A/N: This idea has been swimming around inside my head for a long time, and finally, I have arranged my thoughts into one cohesive idea! I'm hoping you, as a reader, will enjoy this! I own all characters save for the ones you know from The Walking Dead. I do not own Kirkman's interpretation of the outbreak, but all original characters in this story belong to me. I hope you'll enjoy!
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Jenna Sumner was a direct descendant of Charles Sumner, a man who had been nearly caned to death for his abolitionist ideals during the Civil War. She wore the name proudly and as an advocate for history and for historical weaponry like her father before her, Jenna was almost always found taking care of some kind of weapon or, at the very least, managing her father's shooting range and survivalist classes.
Her nimble, able fingers trailed lightly over the writing on the etched inscription on the heel of the weapon in her hands. Loose tendrils of her long, dark hair framed her face lightly, a sure sign that perhaps she had been working a bit longer than her husband approved of. Such was proven the moment he stepped into her darkened study, leaning his shoulder against the door frame.
"Doesn't that one lamp hurt your eyes?" he asked, his hand circling the plate in his hand with the dish towel in the other.
Jenna shook her head, her icy shades flashing up to meet his similar gaze before she returned to her work. "I can't risk the artificial light endangering the labeling on this gun," she explained, "especially with the chemicals I'm using to treat the wood." Her husband continued to watch her, his eyes studying her for a moment. Jenna smirked, straightening her spine as she screwed the cap back onto the bottle beside her. "What's that look for, Scott?"
Scott chuckled. "I admire your work. Here I am doin' dishes and you're handling old rifles like they've been dipped in the blood of Jesus."
Jenna shot him a look and shook her head gently, the lowest several inches of her ponytail draping over her shoulder. "I wouldn't go that far, but it is my work. I take it seriously."
"To a fault, I'd say." Scott turned and crossed back into the kitchen area.
Jenna soon followed him, closing the door to her study behind her. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her tone was questioning and her arms folded across her chest in a more defensive manner.
Scott placed the dish in his hands into the cabinet with all of the other clean ones before slinging the dish towel over his shoulder and walking over to where she was practically glaring at him. "Jenna, our daughter is upstairs sleeping. How do you think it is for her to have all these weapons around all the time? To see her mother with a handgun strapped to her hip, a knife hilted to her ankle? How do you think she's coping with the fact that ever since she was little, you've taken her to survival classes instead of dance classes? You put that on her. You did that to our little girl."
Jenna nodded, knowing that all of that sounded so very close to what her own father had done to her when she was growing up. She also knew that nearly every time she and Scott had this argument, it was always the same. "There's a method to the madness. The need to survive is something she has to know how to do. She has to be ready just in case."
"In case of what - a fucking armageddon?" Scott yelled, turning his head and shushing himself - or, rather, shushing some unseen being.
"Scott?" Jenna's eyes went wide and her hands held her husband's face, turning him back to face her as a fit began. "Scotty? Did you take your pill today?" He didn't answer, his lips mumbling as he continued rambling to the voice in his head. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the pill case she kept there and removed one of them, turning Scott's face to her and forcing a pill between his teeth. "Swallow it. Swallow. Come on. I'm here. You're here. No one else is here, love. Just us."
Scott's breathing slowed a bit, his eyes opening and his gaze meeting hers as he stabilized his hands on her hips. He suffered from a debilitating schizophrenia, a kind that pushed him into fits, fights and arguments with the voice in his head.
Jenna pressed her forehead to his for a moment before patting his cheek and backing away. "Good thing I keep that case on-hand." She refused to continue arguing with him, especially not where their daughter was concerned. She was still young, still uncorrupted, and Jenna planned to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Fights like that were common between Jenna Sumner and Scott Whitby, stemming as far back as their wedding day. Jenna hadn't wanted to take his last name, and given how botched their relationship was anyway, it seemed too much to ask that their names be joined, too.
Still, she stuck by him, convinced that she was more of a help than a hindrance. With his condition, she wanted to help him and if it weren't for her, she knew he'd forget to take his medication more often than he'd remember, and she wasn't wrong about that.
Scott returned to washing the dishes and Jenna finished detailing the musket rifle in silence. Neither said another word to the other for quite some time following Scott's medicinal catch-up. What could they say that hadn't been said a hundred times over?
