'Ello there. I promise that, while the story may not seem original at the get-go, it will be. Starting from the beginning, we are going on an adventure that will NOT follow the full plot of TWD series. Some character's that have died may live and vice versa. After my other story Biter, I needed this. Please give it a shot and enjoy.
The seven month old Doberman pincher in the back seat of her 2004, hot red mustang whined again. Esme' awkwardly reached her arm towards the back, feeling a wet tongue lap at her palm as she did. She cooed from the driver's seat, "I know baby, it's hot and you're thirsty. Just hold on until I can get us out of here."
They were bumper to bumper in heavy traffic – traffic that just wasn't moving, hadn't moved in over an hour. She'd idled for a long while, refusing to turn her car off in the hope that they'd be moving along soon, but one look at the gas hand, and it's uncomfortably low position, had forced her to roll down both windows and turn the car off, subjecting her and the canine to the brutal Georgian heat.
What the hell am I even in doing here, she wondered. Ah yes, it was all for the promise of sand beneath her feet and a Florida time-share all to her, and her four-legged child's, self. It had been a brash decision on her part to suddenly decide on an impromptu vacation four states down from her own in Virginia.
She'd originally planned on flying, but that little bubble of comfort had popped once she'd looked at her bank statement. By that time she'd already groveled and begged her Dad and step-mom for their permission to use the time-share property. She hadn't needed to grovel, but she wasn't the type to ask for favors naturally. It felt too much like relying on someone for something she could work hard for herself.
But this trip… it was something she desperately needed. She was only 25, but life had drained her of almost every ounce of strength and sanity she possessed. Her entire existence revolved around helping others, so much so, she often failed to look after herself.
The dog whined again, a long, slow howl of misery. Trusting that traffic really wasn't going anywhere, she sighed, "Okay, hold on." Out of habit, she pulled the keys from their place and swung open the car door. It wasn't like anyone was going to be able to steal the car, even if they wanted to, but she felt more comfortable pocketing the keys than leaving them in the ignition.
After a small struggle getting out of the low hung vehicle, she stretched – seriously, this is not the right car for someone with long legs. Esme' rubbed the back of her numb thighs absentmindedly and looked out at the traffic both in front and behind her. Damn, that's a lot of fudging cars.
There were a few others standing beside their vehicles; some were conversing with their fellow companions while some talked with unlucky stranger's also caught in the gridlock, trying to figure out what was going on and hoping for answers. She could do with a few of those herself.
Esme' never listened to the radio, she rarely had the time for television, and she wasn't one to keep up with current had no clue as to what was going on, but it made her uneasy to see the packed to the brim vehicles – they can't all be going on vacation- and the frantic faces around her. A couple of people were crying and hugging each other, a few looked hollow and empty, some, like her, just seemed outright confused.
Now that she was out of the privacy of her own vehicle, she noticed how disturbing the scene around her really was. Is that paint or…blood? The hood of the mini-van directly behind her was coated in red, coagulating smears, hand prints. The driver was an older woman, white as a sheet and staring vacantly ahead. She didn't seem to notice Esme's curious gaze. The woman's mouth was moving, but Esme's couldn't see any other passenger's in the van. Maybe there was a child in there, just out of view.
She shook her head as the Doberman whimpered, reminding her of her task. Right, water. She'd stocked up as much as she could with non-perishables before she'd left her home. Her bank figure had loomed over her head as her grand plans of a revitalizing trip came into realities focus.
Eating out wasn't an option, unless it was off of a dollar menu (which was never really just a dollar). Food and drink prices were outrageous and Esme' hadn't wanted to use more money than necessary on this impromptu vacation of hers when there were free items at her house to take. Of course, she knew she'd have to buy a little extra once she'd reached her destination, but that was more manageable than stocking an empty fridge all in one go.
She put her hand in her shorts pocket, felt for the familiar button she needed, and popped the trunk. Honestly, she was impressed with her mother's monstrous talent of cramming too much into an impossibly tiny space. She'd be great at Tetris, she thought, offhandedly surveying the small trunk which was fit to burst. She'd made a point to put the case of water bottles close to the front – she had a dog that would need it, after all.
