After escaping Terminus, the group stumbles upon a seemingly abandoned farmhouse stocked with food and weapons. Only after spending the night do they realize the farmhouse is actually inhabited by another group, causing a bittersweet feud between the two. As the two groups attempt to co exist, both friendship and rivalry form.
This story will introduce a group of eight unique OCs. I can assure you of definite Rick x OC, Carl x OC, maybe even Michonne x OC, and possibly more! I'd like to thank you in advance for reading, reviews are greatly appreciated!
It was the fifth day. The fifth day of aimlessly wandering through the wooded area, in search of refuge. The fifth day since the nightmare of Terminus had gone up in flames. It was the fifth day, and yet it felt like the fifth year. Each member of the group trudged on in hopes of some vision of sanctuary. Whether it be in the form of a traveling survivor, the sight of smoke in the distance, or an abandoned camp. Whatever the case may be, the group continued on with that idea as their motivation. Yet spirits were not at their highest amongst the group and whatever hope they had was beginning to dwindle. As the fifth day approached it's close, there was a word to be had.
A distressed Daryl pulled up alongside Rick who led the group forward, almost as if he were leading them into battle.
"It's been five days, Rick," Daryl remarked, although he was unsure what kind of response he was expecting to get back. Out of all the sixteen members of the group, none were as troubled as Rick. These were his people and they looked to him to take care of them. Since Terminus, all he had done for them was drag them through the woods and given them what seemed to be false reassurance. Each day they spent wandering intensified the danger.
Rick merely ignored Daryl's comment, continuing to walk in silence. He didn't want to hear about how many days it had been, how tired everyone was, how dangerous this was becoming. He knew.
"It's been five days," Daryl repeated himself, his tone gaining aggression.
"I know how many days it's been," Rick snarled in his low register.
Daryl winced, glaring over at Rick. He respected this man, loved him like a brother. But sometimes he just couldn't seem to see things from his point of view.
"We need to get to the road side. We ain't gonna find shit, wandering around the wilderness like this."
"Roads are too dangerous. Makes us an easier target."
"We're gonna die like this," Daryl growled, keeping his voice low. The rest of the group was already loosing faith, he didn't need to add to their discouragement.
It were almost as if an act of God, at that very moment. As the group approached the peek of a hill, there was a clearing on the way down. And a farmhouse.
Resisting the urge to grin with smugness, Rick looked back at Daryl with a perked brow. "No, we're not."
Sighs of relief were released from the group upon obtaining sight of the farmhouse. While a wave of relief washed over the members of the group, they did not advance toward the house. Not yet.
"What are you thinking?" Michonne's hand lightly brushed against Rick's arm as she looked to him for direction.
He took a moment to respond, his eyes scanning the area. If he was going to lead his people into the farmhouse, he was going to make damn sure it was secure.
"I'm thinking, this is the first thing we've come across in five days. I don't hear movement or voices from here. There's no lights on in the house." He then pointed to a tall structure that was at least fifty feet away from the farmhouse - a water tower. "I'm thinking we make a move on the house. If it checks out, we stay the night. In the morning, we check that water tower and fill up. Then we'll take things from there."
Rick then turned back to face the rest of the group, looking to them as if he was challenging them to speak up against anything he had just said. However, none did and they began to prepare for the descend down the hill and the attempt to take the house.
With one swift hand motion from Rick, the members dispersed and were on the move, their weapons at the ready.
On the charge, Rick began to find it strange that there weren't any walkers on the premises of the farm. And as he neared closer to it, he noted that there were live trees and bushes in the fields. Either this place had been recently abandoned or they were in for an unfriendly encounter. It didn't help that the sun was quickly descending and his visuals were not as accurate as he'd like them to be.
In a matter of seconds, the entire group was surrounding the door, all looking to Rick for the next act to take. He held his hand out, signalling everyone to wait. With his hand gun raised, he quietly advanced towards the door. Daryl was to his left and Michonne to his right. With his gun still drawn, Rick grasped the door handle and fought with it, in an attempt to open it. Stepping away from the locked door with a sigh, he proceeded to aim the gun at the lock.
Upon the clatter that followed the shot, Rick kicked in the door and, in an instant, the majority of the group filed into the home with weapons drawn, with Carol and Carl standing guard outside the now opened door.
After searching the entire home, any sign of a walker or live human was not found. It seemed almost too good to be true. Perhaps, it was.
The home contained one living room that opened to the kitchen. With only one floor, all three of the bedrooms were contained on the same level as the kitchen and living room. The largest bedroom had it's own bathroom, which turned to be the only bathroom in the house. Upon further inspection in the kitchen, it was discovered to be stocked with an abundance of non perishable food. In the storage closet, there was discovered to be a fair amount of weapons and ammunition. The house was abandoned, as far as the group could see. But what about all the supplies that was left behind? And the fact that the bedrooms seemed as if they were a little bit too homey? If this house really was abandoned, Rick reasoned that it hadn't been for long.
"Check this out," Tara exclaimed, pulling out a walkman from one of the dresser drawers. "It's been a good seven years since I've seen one of these things."
"This looks pretty good, Rick," Tyreese commented, the corners of his lips twitching upward.
"A little too good, don't you think?" this remark came from Carol who quickly approached the two. "A full stock of food and weapons? No walkers? There's something not right about this."
"Why does something always have to be wrong for it to be right?"
"Think about it. Is anything ever easy these days?"
"Carol's right," Rick said, before Tyreese could even think about a response. "This is a little bit too good of a find. I don't know if I'm ready to believe we could be this lucky yet."
The sound of Judith's wails caused the bearded leader to pause his sentence. It made him realize that it didn't matter how sketchy this was. His baby daughter needed food and rest. They couldn't afford not to stay, at least for the night. After ordering Carl to put Judith down for bed, he turned back to Tyreese and Carol.
"We'll stay here for the night. We need to rest."
"I'll take the watch," Carol volunteered without a second thought.
"You sure?"
"Are we ever really sure, Rick?" With that, the woman strode away, grabbing a blanket before settling in the chair in front of the wide window that allowed a view of the area in front of the home. Another factor that bothered Carol was the fact that all of curtains had been shut when they entered. Everything had been left as if someone was living here. If that was the case, then where were they?
In the matter of twenty minutes, the large group had settled down for the night. With most of them scattered on the floor of the living room, the tired members quickly drifted off into slumber. And although the thought of closing her eyes for a warm, uninterrupted sleep was very enticing to Carol, she forced herself to resist the urge and keep watch.
What the group did not know was that they, themselves were being watched. A measly fifty feet away, two sets of eyes glared down at the sleeping bodies through the open window. However, instead rubbing their hands together menacingly and devising a horrid plan of ambush, these two figures merely shook in fear. Up on the water tower, camouflaged by the night, they stood. Outnumbered and fearful, they were forced to remain subdued. Instead of devious predators made of weapons and wrath, they were made of glowing eyes and invisible whispers.
"What are we going to do now?"