1: First Impressions
When Suzie Jackson stumbled into the campground—literally stumbled, tripping over a tree root and getting tangled up in a line of cans—she was greeted by about six guns, two baseball bats, a tire iron, and a crossbow.
There had been screaming, yelling, people frantically running in the other direction. It was quite the welcoming party.
Suzie couldn't say that she blamed a single one of them.
She hadn't had the opportunity to bathe in about three weeks, not since they'd left the coast. Dirt, grime, and dried blood and sweat coated her skin in filthy layers. The few strands of her hair that weren't horribly tangled and matted against her scalp hung limp and were lackluster, to say the least. She wouldn't be surprised to know that she easily passed for one of the dead.
The sad part was, with the exception of Abby, she looked more alive than anyone in her group.
Hearing the screams and shouts, they rushed out of the trees, their own weapons raised, calling her name. Now, they stood, frozen, stunned into silence by the sight of honest-to-Christ living people, all of whom were either about to kill her or were running away screaming. Many of the weapons moved away from Suzie and some of the focus was placed on her family.
Suzie's breath was caught in her chest. She stared, wide eyed, down the sights of a crossbow. The man holding it had his lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze was steady. Tension coiled through his body, and he looked totally prepared to pull the trigger and end her existence. She was terrified.
"Christ, if y'all are gonna shoot us, just do it already. This anticipation is givin' me heartburn," Abby said, breathlessly.
A man with dark, curly hair stepped a bit closer to Suzie, his 9mm still pointed at her head.
Stumpy stepped between them. "She ain't dead, y'fool," he growled, his own handgun gripped in his good hand. "Would sure 'preciate if y'all would quit actin' like she is."
The man flicked the safety on his gun and holstered it at his side. He offered a small smile and a hand to Stumpy. "You're gonna have to forgive us for mistakin' her for one of them."
"Don't have to do nothin'," the older man said, his eyes flicking to the sheriff's deputy logo on the front of the man's black t-shirt. "You a pig?"
"Now, Stump, that ain't any way to thank these good folks for their hospitality," Abby snarked. She wobbled on her feet. Bobby's arm shot around her waist, anchoring her to his side.
The screaming and running had stopped about the time that Abby had opened her mouth the first time, and the people in the campground had started to gather around the small, haggard group. A bony woman with long brown hair pushed past the cop and hurried up to Abby. She placed a gentle arm on the young woman's arm
"My God, you look like you're about to fall over. Let's get you settled in the shade."
She led Abby and Bobby into the campground, through the crowd, which parted to give them a wide berth. Stumpy cussed and followed, giving Suzie a look over his shoulder that clearly said, 'Stay put!'
Slowly, the weapons were lowered or discarded. With the exception of the crossbow, that is.
"That's an awfully pretty lil crossbow you've got there," Suzie had drawled, the first words she'd spoken since tripping over that damn tree root. She tried smirking at the rough-looking man, hoping to charm him into lowering his weapon.
He grunted.
"You gonna keep pointin' it at my head?"
"Yer covered in blood. It yours?"
There it was then. He hadn't come right out and asked, but with the tone of his voice, the way he was still drawn up tight as the string on his bow, he may as well have.
There were two questions that everyone seemed to ask everyone else in this new world: "Where are you going?" and "Are you infected?" There were variants, of course, but the jist was all the same. Will I be joining you, or will I be killing you?
Suzie glanced down at her body. He was right. She was covered in dried blood, some of it flaking off. Most of it came from the dead that she'd put down on their trek through Hell, but some of it was hers, from various scrapes and abrasions. Most of them she'd gotten as they'd hurried through the woods towards the campground. But who knew? Maybe one of those dead bastards had managed to scratch her. She wasn't sure, and had been playing a game of Wait-and-See.
"Some," she answered his question honestly. "Most of it's from them. Ain't bit though."
"Scratched?"
She shrugged.
His finger caressed the trigger for a moment.
"Damn, little brother, put tha damn thing down."
A tall man in a leather vest stepped between Suzie and the bolt aimed for her forehead. He had a military buzz cut, and stubble lined his hard jaw. His bare arms were huge, the skin pulled taut over the heavy muscles. Something in his face unnerved Suzie for a moment. This man and his 'little brother' were very obviously men who were not to be fucked with.
