I DO NOT OWN THE WALKING DEAD
A/N: I imagine Gina Rodriguez as Xo and Scarlett Estevez as Bella.
It didn't end in a bang or an explosion. Instead, it ended one scream at a time. You watch about end of the world situations on tv or in movies, but that could never prepare you for when it actually happens. You expect to be a hero, but instead you're a victim. You expect to survive, but instead you die. The tv definitely didn't prepare us for how bad it actually was.
The first time I heard about it, was from this guy I was supposed to go on a blind date with. I had met him on Bumble and we were supposed to go to dinner at this popular restaurant. I had gotten dressed in the sexiest dress I had, put makeup on, and did my hair. From his profile picture, Mike looked really hot, and so I wanted to up my game. I had gotten all the way to the restaurant before he had sent me a text saying that he wouldn't be able to make it because he had been attacked by a random man on the street earlier that day, and that he wasn't feeling well enough to travel. I hadn't believed him until he sent me a picture of the stitches that laced his right arm.
The next time, was when I had brought my daughter, Bella, to see my mother. My mom had been battling cancer for a while at that point and had to stay at the hospital so they could keep an eye on her. Having had Bella when I was just a week shy of turning twenty-five, she helped me a lot, as I had been a scout sniper in the marines at the time. Bella stayed with my mom during that time, as her dad didn't even know that she existed.
We had just finished eating some of the homemade arepas, and sitting in Mom's hospital room, watching the news. We watched as they showed a homemade video someone took with their cellphone, as they stood by a the scene of a massive car accident. And we watched in horror as the video caught one of the supposedly deceased victims rising from the gurney and sinking their teeth into the neck of a paramedic. Of course, that video had gone viral and caused everyone to go crazy. And then it only went downhill from there.
When I witnessed it firsthand for the first time, I had gone to the hospital, having received a call telling me that Mom wouldn't last much longer. So I left Bella home alone (with our trusted Pitt, Zoey, to protect her), and went to visit her. I wasn't there for more than fifteen minutes when Mom passed away.
At the time, the hospital was going crazy. We knew what was going on at that point. The dead were coming back to life and eating people. I was trying to find a doctor to see what we could do with Mom's body. I just wanted to get out of there and get back to Bella as fast as I could. But as I stepped through the doorway, I saw people were running down the halls as people chase them. No. Not people, Muertos. Their veins visible through their skin, their eyes unseeing and cloudy. Some of them have gaping holes in their flesh and bites on their skin. I slam the door shut to prevent any of them getting in, and take deep breaths. I've dealt with tough situations before. I could deal with this. I just needed to keep a clear head.
As I turned back to find a quiet weapon (these things are drawn by sound so my gun wasn't the best option), I was suddenly attacked from behind. My back hit the door as something that used to be my mom threw its full weight at me, its fingers digging into my hair. I held it back by the shoulders and was surprised at how strong it was. Its teeth snapped too close to my face, and I used all of my strength to push it off of me. I looked around the room, trying to find a weapon that wont make a lot of noise. The only thing that I could find is the metal stand that held Mom's IV. I ran over to it, aware that the thing is following close behind me. I picked it up and swung it as hard as I could at Mom's body. That made it fall to the floor, but it was still fighting, making horrible grunting and growling noises. I threw the pole down and drew my gun from its holster. As I looked at its face, I couldn't help but hesitate for a second. This thing used to be my mother. The woman who raised me. The woman who took my kid in when I had to go back and fight a war after September eleventh. The woman who, just fifteen minutes before, died right in front of me. I knew that she hadn't been bitten. I knew that something was wrong, but I was in survival mode then. I needed to kill this thing before it killed me. And then I needed to get back to Bella.
I quickly smashed the thing's head in with the butt of my gun, feeling a knot in my stomach at what I had done to my mother's body. She was one of those Muertos, but still, I felt guilty about it, like I was going to burn in hell or something. Then I looked around to see if I could find a way out without alerting the dead or the armed soldiers who were shooting anything that moved. My eyes turned to the windows and I knew that I'd have to escape through there. We were on the second floor, but I've made longer drops and would be fine. I dropped out of the window, landing on a pile of dead bodies that weren't there when I arrived. I didn't pay them any mind, knowing that I had to get back to my daughter before something bad happened to her. I ran to find my car, but it was gone, unsurprisingly. In the span of two hours, the world went to shit and people started to steal cars. What the fuck ever. If someone was going to steal my car, I would do the same. I couldn't get Bella out of town without a car and I don't have one on me. But then I remembered that Mom's car was still sitting in her garage, just two miles from where I lived with Bella. If I could get there, I'd be set.
