Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing even remotely related to The Walking Dead. I only own my own original characters.
What a mess. Everything, absolutely everything in this world had gone to shit. This whole ordeal seemed to start out of nowhere, too, and spread like wildfire. From the first news broadcast, it was about one week later that most cities and towns were evacuated. This, in all honesty, didn't make a whole lot of sense. If over half of the general population was being advised to leave there homes, where was anyone going to go? Roughly three days after that is when true panic and ruthless human survival mode kicked in and chaos was running rampant. Of course, most of the mayhem had died down substantially. But then again, that's because nearly everyone is dead; the initial feeding frenzy is over. That all happened a year or so ago now, at least that's anyone's best guess. A bit hard to keep track of days anymore.
Yet, some have managed to survive hell this long. Rhea being one of those lucky few. Lucky was a loose term at this point. She was certain almost everyone had at least entertained the thought of suicide at least once since the outbreak. Why not? The dead were crawling out of their graves and feasting on the living. Who wouldn't want that to just be over? But, Rhea dug deep within herself, pushing forward each day. Anyone knowing her before this all started would probably die of shock to know she was still among the living, not a mindless flesh-eater. People that were acquainted with her before regarded her as a spoiled little girl whose last name let her get and get away with anything she wanted. The Mob Brat. The mere thought of her former nickname made her roll her eyes, especially considering she was alive and well and they probably were not. Maybe having the last laugh wasn't the greatest accomplishment in the world, but these days, Rhea would take what she can get.
Rhea was currently slumped against a rough wooden wall, her back and head resting against it gingerly. She was trying to ignore the slight headache she had had for the past couple weeks. The world didn't stop for headaches; not before, not now. The sun was quite high in the sky, signaling it was around mid-day despite the fact that it was fairly overcast. Quite frankly though, Rhea was sick of sitting here literally twiddling her thumbs.
She poked her head out of the door and scanned at the ground two stories below where she was perched. As with most survivors, Rhea and her brother Evan could never find a place to stay for long periods of time. If nearby supplies didn't run out, it was overrun with the reanimated corpses. They had definitely travelled a lot farther than they ever thought they would need. But, just a two weeks or so ago they had stumbled onto what seemed like could be a haven for some time. When Rhea first saw it, she was ecstatic. Some kid probably was the first time he saw it too.
In rural Georgia, on an acreage behind a farmhouse, was a tree house that was in pretty decent condition. It was high off the ground and the only way to get up was by climbing a rope ladder. They didn't have to be too anxious if a biter was nearby, they were too high off the ground for them to be in danger. If there were only a few cadavers skulking around, Rhea and Evan would just pick them off one by one. And if there were a large group, they could just hide out in the tree fort, remaining undetected until they passed by. It certainly wasn't a Four Seasons, nor was it very big, but it served their purpose and gave them enough space to live semi-comfortably. At least, compared to places they have stayed before.
Evan was off in search of food by himself. He never let Rhea go with him, saying hunting was his job. Little did he know, occasionally she had been known to sneak out while he was gone to do some exploring of her own. There was a location about ten minutes away that was part of the reason they had travelled to Georgia. Evan really didn't want her going there alone; the place was swarming with biters. But sometimes she just couldn't help herself. Today was no exception.
Rhea peeked outside again, observing the area to see that it was clear of any obvious danger, and decided to go check the place out again to see if there were any changes. She suited up with her weaponry, a Glock 17 in a holster slung across her hips, a Smith & Wesson Model 3 .44 tucked into the back of her jeans, and a Pantera Magnum compound bow which she kept in hand with a buck knife in her front jean pockets. With one last look out, she lowered the rope ladder and climbed down, landing on the grass-covered ground with a 'thump.'