They were already down a quarter, but there were plenty left for the rest of the trip – if they ever got going again. She grabbed one, paused in thoughtfulness, and then grabbed two more; one for herself, one or her baby, and a spare just in case. Satisfied, she pulled the trunk down with a whomping 'thunk'.
With the back of her, now occupied, hand, she wiped away the sweat trickling down her forehead. This is what I get for staying cooped up every day in the air-conditioning, no heat tolerance.
She went back to the front door, the Doberman eyeing her every move. She maneuvered the three water bottles into the crook of her left arm to free up her right hand to tug on the handle.
She slid into the driver's seat before depositing her load onto the already, empty bottle, filled passenger seat. With her feet still hanging outside she had more room to contort her body and snake away the water dish she'd left in the floor of the backseat. A large, but not full grown body shifted in anticipation behind her, rocking the small car. "Hold your horses, you big miniature pony."
He'd been a gift from her father and step-mother. Esme' had often joked about stealing their adult male Doberman, Josh. He was a gentle-giant that would let you do just about anything to him.
When Josh had fathered a litter of six, Esme' had been given first choice – for free. She'd loved all of the puppies, but after sitting in the kitchen floor, being chewed on by little Paraná teeth for a day, she'd known exactly which one was meant for her. It was a male bruiser; he'd been stand-offish even with his siblings, preferring to sleep alone while the others lay lumped on top of one another.
It had been while five sets of jaws worked her over mercilessly that one set had crawled behind her, used her as a shield, and gone to sleep, that she'd made her choice. She'd laughed at the cowardice, but had felt her heart tug at his innate trust in her to protect him. She had protected him, of course, the proof of said protection lying in the tiny pinpoint scars on her arms.
Later that night, the two of them alone, she'd whispered his name in his big floppy ear, and the rest, as they say, fell into history.
The memory of their destined meeting made her smile as she placed the dirt-crusted bowl in her lap – should have cleaned the bottom before we left – and poured the contents of the bottle into it. He'd have to pee soon, but that was a problem for later. Speaking of having to go, she needed to as well. A problem for a later time; she could hold it.
She thought about pulling her feet in and closing the door, but the radio had become nothing but harsh static by the time she'd had the wither all to find out what was going on. She really had no idea and that didn't sit well with Esme'.
Turning to look at the black and rust Doberman, already lapping at the water she'd handed him, she said, "Mama will be back in a minute. Stay put and don't talk to strangers." She wasn't crazy, that last line had been a joke, mostly. The dog was too friendly for his own good. So much for stereotypes, he'd let in a burglar if it meant a belly rub.
She shoved herself out and up. She wasn't going far, but she hated to leave him alone and unsupervised, Doberman's weren't cheap and if someone wanted to spirit him away for a buck, he'd be an easy target. Belly rubs, she thought. Still, she needed to know what was going on and, his ears are all wonky anyways, probably won't get stolen.
After one last glance, she made her way to the minivan, the one with blood on it – hope I'm wrong. The older woman was still moving her lips to seemingly no one. It was a put off, but Esme' figured if anyone had an idea of what was going on, it would be her.
She steeled herself and, careful to come off as unthreatening, knocked lightly on the minivans passenger window.
The car wasn't running and Esme' briefly wondered how in the heck the woman could handle the heat, but she didn't wonder long. The woman had jumped, almost two feet in the air, at her knock. She'd scrambled further away from the sound, bunched up against the driver's door. She was sweating profusely and her eyes were wild, unfocused as they flit around. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
Those wild eyes finally settled over Esme's form. Esme', for her part, tugged her lips into a soft, unthreatening smile. "Hi," she called, somewhat loudly, waving at the woman in an attempt to calm her, "I'm Esme', I just was trying to see if someone knew what was going on?"
It took a moment for the woman to visibly calm down. She seemed haunted, hunted. It was honestly alarming. Esme' didn't know what to make of it.