I ran the while six miles home, dodging people and the dead. By the time I reached the house, I was pouring sweat, and my heart stopped for a moment when I realized that the front door was open. I ran through the threshold, gun drawn, to see that things were a mess. The tv was missing, so was our stereo and various other things that were worth a lot of money. Whoever ransacked the house must have seen me leave because no one in town would risk trying to rob me when I was here. The town I lived in was very small, everyone knew everyone. So everyone knew that I was a highly skilled ex-marine as well as an FBI agent. I searched the whole first floor with no signs of Bella. But there was no blood, so I took that as a good sign.
"Bella!" I called out. I ran upstairs and checked her room. No luck. Her computer was gone as well as all the jewelry in her jewelry box. Books and clothes and toys littered the ground. I became more worried when I realized that Zoey was nowhere to be found, either. I ran to my room and looked around. I didn't have much in my room in the first place. Only a bed, a dresser, and a locked file cabinet, along with various pictures hanging on the walls. I was always so busy during the day that I had no time to do anything else. "Bella!"
The closet door slid open and Zoey bounded out, followed by Bella. I let my arms fall to my sides as I let out a cry of relief. I pulled my daughter into my arms, relieved that she's safe. I pulled back to see that Bella was crying, tears running down her face.
"Some guys started to bang on our door when you left and broke into our house. I tried to call the police like you said but they didn't answer and then I tried to call you and you didn't either," she said through her tears. I wiped the tears away with my thumbs and looked into her big brown eyes, feeling guilty as hell that I left her here alone. How stupid was I to think that a ten-year-old girl could stay at home by herself? Especially when the whole world seemed to be going to shit.
"I'm so sorry, baby. I should have never left you alone. I wanted to protect you from seeing your Abuela the way she was, but I put you in more danger by not bringing you with me," I told her. "But you did good! You kept Zoey with you and you hid until I came home."
"I was scared that they would find me. But it seemed that they were more focused on stealing our things."
"It's okay if they steal our things. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters. Objects can be replaced, people can't." She looked me over, her eyes widening.
"Is that blood?" she whispered, as if she were afraid of what I might have said.
"Yes. But let's not worry about that now. We have to make the house safe. We'll stay here for a few days to get our bearings, but then we have to leave."
"Why? It's not safe outside."
"Because this house isn't safe. We're vulnerable here. Anybody can come in and try to hurt us." Bella nodded, and we got to work. I fixed the door, boarding it up, as well as all the windows. Then, while Bella read her books in her own room that night, I was in my own room, sharpening my knives and making sure all of my guns were loaded. My favorite knife was the M48 Cyclone Knife. It had a black handle with a long, twisted blade. It's ruthless, and was good at getting the job done. It was a gift to me from a friend of mine who also served in the Marines.
When all of my guns were loaded, one of my big duffel bags that I had gotten from my job was packed with several handguns, a shit-ton of ammo, and other weapons as well as flashlights, batteries and flares. I had a huge safe in my room that I hid all of these things in. I guess that, after I had gotten back from the war and after I retired from the Marines, I just had a feeling in my gut that I'd need these weapons. I had to go to therapy for a while after I got home. I was very depressed and anxious. I had trouble sleeping and my appetite was next to nonexistent and I had flashbacks and nightmares almost every day. PTSD I guess you could say. At the moment, I'm doing okay, not good, but better than I was; but it took me a while to get there.
I threw the heavy bag to the ground and sat on the edge of my bed to take a breath. This was happening so fast that I hadn't gotten a chance to really digest what was happening. I was pretty sure that the government went to shit, which meant that my job was fucked. Not that I'd go to work. Not now when I needed to protect Bella and Zoey. And my poor mother. In a way, she was lucky. She didn't have to deal with this shit. She didn't have to see everything that's going on. On my run home, I saw so many people getting eaten, so many bodies and so much blood. Sure, I've seen messed up shit while in the Marines and my job as a homicide detective, but it still hit me hard.
From what I could tell, this wasn't going to blow over soon. The tv and radio stations are down. A few hours ago, we heard a loud noise coming from outside. Bella was too young to understand, but I knew that it was an explosion. I was able to keep it together long enough to send Bella to her room. But as soon as I got to my room, I broke down. I was hyperventilating, my heart was racing, I had a shortness of breath. An overwhelming sense of fear passed through my body, as I wondered if our town was going to get blown up, next. What if I couldn't protect Bella? What if this doesn't blow over? It'll be like I'm fighting a war every day for the rest of my life. I left the Marines because of that. I didn't want to feel hopeless and anxious anymore. I had gripped the side of the bed, taking deep breaths in through my nose and letting them out through my mouth. Trying to tell myself that I wasn't in any immediate danger. That Bella was alive. That I was alive. But it still took several minutes for me to calm down.
And now? I felt a heavy weight on my chest, like I was suffocating. My heartbeat was still racing and a wave of grave sadness washed over me.
But I knew that I couldn't let my PTSD get in the way. I needed to focus on keeping Bella safe. And the only way to do that was to keep moving forward.
A/N: Please review!