It was dark in their neighborhood when Scott turned on the news from the living room. Jenna was putting the rifle back into its case when Scott called out to her.
"Jenna? Someone's here."
Jenna wiped her hands of the grease and left her study, moving into the living room to see Scott opening the front door. Her brother, Merrill burst into their home, quickly closing the door behind him. "Merrill, what the hell?" Jenna asked of him, noticing that he seemed out of breath.
Merrill was tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and had lightly-tanned skin on his nicely-toned frame. He was frantic in this moment, and Jenna knew something must have really perturbed him.
"You watchin' the news, Scott?" Merrill asked of his brother-in-law, who nodded and turned the volume up so that they could hear it.
"...riots broke out in the downtown streets of Atlanta tonight as a large group of people referred to as 'the infected' made their way into the streets. The gore they inflicted on unsuspecting citizens is unthinkably tragic and much more than we are allowed to air. We do, indeed, have footage of one of these infected folk ripping into the abdomen of a passerby on the street tonight - "
"What the hell is she talking about?" Scott asked of Merrill.
Merrill raked his fingers through his hair, turning his sights to his sister. "Remember a few weeks ago when we were watching the news and they talked about people in local emergency rooms being admitted with really strange symptoms?" When Jenna nodded, he continued. "Those are the people she mentioned as 'infected.'"
"Are these people contagious?"
Merrill nodded. "Extremely. Doctors said that one bite or scratch from these people will slowly kill the victim and then...they die. The problem is that they don't really die."
"What do you mean?" Jenna asked, watching as Scott turned the television off. As soon as the droning sound of the news had been lifted from their ears, silence consumed the house, but was quickly pierced by a shrill scream from down the street.
Merrill darted to the front door, peering out the glass. "Oh, my God," he mumbled, shaking his head. "It's starting."
"What's starting-what's happening?" Scott said, becoming frantic.
Jenna could tell from her brother's statement that the time to survive had come. Everything that they had ever been raised to know was now relevant. "The end," she said in response to her husband's question. She turned to face him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Scott, I need you to go and help Merrill grab the supplies from the garage and load the SUV, please."
Scott glanced at his brother-in-law before nodding at his wife. "What about you?"
"I'm gonna wake Caroline and get clothes and essentials packed from upstairs. I need you to help him get the car packed and ready to go. Do not open the garage door until we're all in there and ready to leave." Quickly turning on her heels, she rushed up the stairs, her brother's voice calling out behind her.
"Hurry and get your shit - we've gotta get outta here now!"
Jenna rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, whipping open the door to her daughter's bedroom. "Caroline? Caroline, wake up now, baby." She leaned over her child's bed, lifting her shoulders from the mattress as her thirteen-year-old daughter's long, blonde lashes fluttered in a signal that her eyes were opening.
"Ma?" Caroline muttered groggily, blinking rapidly in her attempt to wake up. "What's wrong?" She sat up, her hands grasping her mother's forearms.
"Baby, do you remember all those classes you took at my work, all the ones that taught you how to pack a knapsack in case of an emergency?" Caroline nodded, her brow scrunched in confusion. "I need you to do it now, okay? Get up and grab your backpack. Pack it and hurry back downstairs."
"Ma, what's going on?" Her voice was frantic and Jenna wanted to calmly explain, but there was no time. Perhaps once they were clear of their neighborhood she could shed some light on their dark circumstance, but for the present time, Caroline must be kept in the dark.
"There's no time for that now - we'll explain once we're on the road, okay?" Jenna kissed her daughter's forehead before rushing from the room. She moved into the master bedroom, grabbing her sea-bag and beginning to empty her sock and undergarments drawer into it. As far as clothing and outwear was concerned, she had a whole dresser set aside for simply that. Cargo pants, denim capris, standard t-shirts, cotton socks, and moleskin for her shoes were all soon shoved into the sea-bag. Jenna pulled on her black, steel-toed military boots and grabbed the other pairs of shoes as well.