Slowly, wearily, the woman reached for her keys in the ignition. With some hesitation, she turned them. The minivan roared to life. With even more hesitation, the woman lifted a shaky hand to the driver's side door. She pressed one of the buttons there and held it for no more than a split second, just enough to crack the passenger window a hair's breath.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Esme' asked, craning her neck to put her ear as close to the window crack as she could, "I can't hear you."
The woman's voice was low, and rambling, "Dead, he was dead. Just….after me….no pulse. Alive…dead. Eating….oh God…eating…Margaret, oh God, Margaret!"
There were only a hand full of words that Esme' could make out before the woman broke down in sobs. They were grief stricken and full of fear. Esme' lingered on, perturbed and even more confused. She didn't quite follow what had happened, but she didn't feel right about asking more of the woman who was now sobbing uncontrollably.
Feeling highly uncomfortable she mumbled, "Sorry," then she spoke more clearly, "Thank you." She walked away feeling more on edge than she had been. A dead man who wasn't dead? A woman named Margaret…whatever happened, Margaret is dead…probably?
She quickened her pace, wanting nothing more than to be in the comfort of her own car with her four-legged baby. He was waiting for her, one ear up, the other bent down in its floppy, hopeless way.
His inquisitive face, one rust eyebrow raised, put her more at ease. He probably needed to pee now. They hadn't moved, no one had, so she grabbed for his leash. Esme' hooked his collar to the leash, pushed her seat forward and coaxed her baby out, "Come on sweetie, you can do it."
The almost full grown puppy hesitated. Big baby, "Come on, it's okay. Hop down, you got this." Her prompting worked as he clumsily climbed out. She brightened, "Good boy! Mama is so proud!"
She realized she'd become one of those people entirely too wrapped up in their pets life. Oh geez, I've become my sister.
Her older sister had three dogs of varying sizes and, more times than not, posted pictures of them, in various states, on her social media site like a proud parent.
Esme' hadn't gone quite that far, but that was probably because she couldn't. Her sister also had been given a free Doberman, the runt, by Esme's father. Her sister had lied to her own father about where the dog had come from, claiming it was in a box on some street.
They were technically half-sisters, but Esme's father had raised them both until her mom's second divorce. Esme's father and her older sister, Nichole, were only just on good terms. The dog had been a way of winning Niki back, a prompt on Esme's part to her lost father. It had worked well, better than she'd expected.
She missed them all very much at that moment, completely regretting her decision to leave the state.
"At least I have you," she spoke out loud to the dog that was currently sniffing the grass of the medium. He cocked his one good ear, peered at her, and then went back to sniffing.
She held the leash tight, trying, with all her might, not to let him pull her too far from the car. She didn't want to be that A-hole who kept up traffic when it started again.
He was too strong for her though, over sixty pounds already. He dragged her further ahead even as she yelled, "Hey, wait! Stop! Mommy's pace, we go at mommy's pace!" They didn't though, they never did. She just did manage to press the automatic lock button on her keys before she was pulled away.
Up ahead there were even more people out of their vehicles. They all seemed to be so very agitated and jumpy that when her pleas for her baby to stop caught their ears, they swiveled around, alert and weary. She lost count of how many apologetic smiles she'd given out.
Along the way she heard a small voice ring out in excitement, "Cool! Mom, can I go pet him?"
She smiled at the child's enthusiasm. It was funny how everyone's default assumption was that it was a 'him'. Not that they're wrong.
She heard a feminine voice say doubtfully, "Baby, I don't know if that's a good idea."
Esme' perked up, guiding her wayward son over to the family of three. She almost hesitated at the sight of the man in a police uniform holding a shotgun; he was standing just off to the side of the woman and her child. He didn't seem to mind her or the dog, as he glared out at the tree line.
Plucking up her nerve she walked closer, "It's alright, he's friendly."
The boy was so excited he almost seemed to bounce out of his skin. She added, for the benefit of the mother, "He's good with kids."
