With the first episode of Series 5 released, I really wanted to make a backstory for Gareth. I don't know why exactly, he just seems to be a very interesting character and it's clear his role in The Walking Dead will be very high later on in the series, and with the flashbacks and everything, it gave me a clear idea on what sort of backstory I wanted.
of course all of this will be completely different to how it will be in the show, it was just an approach I made as I had nothing better to do then drown in my own tears after the Carol and Daryl hug as well as (nearly) everyone back together.
so, here you are.
I'm going to keep this T for now, but it may change later on depending on how the themes change. I will put warnings up if there is anything 'alarming' to some viewers.
disclaimer: I only own OCs.
With that done, on with the chapter...
"We are all mistaken sometimes; sometimes we do wrong things, things that have bad consequences. But it does not mean we are evil, or that we cannot be trusted ever afterward."
Alison Croggon
The smell was putrefying. The discoloured skin marked grotesquely with squirming white maggots, the tiny infestations that were the omen of decay, popped out of the rotten flesh that hung limply off the jaw of this stumbling, dead, creature. It was a bloated thing, the once grey all-in-one uniform now tattered and soaked in blood and flesh.
It had found its way into a garage, tools of every shape and size scattered on the floor, and when ever the creature's naked dead feet scrapped against one, it made a short clink sound that seemed to echo through the building.
It was the bloodcurdling moans that caused any alive human's heart to thump faster, for it was the raspy breathing that you heard first, or the deep growl of a savage beast once it's whitened eyes found you.
It was this sound, this creature of decay, that April loathed with all her heart.
There was no fear of being ravaged by it, no gut-renching ache that would have been felt by those who still saw these creatures as once human beings. April just hated them. They had destroyed everything she held dear to her heart, and thus, the said heart felt nothing for them.
She was a young women in her mid twenties, dark blonde hair straightened as it fell over her shoulders. A long sharp face with penetrating seaweed eyes that held less life than the creature in the garage with her.
A grey leather jacket covered her darker grey shirt that held curling patterns which were difficult to follow as mud and dried flaking blood covered them, also caking her black jeans in what other brown coloured atrocities she had collected over the weeks spent in this post-apocalyptic world.
What may have gone unnoticed by others, was a plastic dolphin that hung around her neck by black string, threatening to choke her it was so tight around her throat. But it didn't irritate her, it was more of a reminder, a reminder of when the world wasn't so fuelled by death and destruction, back when things were classed as normal which seemed like such a long time ago.
Crouching behind a tool cabinet, looking through the bottom shelf's gap, she could make out the feet bending and stumbling towards the long unmovable Prius that was still hooked up high, the work never finished. She wanted to grab a wrench and smash it square into the forehead of the creature. Just for the satisfaction. Just for the thrill. Just to remove the guilt.
But it would cause too much noise, and noise was not on the survivors' side anymore.
She could hear the hanging flesh slap against its face. If it had been a week or so earlier it would have made her vomit, now, there was no emotion. She fought the desperate urge to grab the wrench that was so close to her fingertips as the creature began circulating back around, finding nothing it could chomp on, heading back out into the burning sunlight of autumn.
"That's right Meany, piss off somewhere else." She murmured quietly to herself, the inappropriate name causing her to smile the tiniest centimetre, but caused a twang in her mind at the memory of someone else, the one who named the creatures.
With it gone, she could scout a few weapons, seeing as she was running low on useful ones. Grappling the strap of her light brown satchel bag, she gently stood up and skimmed her hands over the ornaments on the shelves first, keeping an ear listening and an eye open for more Meanies.
The bag was hardly efficient and actually couldn't carry what she needed, but April had made a promise to never lose it, and even with things as they were, she was keeping that promise until the day she situation she was in, that day may have been closer than ever before. She needed food, weapons, medicine. But large groups had already scavenged everything before she was in a kilometre of the area. That was one of the dangers of being a lone survivor. You only got the scraps. Like a dog.
Groups didn't interest April in the slightest, just more mouths to feed and a higher risk of noise, and company was just...vexing.
April could have dry-laughed at the unused vocabulary, formal language wasn't needed anymore, simple terms and curses were as good as any. And honestly, the people she did meet were either brain dead hunters or skilfully sadistic, and neither were stimulating company.
April could truthfully say she missed her job, her old job. The one that had long hours and slow progressive success, or sometimes failure, which resulted in visits to court where a judge told her to do her job better, like they had the vast knowledge of Psychology better than she did, the petty hypocritical judges who looked down on anyone without connections to royalty. At least she could look forward to venting about everything when she returned home...
Home.
Home.
The nostalgic word made her stop abruptly, it was one she had refused to plague her mind in such a long time, that it sent bitter chills through her body.
Where was home?
Where were her sisters who had been apart for many years?
Where was her father?
Did anybody that she had known before everything went to crap survive?
Did Jim survive?
Was Kaitlyn with him?
Kaitlyn.
"Mommy, I want to be with you."
"You can't sweetie, work is keeping Mommy busy and you need to stay here with Jim."
"Promise you'll come back."
"Of course I'm coming back, I would never leave you alone."
"That's what you always say..."
April suddenly found herself on her knees, leaning against the tilting cabinet for support.
