Hey guys,
It's been a while since I've written a story. A LONG while, and this is in a completely different type of story...An actual story as opposed to my one-shots.
I may not be able to update frequently as I do have school and other such worries, but I will try my best.
Regards,
PassiveAggressive101
Please note that I own nothing, not the story, characters, or anything else. I don't even own the land I live on.
"At times, I think it was a mistake to stay here. After all, I literally had the world at my fingertips; a pilot willing to fly me away, friends who wanted me to go, money to blow in any way I saw fit, and more supplies than I could ever hope to carry.
"Yet here I am, wandering among the damned looking for a person I'm not sure is alive with an inherited companion I can't really control. To top it all off, I'm slowly running out of supplies.
"I hate Georgia. I always wanted to escape it. That's why I became a flight attendant; travel the world, see all it has to offer, take in the cultures of the world...Pretty much anything but go home. But of course, I have to know the fate of my brother. Of course I had to abandon my shot at salvation for the simple knowledge of knowing whether or not he and my niece are alive. I wouldn't be able to live in peace anywhere without knowing. Well, considering the deterioration of the world, I doubt I'd be able to live in peace anywhere, but definitely not without knowing whether they were alive or dead.
"I've lost track of the days. I don't think they really matter anymore.
"I wish I could organize my thoughts, I really do, but I haven't eaten in days and the Lucky has run off. If I don't find him...Well, nothing happens really, but I want to find him. He's the only not reanimated thing I've found in the unknown amount of time I've been heading towards Columbus.
"Any company, even if it's only the soft pattering of paw prints on the road, is welcome in a world ruled by the dead. But I'm sure if you're listening, you know what I'm talking about.
"My name is Taylor, by the way. Taylor Roberts. If you're heading towards Columbus and happen upon a dog, please take care of him. On the off chance I can't find him, or he can't find me, he responds to the name Lucky. He followed me to the end of the earth, I'm sure he'll do the same for you if you let him.
"Until next time, if there is a next time...to anyone listening, good day, good luck, goodbye."
Taylor switched off the walkie talkie. She doubted there was anyone listening (after all, she had found the bloody thing lying around), but it was always nice to talk. Being a flight attendant, you got use to making announcements; we're departing, we're landing, the emergency exits are located to your right... Maybe it was a habit, or maybe she was just desperately hoping that there was someone else like her; alive, coherent, not wanting to feast on the flesh of the living.
She jumped down off the roof of the SUV. She had a dog to find...Not that Lucky couldn't look after himself mind you (he was always bringing her back squirrels and such), it was more for Taylor's comfort. She picked up her oversized backpack which had slowly been getting lighter as time passed by and started walking down the road.
She had learned that stealth was possibly the most important thing for survival. If you can avoid being seen, you can avoid being eaten. Even though the walkers eyes had glossed over, they still could see you from a distance away. If they did see you, you were probably as good as dead unless you had the balls to decapitate it, or cause it some serious brain damage. If you can't, then a good pair of running shoes and a clear path was your best option.
Otherwise, a quick bullet to the head was probably your best bet. She sighed and touched the revolver holstered at her side. Seven chambers, but only four bullets left. Not that she'd used any. Not that the people who had could have bothered to pack more bullets on their way to their death.
'Whatever,' Taylor concluded internally, 'If push comes to shove, at least I can end it quickly,'. Being eaten was possibly the worst way to go.
Suicide was always an options.
Everyone was damned anyhow.
The road was littered with abandoned cars containing dead bodies, but one was ever sure if the dead were really dead. They seemed to play dead, only moving when they caught scent or sight of the living.
Daryl revved the engine on his recently inherited motorcycle, leading the way through the makeshift graveyard. The sun was beginning to set and the group would need to find someplace to sleep soon, preferably off the beaten path.
That's when he spotted it in the distance. A big dog carrying what looked like a squirrel in it's mouth, walking the same way the group was going. He looked into the RV, and sure enough Dale had spotted it too. Daryl slowed his motorcycle and allowed himself to get level with the drivers side of the RV.
"Ever seen an infected mutt?" He asked the older man, already considering if he could hit it with his crossbow. The dog was roughly 100 feet away...