It was true; her child really seemed to settle down around the presence of miniature human beings. She'd been worried, at first, when her friend had brought her nephew over. It was the first time the puppy had seen a small human and he was still teething at the time. He was not above nibbling on an arm bone, given the chance.
But he'd been excellent with the three year old. He'd crawled into her lap, almost frightened by the toddler, and hadn't used his teeth once; she'd been so proud of him.
The mother nodded, "Alright Carl, you can pet him. What do you say?"
The kid called out a distracted, "Thank you!"
The two came towards her, the mother slowly, the boy bounding towards them quickly. Esme' smiled pleasantly, "Welcome."
As he got closer the boy realized, seeing his stature and the dog's together, that he was at a disadvantage. Carefully he reached out a hand for the big puppy to sniff, which he did. Good, knows what he's doing not to startle him. Esme' waited patiently for her baby to do what he always did, roughly push his head into the boy's stomach, willing him to pet him.
They all laughed at the action when it happened, the boy almost tumbling over. It was too friendly of a gesture for the boy or his mom to be worried any longer.
"Carl, I think someone wants a good rubbing." The boy's mom said, all smiles.
The boy, Carl, obliged, almost roughly. Won't hurt him, she thought, remembering the many times the canine had tripped himself up and walked away unscathed.
"I'm Lori," the feminine voice said. Esme' looked up at the tall, slight woman; she was holding her hand out. Esme' took it and shook, "Esme'."
The women nodded at one another; it was a pleasant greeting.
"What's his name?" the boy asked, still petting.
"Zeus." She answered, proud of her canine son for being so darn friendly and well behaved around kids.
Esme' resisted the urge to grill the frail woman and her son, who was now on his back getting wet, sloppy kisses. She had not gotten the answer's she wanted and seeing that the woman was noticeably on edge, she thought she might have some information. Lori appeared quite a bit saner than the last woman she'd tried to question.
She hummed, almost releasing the volley of unasked questions, but hesitated, the words lingering on her tongue. Lori eyed her, reading her trapped expression, "What is it?"
Esme' edged away from the boy and her dog, as far as the leash wound around her hand would allow, "I… uh," she paused as her carefully picked words came undone.
Lori leaned in, "You don't know what's happening, do you?"
Esme' shook her head, "No, we've been driving all night and day and I don't listen to the radio. By the time I realized something was wrong, there was nothing but static. Cell phones dead, too."
She lowered her voice, aware that there was a small mind present, "The woman behind me… her minivan was smeared with bloody handprints. I thought it was paint when I first caught sight of it, but it wasn't. I could tell by the smell. I tried to talk to her, but-"she broke off, shaking her head, "She was in bad shape. I couldn't make out half of what she said. Something about a dead man not being dead and eating, and then she just broke down. I didn't want to upset her any more than that so I didn't press the subject."
The dark haired woman nodded along to her story, "I don't know how to say this, honestly it sounds crazy, but I think you really need to know what's going on."
She leaned in closer, almost whispering in Esme's ear, "There's a virus. People are going crazy and attacking other people, biting them. They don't stop, they just keep biting and… eating whoever they come across. No one knows why, but, before the news cut out, they were warning people to get away from the city, or just stay inside. I haven't seen much myself, but the man up there-" she nodded towards the antsy man with the shotgun, "his name is Shane, he saw things, said it was bad."
As an afterthought, she added, "He's a family friend and a police officer back in our hometown. He's the one that got Carl and I outta there."
Esme' was shocked, "Did you say… eating people?"
Lori looked grim, but she nodded in the affirmative, "Awful, I know, but that's what I've heard."
It was the rough tug of her canine companion that forced Esme' out of her shocked stupor. She almost tripped over Carl trying to get the dog under her command. He had finished playing with the boy and nature was at work. She smiled apologetically at the Boy and his mom, "Sorry, he's really gotta go."
Carl made a noise of disappointed protest, but quieted down after his mom slung an arm over his shoulder and said, "It was nice to meet you and-" she grinned at the Doberman puppy who was doing a fine job at pulling Esme's arm out of the socket, "Zeus. We'll let you get back to your walk."
