knife into the skull of the walker and Beth tried to calm her breathing. She'd never come that close to a walker before and all the fear and adrenaline was making her dizzy. She rolled onto her side, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to calm down. She heard mumbles and murmurs, and worried words that floated around her mind. If she concentrated she was sure she'd know what they were saying; what had been so important for Shawn to come fetch them all in a way that had them all scared to death. She took half a steadying breath before shoving herself up into a sitting position and then she froze.
The sound of her heartbeat in her ears was deafening and it felt like she had cotton shoved inside her ears, but she knew that sound of gurgling moaning and groaning anywhere. Her eyes slammed open. "There's more comin' we gotta go." She cried, pushing herself to her knees. Her eyes flew to Maggie and she thanked God that her sister could see the very real fear buried in those glassy depths. "I can hear 'em. We gotta go!" She yelled again, not caring if she attracted more of them. They were already on their way, she wasn't going to bring anymore. She shoved against the ground, her chest still heaving as she watched the group of strangers before her.
For the second time in her life, Beth's world seemed to go topsy turvy as she surveyed the group. She couldn't put her finger on what was different until she saw the bright blossoming of red on the front of a young boys shirt, and Beth knew. Beth wobbled where she stood, her arm shooting out to the tree next to her, while she said a silent prayer that she would stay standing.
For the first time in Beth's life…at seventeen years old…Beth was seeing color. And it scared the living hell out of her.