Her sights caught the stare of her jewelry box, causing an inward debate to begin over whether or not it mattered that she even sifted through it. Regardless of her inhibitions, she pulled out the small drawers of it and grabbed her grandmother's rings, handkerchiefs, and that's when she glanced up at her reflection in the vanity mirror. A photo was tacked there, one that her mother had taken on their family road trip to Maine. Her mother had fallen in love with the Blue Ridge Mountains of Northern Virginia, and had snapped a picture of the morning fog where it settled in the valley.
Jenna's chin quivered at the memory, her thoughts extremely fond of that trip with everyone. She grabbed the photo, folded it gently, and shoved it into her front left pocket before slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder and beginning the dump of her husband's clothing into his own pack.
"Ma?" Caroline said from the doorway. Jenna glanced up at her daughter, noting how she was dressed. Before, all she had been wearing was a rather large t-shirt, but now she looked awake, had put on a fresh t-shirt, jeans, a jacket tied around her waist, and was wearing her high-top Converse. She was very proud of her daughter in that moment, realizing that she had taken her training well. "Are we coming back here?"
Jenna shook her head, stuffing clothes into the pack before attempting to fasten it. "No, sweetie, I don't think we will," she said honestly. "Not for a while, anyway."
Caroline nodded, shifting her bag's straps on her shoulders. "I'm ready."
"I know you are." Flashing her a temporary smile, Jenna rushed over to her daughter and ushered her down the stairs, the screams and noises from the street now much more rampant.
"What's happening out there?" Caroline asked, her voice cracking in a frenzy.
"Let's get to the garage." She took Caroline's smaller hand into her own, moving quickly through the house to get into the garage. There, she could see Scott and Merrill still packing the SUV, but they were nearly done. "Get in the car, baby." Caroline did as she was told without question.
"I'll sit in the back - " Scott suggested, taking his bag from his wife.
"I need to be up front anyway. The backseat windows are thicker and safer, and in the front, I can see in case I need to..."
"...need to what?"
Jenna sighed, pulling her 9 millimeter out of its holster on her hip, loading the chamber and making certain that it was fully-loaded. "I think you know."
Scott's eyes went wide and he shook his head. "Jen, no."
"I will if I have to, Scott, and you can't stop me. Merrill and I are both licensed, but I need him to drive us."
"Jenna - "
"We need to get out of here," Merrill called as he slipped into the driver's seat.
"We're done discussing this," Jenna said, turning to hop into the car. Her husband moved into it beside their daughter, coddling her to bring her closer to himself.
"I dunno how this neighborhood is gonna look once we open that door. Can't go back after this."
"Do it."
Merrill nodded, gripping the wheel and turning the key in the ignition. Reaching upward, he pressed the button to the garage door and the four of them watched in stunned silence as it raised, revealing the chaotic state of their neighborhood.
"Oh, my God," Jenna muttered at the sight of their neighbors darting to and fro along the dimly-lit streets. Screams echoed and pierced through the thick glass of their vehicle. Everywhere there were people running and as Merrill locked the doors and pulled out of the driveway, several bodies lay strewn across various lawns.
"Are they dead?! Are people dying?!" Caroline asked, a meek whine coursing through her voice as her father pulled her into himself a bit tighter.
"Just hold onto your father, baby," Jenna encouraged, reaching back to squeeze her daughter's knee. "It'll be okay."
"No, it won't be," Merrill said grimly, forcing a look from his sister beside him. "Don't fucking lie to her, Jay. Nothing's okay anymore, Cee."
"Merrill!?" Jenna shouted, half because he had spoken so bluntly to his niece and half because of the fray in their streets.
Merrill braked as a man rushed up to the driver's side window to the car, pounding a fist against the glass.
"Open the door!" the man said, his face contorted in his own aggression. "C'mon, man. Unlock the fucking car - I've gotta get outta here!"
"Ma...?" Caroline whined.
"Merrill," Jenna said, her voice remaining as calm as she could possibly let it be, "we need to leave...now. Don't look at him. Look straight ahead."
"Ma - "
"It's alright, baby." Jenna reached back and squeezed her daughter's hand, feeling the nimble digits tremble within her grasp. "Merrill...drive."
Merrill sighed, gripping the wheel as he pressed on the gas, quickly driving them down the street and away from the man who was screaming after them. Once they were free of the debris, all heaved a sigh and settled into their seats properly. Scott continued to keep his daughter within his arms.
