Author's Note:
Hey guys! This is the first story I've posted and I'm really excited about it–I'm a huge fan of the Walking Dead. I'm having a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy. Please R&R to let me know what you think. ;D
Chapter I:
Watch Your Step
SNAP.
I whipped around, bow raised and arrow nocked. A small figure crouched a few meters away, its attention trained singularly on me. The motionless body was slight, its blue t-shirt and tan pants tattered, its short blonde hair matted and grimed. But the green eyes looking up at me were desperate–human. I lowered my weapon.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. What's your name?" I whispered softly to the little girl.
The little girl straightened up in relief and took a step toward me. "I-it's Sophia. Please help me, I got separated from–"
In one fluid motion, I raised my bow, aimed, and fired. My arrow implanted itself in the eye of my target–the walker that had crept up behind Sophia, who hadn't taken notice of the unexpected guest. Her face was white. The body of the undead thumped onto the forest floor, and she jumped, then looked past her shoulder and saw the corpse. Slinging my bow over my shoulder, I strode past Sophia, placed my foot on the fallen walker's chest, and wrenched out my arrow. I slid it into the pouch at my waist, and looked back at the little girl. She trembled in fear, the tears in her eyes threateningly close to spilling over.
"Hey now, there's no need to cry." I bent down and took her frail, starved hand in mine. "You said you got separated from someone, right? I'll help you look for them. How does that sound?"
She pursed her lips in an attempt to hold back her tears, before stepping forward to hug me. Despite her best efforts to not cry, her small body shook as she sobbed into my shoulder, dampening the fabric of my black t-shirt.
In the next moment, I heard faint moans in distance. Instinctively, I darted upright and surveyed the area. All clear… for now. "Let's go. It isn't safe here." I took her hand and led the way. "Watch your step; a snapped twig can be the difference between life and death these days."
The sun was setting.
All day, we'd hiked in silence through the forest in search of higher ground and a vantage point that would prevent any walkers from coming upon us undetected. I'd settled on a small, grassy area where the trees were sparse, and a large fallen tree served as a barrier along the western side.
Sitting cross-legged, I reached over to our small fire and turned over the stick bearing our supper–fresh rodent meat. The young girl sat across from me, hugging her knees to her chest, staring fixatedly at the starved flames. After a while, she looked up at me.
"Miss, what's your name?" she asked.
I tended to the fire for a moment before I straightened and returned her gaze. "How did you come to be out here all on your own?"
Clearly disappointed that I had neglected to answer her question, she hugged her knees more closely to her body. "I was with Mommy and some others before. We had to stop on the highway 'cause Dale's RV stopped working. The adults were looking through the cars for stuff that would help us." She lowered her voice. "But then a bunch of the walkers came all at once. Rick–that's Carl's dad–made us hide underneath cars so they couldn't see us. But one of them tried to get me, so I ran into the woods. Rick found me and told me to hide so he could take care of the walkers, and then to go back to the rest of the group. I tried going back, just like he said, but one of those things jumped out at me. I ran to get away from it but I got lost and didn't know how to get back." Her voice wavered and she paused to wipe a tear from her eye. I took advantage of the silence to pull our meal from the fire to check on it.
She resumed, "I found a little house where it looked safe, so I slept there for a night. I thought my mommy and Rick would be looking for me, but they didn't come. I was scared they wouldn't find me, so I left and tried to find them instead. I called out for them, but they still didn't come. …That's when I found you."
I handed her half of the rodent meat. She held it hesitantly, as though it might try to bite her. "Scowling at it won't make you any less hungry. Eat," I admonished. She eyed it reproachfully, then brought it to her mouth and nibbled off a bit. Realizing just how hungry she had been, she tore into the meat.
"It must've been tough on your own for so long." I smiled. "You're strong." I bit into my meal; it was tough and bland, but hey–food is food, and that's a fact that apocalypses tend to make painfully clear. "I told you that I'd help you find your people, and I plan to keep my word." I took another bite and chewed slowly, carefully choosing my next words. "But it's important you accept that we may not find them. And if another horde of walkers comes through like the one you described, we may have to abandon the search. Do you understand?"
She met my gaze and nodded firmly.
"Good." I stood and extinguished what remained of the fire with the toe my boot. "Then it's time you learn what it takes to survive. You'll have your first lesson in the morning. For now, get some rest; you'll need it."
Obediently, she curled up on the grass. I leaned back against the trunk of the fallen tree, bow in hand, and looked up at the sky. Stars flickered peacefully beyond the forest canopy, blissfully unaware of the nightmare that had become of life on Earth.