Esme' felt her feet lose their hold on the ground. As she stumbled forward she replied, "It was nice to meet you both and thank you."
Lori started to walk backwards, back to their vehicle, pulling her reluctant son along with her, "You two be safe. It doesn't look like we'll be going anywhere any time soon so if you need anything, come and find us."
Esme' raised her free hand in an appreciative wave, "Will do."
She allowed herself to be pulled away from the duo as they headed back for the road. She mulled over the new information she'd received as Zeus did his business. People biting people, eating them, infecting them; sounds like a freaking zombie movie.
The sky was beginning to set when her companion dragged her further ahead, bringing her over to an older black gentleman who was quietly cursing at the truck pulled off onto the medium. The hood was up on the rustic vehicle, smoke billowing out of the engine he was leaning over, oily rag in hand.
As they got closer she heard him more clearly, "Damn thing just got back from the shop. That Eddy don't know jack-shit. I knew I shoulda taken it to Earl, but… shit… Eddy's got kids that need feedin."
Esme' refrained from chuckling at the one-sided conversation. Instead she twirled her hand around the leash, shortening it as Zeus pulled her closer to the cursing gentleman. For some reason, he was adamant about reaching the older man.
Digging her heels into the ground she called out to the wayward dog, "Hey, stop that. Seriously, calm down."
She'd gotten the attention of the graying man. He looked up from the engine and focused his sights on her, then the dog. He wasn't frowning exactly, but he seemed to straighten up.
"Sorry," she apologized for the third time that day, "It looks like he wants to come over and say hi."
The man scrutinized the miniature horse for a moment, then asked, "He the friendly sort?"
"Sure is." She answered, defaulting to her mother's southern twang.
He nodded at her, "Alright then. Bring 'im on over."
She did, or more like, he brought her on over. Once they were in range, Zeus began sniffing at the man's left jean pocket.
Realizing that he really was friendly the man grinned, "Well now, I think I know why he about dragged you over here; looks like someone smells some treats."
He reached into his pocket and produced four dog biscuits. Esme' laughed, "Looks like it. Can't say his nose is bad, that's for sure."
The man, probably in his late sixties, laughed along with her, "Sure as hell can't."
He reached down, slowly, and rubbed under the canine's chin, "What say your mamma there boy, can ya have some?"
Esme chuckled again when the dog turned his pleading gaze on her, "He can."
The man could have been in one of those dental commercials, she thought, as a white toothed grin covered the lower half of his face, "Hear that, boy? Mamma gave the go ahead. Here ya go."
She watched him hold out his hand, palm up, as Zeus took all four of the goodies into his mouth, "I think you just made a friend for life."
The man chuckled, "Seems so. He's a good one, I can tell. I'm Frank, by the way."
He wiped his hand, the one that had been holding the biscuits, on his pants before offering it to her. She stepped closer to shake it, "Esme'. You always keep treats in your pocket?"
He shook his head, "My son's wife has a little dog, a yappy thang; I keep treats on hand when I visit. Just happens that I was there earlier to pick up my grandson."
He nodded his chin in the direction of the truck. She followed the movement with her eyes, noticing for the first time, the young teenager sitting in the passenger seat. She waved to the boy, but he made no effort to return the gesture. He was rocking in the seat, eyes trained forwards.
The old man answered the unspoken question, "Sorry 'bout that, he's autistic. Don't socialize much."
"I have a nephew who's autistic, he's the same way."
The man nodded thoughtfully, "Good kid, but after my son passed he got even more withdrawn. Figured I'd give his momma some time to grieve and try to draw 'im out."
Esme' didn't know what to say besides, "I'm sorry to hear about your son."
His brown eyes clouded over, "He' in the Lords hands now."
A silence fell over the two. Esme' broke it by gesturing to the truck, smoke still rising out of it, "I'm not much of an expert, but I'd say you're having some trouble."