"Where to?" Merrill asked, briefly glancing at his sister.
"We need to get to Da's collection office," she answered.
"You realize that'll take us into the heart of the city, right? You do realize that vagrants and hopeless people will be swamping this car once we're there, right?"
"Dammit." She slammed her clenched fist onto her lap. "Don't talk down to me, brother. I know what a risk it is, but we will suffer out there if we don't - we need weapons and ammo, and where better than Da's collection? He trusted it to me, and I say, let's put 'em to use."
It was at that moment that a rather obnoxious ringtone sounded its muffled cry from the glovebox. Jenna opened it and removed her sat-phone. It was a rather large device, but it was known to work pretty well.
Opening the mouthpiece, Jenna raised the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she said.
"Jay, dear - I'm glad to hear yer voice."
It was their father.
Jenna exhaled deeply. "Da," she said, placing a hand on her chest, "oh, my God. Where are you?"
"Where're you? Yer brother said ye were comin' ta get me from the citeh."
"We're almost to Atlanta now, Da. We're coming right to you - we need to stock up."
He was suddenly silent and Jenna grew frantic.
"Da?"
"Jay...I tink those things have gotten inside the walls."
"We'll be there soon - Merrill and I are armed. We'll get you outta there, Da."
"...darlin', I don't tink ye'll be here in time fer that."
"Don't say that - "
"It's the truth. Is Caroline wit ya?"
"Yes. She's here. Scott, too."
"Jay...don't come here. Yer...it's too dangerous...get out..."
"Da?" Jenna said into the receiver, but the line glitched and cut out on her. The connection to their father was lost, and now Merrill was slightly panicky.
"What did he say? What happened? What's happening there?" he rambled.
"He said something about the 'things' getting inside the walls." She turned her gaze to her brother. "Did he mean the infected people?"
"Infected people?" Scott repeated. "Like the stories on the news?"
"Did they get Grand-Da?" Caroline blurted.
Jenna shook her head rapidly, turning around to face her daughter. "Baby, we're gonna do everything we can to make sure that didn't happen, okay?" She gave Caroline's knee a squeeze, not at all surprised when she felt the smaller, nimbler fingers grasp ahold of hers. She held on tightly, facing front when they entered the city limits.
"Oh, my God," Merrill breathed, leaning towards the steering wheel. All eyes peered out at the usually bustling streets of Atlanta, now emptied for the most part, save for a few, frantic souls sprinting through the flickering shadows of the alleyways.
"I've never seen the city look like this..." Scott said, and rightfully so. He was an Atlanta native and had never lived anywhere else in his life, so if he commented that the city had never looked like that, he wasn't lying.
"We'll be in and out of the collection as quickly as possible, but we do need to gather weapons," Jenna mentioned as softly as possible.
"Oh, shit..." Merrill said, braking the car to a controlled stop as the headlights settled on a commotion up ahead. A small group of what appeared to be humans were hunched over a lifeless body. Blood pooled around the corpse and stained the hands, faces, and clothes of the figures looming around the crumpled body. Dismantling of the body began with one of the figures grabbing a hold of a finger and biting it completely off. A dark shade of blood spurted across the lips as the figure consumed the detached digitalis.
"Ma..." Caroline wheezed, clutching the lapels of her father's shirt.
"Merrill, get us the hell out of here!" Jenna said, watching as her brother shifted the car into reverse and turned around, heading down a different street to get away from the huddled horror they had just witnessed.
"What the fuck was that?!" Scott yelled. "Is that what the news was talking about? Is that what the damn 'infection' does to you?!"
Merrill gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled bearing. "I don't know. I think so. I'm guessing that's what's going on and what's spreading."
"Merrill, those things must be what Da was talking about," Jenna added, rubbing her temples. "Shit, they're inside the office."
"You're armed, right?" Scott said. "You're not going in there unless you are."
"Yes, Scott, we're both armed."
Merrill put the car in park just outside the front entrance to the office. "Scott, do you have a weapon?" When his brother-in-law shook his head, he gestured to the bench seat he was sitting on. "Check under the seat. There's a Glock there that'll suit you pretty nicely if you need to use it."
Scott removed the Glock, eyeing it like it was a foreign object. "I don't know how to use this," he admitted.