She knew she would have to be relatively quick, her brother usually only came back from his hunts closer to dusk, but sometimes he would come sooner. Getting her bearings, she headed directly southwest from the tree house, keeping her knees bent so she was crouching ever so slightly hoping to remain undetected by any creatures roaming about. One thing her previous lifestyle had taught her was how to be stealthy, how to move without being heard. It's definitely helped keep Rhea alive this far. Evan and his sister had done a fair amount of scouting this way since they set up camp in the tree house. She had a good idea of what to expect on the way, but she knew you can never really be certain. Her senses on high alert, all she could detect at the moment was some birds chirping off in the distance.
It was muggy out, the humidity in the air making Rhea's normally wavy brown hair frizz out. Brushing some of the long tendrils out of her face, she marched forward. She knew that she was getting close to her destination, and thus closer to the most dangerous part of her trek. The last couple minutes of getting to her destination was always chockfull of the undead wandering about, searching for their next meal. This time was no exception. About fifty yards ahead and to the left she spotted a biter, another one just a few steps behind. She loaded her bow, took aim and exhaled as she shot, hitting the thing right in the temple. The cadaver that was still standing noticed as his little undead pal hit the ground and flipped his head around, spotting Rhea. She wasted no time at all shooting another arrow right between its eyes.
Surveying the area and seeing it was now clear at the moment, she moved forward to wear the motionless corpses, tugging the arrows out of their half rotting skulls. Any kind of ammunition was of high value and if it could be retrieved after being used, that was an added bonus.
A twig suddenly snapped behind her and she he heard that trademark heavy breathing before she felt a cold hand graze her shoulder and grasp her hair. Letting out a small gasp, she tried desperately to slide the buck knife out of her pocket while fending off the foul smelling body. It kept pulling her hair as she arched her back and was pushing it away with her leg, the sound of the gnashing teeth causing her to panic. Twisting her body with full force, she managed to free herself from the biters grasp, taking a couple steps back quickly as it lunged after her. Rhea was finally able to get her buck knife, flip it open and shove it deep in the cadavers eye just as it close enough, blood gushing out as the lifeless body slumped to the ground for the last time.
Panting, she vigorously, thrashed her head around looking for another being that may be after her. Rhea inwardly scolded herself for not noticing that one before it was almost too late. She flicked her wrist, causing excess blood on her knife to slide off the blade. Deciding that didn't quite do the trick, she bent down and wiped the blade with the biters shirt hem, being careful to get the blood off so it didn't rust. Once she was satisfied, Rhea exhaled and started heading back in the direction she was originally headed.
The petite-framed girl smiled to herself when she saw railroad tracks up ahead, indicating that she had reached her destination. As she stepped onto the metal rails, she took in the building before her, the one she longed to be able to get inside. In the clearing before her stood West Central Prison. Perhaps, especially before the outbreak, a prison was not a place anyone was trying to get into. But Rhea had her reasons. Unfortunately for her, the entire yard, which was fenced into a few different sections, was swarming with the undead. Some were in prison suits, others in SWAT armor. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that Rhea and Evan could take them all on themselves. Well, maybe they could, but it sure wasn't something that they wanted to risk.
Faint voices were heard in the distance to Rhea's right, jolting her out of her train of thought. The voices were getting gradually getting louder and more distinct. Rhea concluded they were definitely belonged to male humans. If there was one thing she had learned throughout her life, it was to trust absolutely no one. That motto rang true especially now; the living could be just as dangerous as the dead.
Moving quickly, she crept in behind some tall bushes just behind the railroad tracks and ducked down. Sure enough, as the voices got closer she could make out two figures through the foliage and they were indeed two men.
As they came into the viewpoint of the prison, one of them started walking farther ahead slightly. "What a shame," came a thick southern drawl while the other man looked upon the building with obvious wonder. Rhea thought that maybe, just maybe, this could be her way to get what she wanted.
Author's Note: I have not written anything in a very long time. But this idea was kicking around in my head for so long I couldn't help but take a stab at writing it. That being said, any feedback you have would be more appreciated than you could imagine, especially any constructive criticism. I will warn you, I may be stretching out timelines from the TV series just to make more sense for my character/relationship development. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and what's to come!