Okay guys so welcome to my newest fic! This is a TWD Daryl/OC fic with a Rick/OC friendship in it :3 I really hope you all like it and don't forget to review and follow ;)
"Fuck!" Maxine Everly yelled as the fifteenth fridge she had checked today was barren. She forgone eating yesterday and it was finally starting to catch up with her. She supposed it was her "Good Samaritan" nature. After all, she didn't have to help that guy Morgan and his kid... what was his name? Oh yeah, Duane. She didn't have to help them and give them the last of her supplies, but then again... why not? It pays to be nice. You may need a favor from someone later after all. Payback. Kings County was a small town. There never appeared to be much going on there from her perspective before this whole shit-storm went down, so why Max visited now she had no clue. Nostalgia maybe? She knew Lori used to live here. Maybe it was just some pathetic attempt at trying to get back her old life; like there was some chance that maybe she'd walk down the street and up would pop Lori from a little house round the corner. Maybe she would be married? Have a kid or two? Max could imagine that: Lori having a little tug-munch hanging off her sleeve and a nice husband spoiling the little brat. The thought was nice.
A face vaguely flicked through her mind... she could remember Lori having a boyfriend... Rick Grimes. He was a nice guy, and Max got along with him well. But then again, that was when Lori was 19. That was the last time she saw her adopted sister. She was 14 at the time, when Lori's mom and dad split. Lori went with her mother, Max with her father. She was 26 now. What did it matter though? Everyone was dead anyway... or un-dead in this case. Looking around this house made her sad really. To think that someone once lived here, had their whole lives revolving around one place, maybe even children, and now she was scavenging for food in it because everyone was rotting and out eating human flesh? Ew. Sighing, slammed the fridge door shut and wiped a hand through her semi-greasy brunette hair. She hadn't showered in a week: Water was scarce. She was angry; she was sweaty; she was dirty but most importantly, she was alive. "I won't be for much longer if I don't find food." She thought to herself. It was time to move on.
Her hefty biker boots clunked against the floorboards of the abandoned suburban dream as she shut the front door behind her. Reaching round to her backpack, she brought out a can of red Michigan grade spray paint. She sprayed a large red 'X' on the front door. It was empty. She surveyed the landscape in front of her: a desolate scene. Perfect white houses with smashed out windows and broken down doors were set in rows down the street. The odd dead body was scattered around. A month ago that would have seemed foreign to Max, her only being a pre-school teacher. Granted, she had gone hunting on the weekends and gutted the odd deer with her dad, but the carnage that this fucking apocalypse had caused was... incredible. In terms of survival, chances were low and risks were high. Max carried round a battalions worth of weapons to... maximize her chances. Her main choice of weapon was her crowbar, sharpened at one end for extra skull stabbing ease. She had affectionately labeled it "Brass": Her dad used to say she was bold as brass. Max also held two hunting blades that smacked against her thighs in their holsters when she walked... again, those were her dads. But her favorite weapon? Her crossbow.
She kept it slung across her back at all times and only used it for emergencies. Only three arrows rested on her quiver, each engraved by her father for her. She couldn't afford to lose them. Like her appearance, Max was a little rough around the edges, mainly in clothing. Lets just say that most people would avoid someone who wore skin-tight black leggings and a murky green plaid shirt over a simple white (Now brown due to muck) wife-beater vest. Her thick biker boots and tattoos often scared people away, but she loved them anyway. Once anyone got past that however, they could see that in fact she was actually quite pretty. Emerald green eyes peered out from between row upon row of thick, dark lashes. Slightly too plump lips parted to view rows of straight pearly white teeth.
Maxine stomped down the house's steps, discarding her now empty spray paint can. As always, she kept on walking. Not before long she had rounded the corner to the Kings County hospital. Man this place gave her the creeps. It wasn't even worth checking out to be honest, who knew what kinda crap or walkers could be in there? She kept on walking. But then... she didn't. A man. A human, living man stumbled out from the back hospital doors and into her path. She stopped. "Hey... you okay buddy? You've not been bitten right?" She asked hesitantly in a low voice, desperate not to attract attention from any... undesirables. The man walked stiffly, as though he hadn't in a long time. The man turned and she stopped short. His Her bottom lip started to tremble as the man spoke. "Little Maxine?" That single word shook her. She knew this man. She knew him well. He had barely changed from when she saw him last "Rick? Rick Grimes?" Shock coursed through her as he nodded.
She cocked a hip. "Shit. Wow. I thought everyone I knew was dead." She sighed, a slight smile breaking out across her face. It soon faded when Rick appeared confused. "What? What's going on Max?" She sighed... "Rick how long have you been in the hospital?" He shook his head. He didn't know. "Well what date was it when you went in?" She asked. "February 31st, 2010." He responded with conviction. She inhaled sharply. "Shit..." She muttered as Rick started towards her. "Max, what's going on? Why did you ask me that? What happened here?!" She started to back away slightly so he halted in his advance. "Rick, the date today is April 30th, 2010." She forced out. Rick looked astounded. He shook his head. "What? No, you're wrong." She reached out a hand and laid it gently on his arm. "Rick, I'm not... A lot of bad stuff has happened in two months... really, really bad. Why were you in the hospital?" He muttered something that sounded vaguely similar to "Gunshot" and "Coma" so I nodded along to what he was muttering. Poor motherfucking bastard. "A-are you okay Rick?" Max stammered.
He turned round with a wild-eyed look. "H-Have you seen Lori?" He asked quietly. "Lori? Why? Not for 8 years." She responded, and he shook his head, running a hand through his greasy hair. He looked up at me with a cheeky grin, a glint in his eye. "Because I married her." he replied earnestly. Maxine Everly then smiled like a motherfucker and couldn't help but to launch at him with a hug. "Well then hey there brother!" She giggled and he chuckled. "So you haven't seen her then?" He asked releasing me. Max shook my head and looked downwards in sadness. "No Rick. I'm sorry." His head cast downwards and a lone drop of what Max assumed to be a tear hit the pavement. His head shot up and a determined look took dominance over his face. He set off walking down the road. "Rick? Rick! Where are you going?!" Max cried, and took off following after the lonely male.
He could walk pretty fast for a man with no food or water in his system. He didn't respond so she ran faster to catch up "Richard James Grimes you stop right now and tell me where the fuck you are going! This world isn't safe anymore! The dead roam the streets and the living kill each other! So please, before you get me, or anyone else hurt, you tell me where you are going right now or so help me I will put you down right now!" Maxine yelled, an immense amount of dread settling in her stomach as she realized the... type of attention it could attract. He halted immediately and turned to face her, a hard look on his visage. He squared his shoulders and replied in a defeated voice: "I'm going home."