"I do, Dad," Caroline interjected, taking the weapon from his hands and properly checking the slide and to make sure the chamber was loaded and the safety was off.
"Caroline, no. You're not gonna use it - "
"It's okay." Her tone was unusually calm, something that Jenna hadn't really expected. "Ma taught me how to use it. If we need it, I can do this."
Scott flashed Jenna a sharp expression, but she ignored it, turning her sights to her nine-millimeter.
"I've got two full clips, and one locked and loaded," she said to Merrill as he, too, loaded his gun.
"I don't like the look of this - " Scott said with a disapproving shake of his head.
"Scott - " Merrill snapped before his sister gripped his forearm knowingly.
"We'll be in and out. No worries." Jenna faced Caroline. "Keep an eye out for the infected people, okay? We'll turn off the headlights and switch the car off so it won't draw unwanted attention." She gave her daughter a gentle smile before unlocking her door and stepping out of the car. Merrill followed her to the front door of the building, eyeing the streets and sidewalks around them to make sure that they weren't seen.
"Got a flashlight?" Merrill muttered.
Jenna nodded, switching it on and clicking it to a self-made clip on top of her weapon prior to pushing open the door and heading inside. She hadn't needed the key since the door appeared to be broken into, a sign that made a lump form in her throat.
Merrill stayed close behind her as they made their way down the corridors of the main floor. The darkness of the hallways they entered through was extremely ominous, which was certainly helped along by the flickering of the lights above their heads and the shadows of the setting sun. Staying within city limits with riots all around and with infected beings roaming the streets was not only not an option, but it was a stupid move. They needed to find their father and get him out with as much weaponry and ammunitions as they possibly could, and they needed to do it quickly.
Rounding the final corner near the main offices, Jenna held up her hand to signal for Merrill to stop. Their father's office was nearby and the door was open, which was definitely not a good sign. The duo knew that their father was the kind of businessman who was rarely seen, never available, and always kept his office door closed, even during business hours for the collection museum.
The sounds they heard coming from inside the office perturbed Jenna to no end. They were awful, gut-wrenching, crunching noises quickly followed by soupy slurps that chilled the Sumner siblings to their very cores. Slowly rounding the corner, Jenna's eyes set sights on their father's body and on the figure hunched over him.
The figure appeared to belong to Lena Bodnewski, their father's personal secretary. Her skirt seemed torn and a lump of coagulated blood clumped on the side of neck. It appeared as though a large bite had been taken out of her neck and, judging by the size of the wound, she was obviously infected. If all of that had not been proof enough, the fact that she was currently ripping the flesh from Phineas Toole's spinal column and stuffing into her graying, blood-stained mouth was.
"Oh, God," Jenna breathed and Lena - or, rather, the monstrosity that had infected her - turned to face her, the sharpness of her dead, icy eyes raising the hairs on the back of Jenna's neck as they stared, unblinking, directly into her eyes. She raised her weapon to Lena, hoping that the now-infected facts-filer would back down, but, given the breadth of the infection, that was not about to happen.
Lena's body twisted and turned as she stood to her knees, arms outstretched and strange, out-of-this-world snarls escaping her drawn-back, gnashing lips. Jenna backed up a step and took a shot at Jenna's torso. The bullet pierced her body and sailed directly through the body and, ultimately, did not stop her. She continued moving towards the siblings and Jenna was forced to push the averagely-sized, infected body off of her as she was forcefully attacked.
"Merrill, do something!" Jenna grunted, avoiding contact with Lena's widened and terrifying mouth.
Merrill observed the ground around their father, noting that he was lying face-down on the carpet. Near his hand was a phrase he had written in blood. The message: "to the head." Whipping around, Merrill took a shot directly at Lena's head, glad that his sister had been wise enough to move her head in time. Blood splattered across the side of Jenna's face and onto her denim jacket as she felt Lena's body go completely limp and silence ensued. Jenna pushed the corpse off of herself and stood with her brother's assistance.
"Are you alright?" he asked, scanning her surfaces for signs of bites or scratches.
Jenna nodded, heavy breathing subsiding as she began doing her own quick scan of the room. "How in the hell did you know what would stop her?"