"As for my name… call me Presea." Having been on my own for so long, the name danced off my lips like the forgotten lyrics of a childhood song. The familiarity was a relief, but it brought with it memories of another life that were better left behind. I shook my head; now was not the time to dwell on such things.
Sophia's eyes remained shut after my outburst. The young girl smiled as she drifted off to sleep, oblivious to the turmoil one's own name could cause.
I knelt by a stream running softly through the clearing. I rinsed the gore off of my knife and the silver blade gleamed in the sunlight, thrilled to be restored to its former glory. I returned it to the leather sheath on my belt. Next, I took out my arrows and let the water work its magic as it flowed over them. A bit upstream stood Sophia, admiring the small folding knife I'd lent her. As per my instruction, she was getting acquainted with the blade–she was getting used to unfolding it, gripping it, and she was even practicing some of the techniques I'd taught her.
I stowed my arrows, when a ripple in the water's surface caught my eye. A fish, maybe. I focused my eyes on the spot. The waves dampened to reveal a sharp face peering back at me. Long, crimson tresses framed the stranger's face, whose narrowed sapphire eyes were in stark contrast to the light skin that was smeared with dirt and sweat from months of living in the wilderness. I reached out to my reflection and splashed the cool fluid on my face, distorting the image and rejuvenating myself.
Standing up, I carefully strode over to Sophia, who was still practicing diligently. "Looks like you're getting the hang of it. How about we put those skills to the test on a real walker?" I smiled.
She averted her gaze and fidgeted nervously with the small knife. "I don't know…" she mumbled quietly.
"Better now, while I can protect you, than later, in a desperate situation." I walked to the edge of the clearing, and Sophia followed anxiously. "I want you to lead. Show me what you've learned and find us a target."
She hesitated to move. "But I don't know what way to go."
I laughed. "Who does?" This was apparently not the answer the young girl was looking for, as was evidenced by the glare I'd warranted, which was accompanied by a particularly aggressive exhale. "That's the spirit!" I cheered.
Not long after Sophia had finally been coaxed into leading us through the woods, it became clear that her idea of the right way to go was to follow the river. Thirty minutes of intermittent branch-snapping and leaf-rustling later, the low groan could be heard off to our right. Sophia turned back towards me, frightened, and I urged her forward with an encouraging nod. "Just like we practiced," I whispered.
Recognizing that I was not going to let her back away from the challenge I had set for her, she turned back and reluctantly stalked toward the source of the moans. I could hear her whisper to herself, nearly inaudibly, "… just like we practiced… just like we practiced..."
A lone walker came into view, ambling aimlessly around the trees. The familiar, pungent odour of decaying flesh was made all the more inviting by the gaping hole in the abdomen of his coveralls, from whence his intestines hung down and trailed on the ground, like the train of a gown at a particularly unpleasant wedding.
Sophia clutched the knife in her hand, her face nearly as white as her knuckles. I reached for her shoulder and caught her eye; it was time. I stayed in position and took my bow in hand, in case the plan should go awry. Sophia carefully crept around behind the walker, just as we'd discussed. She started toward it, but caught her foot on a root, too full of adrenaline to have noticed it beforehand. With a yelp, she pulled her foot free. Our walker friend spun his head around at the sound and his sunken, crypt-like eyes fell upon his latest prey.
Immediately, I shouted, "Hey, over here!" Coveralls spared a moment to look at me, amazed that he could be so lucky as to attract not one, but two tasty morsels. I stepped toward him, making sure his attention stayed on me. "Sophia, NOW!" And almost instantly, Sophia sprang into action. She crouched down and kicked out the walker's knees, causing him to fall backwards unceremoniously. Before he could register the change in scenery, she let out a scream and brought her knife down through Coveralls' eye, and he lay still.
Slinging my bow back over my shoulder, I knelt down beside Sophia, and peeled her fingers off the grip of her knife. "See? Just like we practiced." She looked up at me with a mix of relief and lingering terror, and let out a slight laugh, still overwhelmed by the situation. Then her face contorted and she was crying because she had just driven a knife through a human skull, and even through it wasn't human anymore and hadn't been human for a long, long time, that didn't make the act feel any less sickening. I wrapped the small girl in my arms and waited for the storm to pass.
The first one is always the worst. It never gets easier, not really; you just learn how to bear the burden of it.
And voilà! Daryl will be making an appearance in the next chapter, worry nay. Hope you enjoyed, and I'd appreciate any feedback! :)