She was so young, barely eight. April was always trying to make up scenarios that meant her innocent, beautiful, angelic daughter was still alive somewhere. Jim who had been a father to her whenever she was in Atlanta, the same man who had looked after Kaitlyn through the divorce with her father, April's mistake of what she had believed to be a caring man.
That sickened her.
How idiotic and naive she had been only eight years before, believing that Jason was the one she wanted to start a family with, oh how low could she have stooped. Giving up her sisters, her family, almost her future career for such a terrible excuse for a human being.
But she supposed, there were plenty of other Jasons in the world now.
It was moments like this, these moments of utter weakness where April questioned how she had survived this long, if at all. Sometimes, sharpened knives seemed so tempting against the skin of her wrists, or the cool metal of a gun against the side of her head. So addictive. Like a drug that never ceased to crawl its way into her mind.
She had to stop.
"She's out there, somewhere, she's safe." April instructed herself, but found her body was convulsing. Uncontrollable. It happened so fast. And yet was in slow motion.
Her grip on the cabinet slipped away as it began to topple forward, all the metallic tools falling before the rusted shelf itself, all of it sounding together like one big cringing orchestra as it fell with an echoing crash.
Startled growls sounding all around her, decaying heads popping up like disturbing meerkats as they scrambled towards the deafening noise.
Shit, shit, shit, shit! April cursed hysterically as she tried desperately to grab onto something that could pull her up, but her legs were still liquified jelly, and it took an age to finally escape through a shattered window.
She was met with the sight of five Meanies around the corner, investigating the noise like the Meanies who were already in the minuscule town. She was out of sight enough to slip away unnoticed into the woods nearby, but only if she went at an agonisingly slow pace. She had to admit her heart was thumping now, the only other time it was ever pounding so rapidly was when it all started.
With tasteless sweat pouring off her forehead, she was about to enter the woods, when she realised she felt lighter than usual. She had left the bag. Amy's bag which she had promised to never leave her side until she met up with her younger sister again. How bleak that time seemed now.
I'm not leaving it, or she'll be haunting my ass until a Meany gets me. April told herself with mild humour as she tentatively vaulted over the window, some of the glass that hadn't bothered her beforehand now scraped against her hands, causing splodges of crimson to drip silently. It wasn't painful, thankfully, but the blood was the least of her problems.
The Meany whom April successfully avoided earlier was the first to arrive in the garage, again. It gurgled and moaned like they always did, whitened eyes searching for whatever had made the loud noise, not enough brain cells to realise that the shelf had been knocked over. Luckily there was a counter top next to the window which did hide a little of her body, but not enough for her to go unnoticed.
With a silent hand reaching, she stretched for the satchel that was lying just in front of the fallen cabinet, biting her bottom lip so hard it threatened to slice through the thin flesh, but thinking about it was just a distraction. She gripped the strap, and was just about to haul it towards her when the Meany sniffed once and then spun around for dead eyes to meet green ones.
It targeted her.
With a short choking gasp she released the strap and instead snatched the wrench, standing up and flicking out a strong arm to stop the Meany from gnawing on her throat. It snapped its visible teeth, the stench never got easier to smell, nor did the sight of the maggots wriggling free and falling onto her face as she was pushed into the counter. Her arm shook violently, she was never that strong, but just strong enough to keep the Meany at bay long enough to raise the arm obtaining the wrench.
With a loud squelch the wrench made a large dent in the Meany's skull, causing blood splats and rotten flesh to drip onto April's jacket. But the Meany didn't stop, it kept on snarling and etching closer to her throat. With tears of rage staining her eyes, she brought the wrench down over and over again, pounding into the skull, cracking it, trying to make the critical impact into the brain.
April roared as the wrench finally found the brain, the Meany giving out one last lazy moan before slumping to the floor. April heaved, blood-stained wrench still raised and poised. It never got easier, even when she hated these monstrosities, it still never got easier to slaughter them.
With a trembling arm, she wiped the remaining residue off her face, the leather bringing little relief to the sweat, flesh and blood that had contaminated her skin. She didn't care about the Meanies who were still growling outside. She dropped the wrench, blood droplets bouncing as it went clanging to the floor.
A flash of skin sparked in front of her eyes, suddenly, her scream was covered by a sweaty hand. She tried to break free, legs and arms flailing, but her captor had wrapped their legs around hers, meaning any struggle at all was futile.
"Shush...I'm not trying to hurt you." The male voice said in a rapid whisper. It admittedly didn't sound sinister, but deception was the way in the world now. April could feel the stale breath of the man brush against her ear. He was dragging her towards the window. To safety.
She instinctively bit his palm, the man's pained gasp meant he wasn't prepared for her to push away from him. She barged out of his arms and ran for the bag, that was all she wanted. The entrance to the garage was piled with Meanies, and April was forced to walk backwards. Straight into her captor.
He was still nursing his injured hand, and she realised that the tangy taste of blood was sour on her tongue. She couldn't get a good look at him, but brown hair was short and slightly greasy, short stubbles around his chin.
Serves you right, asshole. She thought angrily as she headed for the window once more, ignoring the man who only watched in vain as she vaulted over the broken window and sprinted for the woods.
She heard the distant shouts of a female, seeming to call for someone but she didn't stop to find out who...