Merrill moved over to the message, gesturing down at it. She took a gander and smiled softly. "Just like him - he can't even go without leaving something helpful behind." Crouching down until she was on one knee, she gently pushed the straggling hairs away from her father's eyes before gently closing them. "Love you, Da."
Merrill sniffled a bit and glanced out the window. "Light's fading fast. We need to get our shit and leave."
Jenna nodded, wiping away the tear that had escaped her eye. She stood, immediately making a run for the collection display room, the place wherein those who were interested in seeing what findings the Sumner clan had made could truly observe them. "I have a specific few in mind - you go for the ammunitions. Grab whatever you can." Her brother headed off while Jenna broke the glass cases containing the most useful medieval weapons - a battle axe, a double-bit battle axe, a two-hundred-year-old kukri blade, a spear, a scythe, a chained mace, and, her personal favorite: a flanged mace. Rushing off, she met up with Merrill in the ammunition stores. "What did you find?"
"Generic rifle rounds, several boxes of shotgun shells, a bag of rifles and shotguns, a couple of pistols, a Beretta with a few clips left, and a shit-ton of nine-mil' bullets that'll fit most of the handguns we've got on us and in the car."
"Great." She shoved a few boxes into her satchel and nodded her head towards the door. "We need to go - now." Merrill followed her as they took off towards the main entrance. They spotted two infected folks by the car scratching at the windows but making no headway. Jenna quickly raised her gun, firing two straight-shots, one each at the heads of the undead attempting to break into the car. She bolted to the car and practically threw herself inside of it, checking immediately on her daughter. "Baby, are you okay? Scott?"
Scott nodded, holding Caroline close to himself. The thirteen-year-old flung her thin arms around her mother's neck, embracing her.
"Caroline, you're shaking," Jenna said, thoroughly concerned as she stroked the back of her daughter's blonde locks. "You okay?"
Caroline sniffled, stifling back her frightful tears. "I was scared you and Uncle Merrill got into trouble," she breathed, her fingers clutching at her mother's back.
"We're right here, sweetie - both of us." She had spoken two seconds too soon as Merrill entered the vehicle, quickly locking the doors behind him.
"And Grand-Da?"
Merrill shook his head and Caroline sobbed a bit harder, forcing her mother to hold her even closer. He was about to explain things when his cell phone began to ring. He was glad he had never owned a smartphone - he may not have received this call at all.
"Hello?" he said into the receiver.
"Where in the blue fuck are you guys?!" a frantic, female voice shouted over the other end.
Merrill sighed, the kind that said that he was relieved to hear the woman on the other end. "Frankie - thank God."
"Fucking answer me, Merrill. Where are you guys?"
"We're at Da's office."
"Is he alright? Is he with you?"
"He's dead, Frankie."
"...Christ." A pause filled the air as Caroline finally calmed down and Jenna pulled a map out of the glove compartment. "So...are we leavin' town or what?"
"We're all packed and ready to go - me, Jenna, Scott, and Caroline. We grabbed a shit-ton of weapons and ammo from the office, too."
"Good. I've got Mal and Sam here with me and Clairanne's on her way with Philly."
"You're bringing your horse?"
"Shut the hell up. He's like family, and now that I know that Da's gone..."
"We are ready to leave whenever you all are."
"...Clairanne just pulled up in front of the store. We're gonna put Philly in the trailer attached to Sam's truck and then we're heading your way."
"ETA?"
"ASAP."
"Got it. We'll be here and we'll be ready."
"See you soon."
Merrill closed his phone - the outdated flip phone making a gentle 'click' - as he turned to look at Jenna. "Frankie's alright. She's got Mal and Sam. They're loading Sam's truck with supplies and then they'll be here."
"I heard her mention Clairanne. She's bringing her horse?"
"You know how our sister is with that horse."
Jenna nodded, unfolding the map of Georgia as she traced her finger along street routes to look for the proper exit. "The sun's already set, so outside of the city is our best option to get settled for the night."
"Are we gonna make camp?"
She shook her head. "That doesn't seem smart. We need to keep mobile until we know it's safe to make a proper camp. The fact that Frankie has three others to bring along with us is good, but what about Bevin? Will? Are there others who will need to group with us?"