"No," Dale replied, keeping his eyes on the dog. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible." The dog turned having heard the engines. It seemed to sniff the air before starting to trot towards the pair. The RV slowed to a halt while Daryl jumped off his motorcycle and aimed at it.
"Don't go shooting it before you know if it's infected!" Dale called out to him. Andrea appeared in the passenger seat.
"Easy for you to say," Daryl replied, levelling his crossbow. "You're inside the fucking RV, it ain't gonna go after you!"
"For God's sake Daryl, the thing looks harmless! Let it be." Andrea called, taking a seat while shaking her head.
The dog sat down a few feet in front of Daryl, sniffed the air again and began wagging it's tail. It slowly closed the gap between them before dropping the squirrel to the ground, almost like a peace offering.
"It's got to belong to someone." Dale noted. "It looks too well fed and groomed to have been a stray for long. Looks like it's got a collar, too."
Daryl knelt down on his knee and inspected the collar while the dog attempted to lick his hand. "Mutt's name is Lucky," he called before standing again. The dog's ears perked up at the sound of it's name before abruptly turning and walking in the direction it had come from. It stopped and looked over it's shoulder before continuing.
"What's the hold up?" Rick appeared at the side of the RV, looking towards Daryl for answers.
"Thought the mutt was infected." Daryl explained briefly, pointing to where the dog was disappearing to. "Thing marched right up to me before turning it's ass around."
"The dog looks like it's being looked after, Rick." Dale chimed in. "We might have another survivor on our hands."
Rick ran a hand through his hair. "It's going in the same direction we are. If we happen across it's owner, we'll stop. If it trails off our path, we leave it." He decided. "We should keep going." Daryl shrugged and hopped on his motorcycle, revving the engine before tailing the dog.
An inhuman growl startled Taylor out of her peaceful walking daydream. She turned to her right, and sure enough a walked had turned it's inhuman eyes towards her.
'How the fuck did I not see that,' she thought to herself, taking out her machete. She let out an unsteady breath. 'Aim for the head, aim for the head, remember aim for the head. Don't let it bite you...' Her internal monologue went off as the thing lurched towards her.
'Male, mid 20's. Bloody staining it's plaid shirt. Sandals, khaki shorts. Probably just heading off for a vacation before he was overrun by walkers, bitten and left for dead. Or maybe he was making a fruitless escape attempt. He probably had a family; girlfriend, dog, hopes, dreams, aspirations. Maybe he had wanted to cure cancer, maybe write a book...'
Taylor shook the thoughts out of her head. She had to stop giving them back stories, humanizing them. It made them so much harder to kill.
'He's wearing a wedding ring'. Taylor took a deep breath in. The thing was only a few feet away now. Her hands were shaking and clammy, she hadn't had to kill one for days.
She lifted the machete over head head and hit the top of it's skull. With a sickening crack the walker fell to it's knees, giving Taylor a chance to dislodge her machete before it finally collapsed. She gagged at the smell before something licked her free hand. With a smell shriek she turned.
"Lucky," she sighed, taking in a shaky breath. The dog look at her with it's big brown eyes, wagging it's tail, not knowing that she had just taken a walkers life. "Where'd you run off to?" As if responding to her question, the dog turned and looked over it's shoulder.
That's when she spotted them. Headlights. With the sun setting and darkness falling rapidly, she was surprised she hadn't noticed them. A motorcycle, an RV and a jeep from the looks of things.
A thousand thoughts immediately ran through her brain. 'They could be friendly,' was the first, closely followed by 'or they could be cannibals running out of food'. She turned to glare at the dog. "If I get eaten by these people because of you," she warned the Shepherd, "I assure you, I will find a way to reanimate and eat you."
And I'm going to leave it there for tonight. Please give me some feedback; am I doing good, bad, horrid? Do I capture the characters in any way? Do I suck?
I do have a backstory for Taylor which will reveal itself in the next few chapters via flashbacks to the beginning of the outbreak, and what she means by her opening statement. I didn't want to overload you guys!
Thanks for reading, please review!