"Girl's just fine." He turned a saccharine grin on her, dripping with false charm. "Ain't'chu, girl?"
She nodded quickly.
"Good, good," he said. "Would hate for Daryl to haveta use that 'awful perty lil crossbow' a' his."
He chuckled, and Daryl glared.
"Fuck you, Merle."
His eyes met hers, and she almost couldn't breathe again. She could feel him judging her, appraising her. Slowly, he lowered the crossbow. His eyes held hers a moment longer, and she saw the warning there. When they slid away, she took a gasping breath.
He turned and stomped off to a small tent at the edge of the campsite. Suzie watched him go, and he looked back at her over his shoulder once. Merle coughed and got her attention again. His smile when he looked at her this time was genuine, and there was a mischievous sparkle in his icy blue eyes.
"Well damn, girl, seen roadkill a week old what looked better'n you."
She tried to give him her best glare, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She opened her mouth to reply but Stumpy was back at her side, tugging on her arm. She allowed him to pull her away, calling to Chug to hurry his ass up. The man was leaning on a branch, using it as a crutch as he limped along after them.
The "bench" under the tree was really nothing more than the front seat of an old pickup truck. Its leather was cracked, and foam bulged out of a hole in the side, but as Stumpy settled Suzie on it, she had the thought that it must be heaven sent. Her feet ached from the miles they'd walked, and it felt too good to get off of them. She groaned in relief, stretching her legs out in front of her.
They'd been walking a couple of days. Stumpy's truck had broken down just south of Macon. Bobby could have fixed it, with all the right tools, a few new parts, and about three or four days. They didn't have any of that though, so the five of them had crammed themselves into Bobby's old beat up GTO.
It was only a few miles back, outside of a small town, that the GTO had sputtered its last breath. Bobby had cried, hunched over the steering column. They'd all done their best to give her brother some space to mourn, getting out of the car and stretching their legs, scouting the immediate area for supplies. Staying in one place for any amount of time, much less one so exposed and out in the open, was suicide these days, and so after Bobby had pulled himself together, they unloaded the car. The men had make quick work of sorting out the essentials, like food and the first aid kit, from the luxuries, like Abby's favorite book and Suzie's strawberry scented shampoo.
They'd shouldered the much lighter packs, and started walking. The going was slow, on account of Chug's bum leg, and each mile was like a nightmare. The close calls were way too many, and Bobby and Stumpy argued about whether or not to continue on to the fabled safe zone in Atlanta or just go home.
At the rest stop, Abby had found the map with the campground on it, up near a quarry. Water, she'd said. Possible safety, for a time. A place to rest and regroup before making the final push into Atlanta. It'd made sense to Suzie, and apparently to Stumpy too, because he'd looked at the map for a couple of minutes then headed off into the woods. The rest of the group had no choice but to follow him.
Abby laughed at her groan and passed her a half full water bottle. Suzie pulled the lid off and gulped greedily. She handed the bottle over her shoulder, back to Bobby, and he took a small sip, before giving it back to Abby. Abby rolled her eyes and chucked it in Stumpy's direction without taking another drink.
The bony woman knelt in front of Suzie, and took her face in her thin hands and tilted it this way and that. Suzie was too exhausted to pull away from the inspection and just allowed the woman to look her over. She clucked her tongue, rubbing a thumb over a scratch under Suzie's left eye.
"You all look like you've been through Hell."
Suzie was quiet a long moment, staring into this strange woman's face. She felt the laugh slowly bubbling up at the back of her throat and tried to contain it, but couldn't. It spilled out in short, frantic bursts, and Suzie brought a hand up to cover her mouth.
The woman was taken aback. She looked over Suzie's shoulder at Bobby, as though trying to ask him without words if Suzie was all there in the head.
Suzie just kept laughing hysterically. Suzie laughed until it hurt. Laughed until she cried. Laughed until she couldn't laugh anymore, and she just cried.
Hell was the understatement of the century, as far as she was concerned.
A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter of Little Sparrow. Please let me know what you think! All reviews are welcome! Also, if anyone is interested in being a beta, I've got a spot open! Just shoot me a message! Again, thank you again for reading.