"Others?" Scott said, breaking his self-silence for the first time since before Jenna and Merrill had gone into the collection office. "You're not seriously considering letting freaks into our group? People may be violent, Jenna, just like that guy back in our neighborhood.
His wife nodded slowly. "I know. There will be violent people, Scott, but that comes with the territory. We need to be prepared to let other survivors...well, survive."
"If they survive this, maybe they're better off on their own."
"That's awfully pessimistic."
"Well, you know me."
She rolled her wide baby-blues back into their lids. "Scott, being narrow-minded now is not going to get us anywhere."
"Being too open-minded could get us killed."
"That's exactly the kind of talk that'll - "
"Here they come," Merrill interrupted appropriately. All present looked out the windshield as a truck with its headlights on turned around the next street, heading in the opposite direction that their vehicle was currently parked. The truck pulled alongside the driver's side. Merrill rolled down the window as the truck came to a stop when their windows were aligned.
The truck's window rolled down to reveal Sam, the husband of their cousin Mallory, in the driver's seat. "We need to get outta dodge."
Jenna nodded, leaning over her brother slightly to look at her cousin-in-law properly. "Follow us out of town - we'll find somewhere remote for the night. Do you have enough gas?"
Sam checked the gauge and turned back to her. "Yeah, for now, but we'll need some more if we're planning on traveling."
"Alright. Let's get somewhere safe and we'll pool our resources and go from there."
Sam rolled the window back up and Merrill did the same.
"Where to?"
Jenna's eyes scanned the map once more. "Drive, Merrill. Get us the hell out of Atlanta."
Merrill shifted the car into gear and began to drive. Checking the mirrors, he breathed. "The truck is close behind us." A pause of silent stillness filled the vehicle as they headed towards the highways leading out of Atlanta.
"Take the back-roads. The interstate and freeway are probably jammed."
Turning off onto a lesser-taken road, all in the vehicle breathed a sigh of relief and were able to, finally, relax as they made their way outside of the city by avoiding all major traffickways and dodging the occasional infected person - or persons - and over-turned towncar.
"I think we're all gonna be okay," Caroline said, leaning forward to perch her chin on her mother's shoulder and grab her hand for comfort.
"We are, baby," Jenna whispered, giving her daughter a sweet kiss on the cheek. Speeding down the roads ahead, the winding rocks led them to a small area near to a decent-sized quarry. "Let's stop in that clearing up ahead."
Merrill pulled into the clearing, the truck pulling up just behind them as several other cars whizzed on by, followed by a steady line of traffic on the run from the jammed highways. Turning off the ignition, all exited the car.
Jenna shoved her nine-mil' into the pocket of her jeans as she made her way towards the truck. "Are you guys okay?"
Frankie Sumner, the penultimate child in the Sumner line, hopped out of the passenger side of the truck, her cowboy boots crunching against the gravel as she slammed the door shut. Thin and above average in height, Frankie was quite lovely to behold, but was a complete and total asshole until you were gifted with the chance to know her, a chance she rarely handed out. Her hole-y acid-washed jeans were form-fitting to her slim figure and her lengthy, curly brunette locks had been messily tossed up into a loose ponytail.
Straight white teeth were revealed when she smiled and jogged to meet her sister. "Jenna!" she said more on an exhale than anything as she slung her rifle strap over her shoulder and pulled her older sister into a tight embrace. "Shit. I was so worried that you all didn't make it outta your neighborhood."
"We're fine - we're all fine." Jenna pulled back from the hug, straightening her shirt. "Da's gone, Frankie."
The rebel's usually stoic features softened. "Merrill told me."
"He didn't die before he left us with the key to putting these things out though." Merrill's voice cracked a bit as he came up to the small cluster that was forming.
"The key?" Sam repeated as he helped his wife out of the truck and led her towards their family.
Merrill nodded. "He wrote 'to the head' in his own blood on the floor. He put a couple of them down before we got there. Lena - "
"Lena?" Frankie knew exactly who Lena was. "Was she there?"
"She sure was - eating Da's back."
Her brother's words made the rock-hard Frankie quiver. "Fuck." Her emotions suddenly solidified into a sensible, precise verbage. "So what do we do now?"