The man, Frank, snapped out of his daze, "Yeah, damn things been a thorn in my side. Got it fixed 'bout a week ago, but she ain't budgin' now. Don't think a tow-truck gonna be much help with things the way they are righ' at the moment."
Esme' considered what he'd said and then what Lori had told her. If the woman was right, it was not a good time to be out in the open with a busted truck. She pursed her lips, debating.
After a moment she began, "I know we just met and all-" she tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, "but if you two need a lift, I've got a mustang a little ways back. It's not big, but it'll get you where you need to go until things get sorted out."
Frank rubbed at the dog's ears, "You sure that's somethin' you'd be willin' to do?"
She didn't hesitate, "Yeah, it's the least I could do after we robbed you of your treats."
He laughed, "Well, I ain't one to look a gift horse in the mouth-" he looked back at the boy still rocking gently, "and with my grandson with me, I can't afford to."
Esme' understood. In all honesty, she didn't know if she would have suggested the offer if the boy wasn't with them; she wasn't the type of person to pick up strangers on the highway, too much risk involved. Her conscience, however, wouldn't allow her to leave these two people on their own in the middle of a zombie-esque pandemic.
"Well, great," she clapped her hands together, "let's get going. I'll help you carry your things."
He held up his hand, "No need for that. You takin' a risk on us is more than enough."
She bit her lip, "I really don't mind."
He shook his head, "I insist. I may be old, but I ain't turn't feeble yet."
He slammed the hood of the truck down, cursed at it one more time for good measure, then sauntered over to the driver's side. There was a subtle limp to his gait, but it didn't seem to slow the man down.
Frank pulled the keys from the ignition, pocketed them, and turned a soft gaze towards the boy, "Andre', we gon' go for a ride with this nice young thang now."
Esme' almost snorted at being called 'young thang', but she wasn't anywhere near offended. She knew it wasn't said with any disrespect, it was just the old man's way. It tickled her no end, though.
Andre' didn't stop his rocking, nor did he give any indication that he'd understood what was said. The old man brought his hand down, gently onto his thigh, "She got a friendly dog, little bigger than your mammas, but he likes treats all the same."
The boy stopped rocking and Frank continued, "How's 'bout you give 'im some of the ones you got, make friends."
The boy opened his door and hopped out; he was officially sold at the mention of her pooch. He came around the side, holding back at the sight of Esme'.
She crouched down, unthreatening, "Hello there, I'm Esme' and this here-" she patted the canine who'd started licking her face the moment she'd knelt down, "is Zeus. I heard your grandfather say you have something he'd like. If it's alright with you, I'm sure he'd love to have it."
The boy seemed distressed by her presence, so Esme' stood and backed off. "It's okay." She encouraged.
His desire to play with the dog outweighed his fear of her and so he came forward, "Puppy."
"Big puppy," she added with a smile.
He knelt down, much like she had, and held his hand out. Esme' loved that the kids her baby had come across were all aware of the proper 'greeting a dog' etiquette.
Zeus sniffed at the hand, quickly dismissing it for what was in the boy's coat pocket. The boy laughed a beautiful lilting sound. Little hot for that coat, way too big too. Oh. It was not his. She'd put money down that it was his father's. A keepsake.
Esme' felt her heart flutter at the realization. She still had both parents, though she rarely saw her father after her parent's divorce.
She had, however, lost three grandparents. She'd been close to her grandfather on her mother's side and she still had the one thing that reminded her of him most: his jacket.
It was blue with Christmas colored plaid cloth on the inside. She never wore it, but every now and then, when she missed her grandfather, she'd take it out and soak up the scent of the long gone man. It was her comfort.
Lost in her own memories, Esme' almost missed the appreciative smile from Frank. She caught it and nodded back, "You've got a good boy."
His wide grin could have gone viral, "Don't I know it, too."
Esme' felt good about offering them a ride. She liked Frank and his grandson. Seems like Zeus like them too. She giggled as Andre' wrestled with the dog, both lost in their own world of roughhousing.
Frank came up beside her, "Looks like they're gettin' on good."
Esme' nodded her agreement, "Looks like."