Jenna crossed her arms. "We pool what we've got. Sam, Mal, what did you pack?"
Mallory placed a hand against her baby bump, the other tightly grasping her husband's fingers. "I grabbed some MREs, herbal supplements, water-purifying bottles, a shit-load of mason jars, and a whole bunch of practical items to make what we'll need out there."
"We can go looking for supplies first thing in the morning." Merrill was trying to help, but Frankie shook her head.
"Bro, we need to lay low for a few days until this hell slows down." She was firm, and her brother was attentive. "It'll be a shit-storm if we go out looking for supplies when the fleeing Atlanta citizens start riots."
"Riots are the next step." Jenna was clearly agreeing with her sister, but Merrill still seemed stuck on the idea of heading out in the morning.
"We don't know that." Merrill was standing his ground and wasn't about to let up.
"We do." Her brother seemed adamant, so Frankie was as well.
Jenna put her hands up. "Stop it. We need to make a list of what we have by way of supplies. Meager portions will have to get us through until things calm down."
"That could be weeks from now - " The tall, male Sumner brother was rudely cut short when the harrowing sounds of explosions rattled the bones of the clan standing so closely together. All eyes were wide and staring out of the mountains and towards Atlanta. The skyline of their city was suddenly lit up in random clusters as clouds of fire and smoke rose against the hazy night and cast shadows against the buildings. Helicopters circled around the outline of the city lines and fighter planes scurried off into the night as the sounds of gunfire echoed against the hills.
"Holy Santa Claus shit," Frankie breathed, locking her fingers behind her head. "They're dropping napalm now."
Mallory clung to her husband, her once free arm now circling him as she buried her face into his t-shirt. Sam held her as close to himself as humanly possible, his chin quivering visibly as he attempted to calm his pregnant wife.
Merrill draped an arm around his niece, patting her shoulder gently.
Jenna sighed and walked away from the sight before them, opening the side-door to the vehicle and grabbing their car bags to begin sifting through the items they had brought.
"What the fuck is happening?" Scott said as he approached his wife, frantic tones penetrating his voice.
Jenna was doing her best to remain calm. "The military is trying to eliminate the threat. They're doing what they think is best."
"So what are we supposed to do?"
"We do what Merrill suggested - we lay low for a few days until things calm down and then we figure it out from there." She could feel his eyes scanning her, studying her, judging her. "Why are you not panicking?! Why aren't you sobbing or having an anxiety attack or something?!"
"Because I can't!" Jenna turned to face her husband, whipping around to look at him fiercely. "Look at Mallory - look at Caroline. They're scared, Scott, and that's fine. I can't be scared - not now. There are too many people depending on what I know how to do, what I'm capable of, and I can't freak out, I can't panic. Someone has to be in charge."
"Why does that have to be you?"
"Because I know too much. There are skills I have that are vital to survival in a post-apocalyptic setting, and my siblings do, too. Others out there will be looking for help and we have to help them."
"I don't understand."
She sighed, shaking her head. "No, you're right. You don't." She turned back to the vehicle.
Scott's face fell as something on her caught his eyes. "Jenna..." He turned her face back to look at him, a soft gasp leaving him as he noticing the dark blood against her face. "...shit. You've got blood on you."
"It's fine. It's not mine. It belongs to Lena."
"What happened out there?"
She averted his gaze at all costs, shrugging lightly. "My Da's dead, Bevin and Will are missing, and the world's going to hell. I'd call it the usual if it wasn't for the fact that it's everything but the usual."
Scott grabbed the bandanna from his sack - the one she had been searching through - and dabbed his tongue against a bit of it, bringing it up to her face and scrubbing the coagulated substance from her skin. Her eyes looked up at her husband, calming down a bit at the realization that he hadn't been this gentle with her in years. "You're strong, Jenna. It's one of your most attractive traits."
She curled her arms around his waist and he put his arms around her shoulders. Her eyes watched as several buildings in Atlanta began to crumble to the ground and some were consumed by raging flames. She wondered where they would be if she hadn't known the information she did. She wondered who all wouldn't be standing in their motley little group, as well as who would be dead.
She pondered all of those still in Atlanta, including the two missing Sumner siblings. Truly, though, one question rattled her brain and dizzied her senses: where do we start?