Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any books or songs or bands mentioned in this story.
The story is as follows...
Ireland Hayes and her younger sister, Willow, have survived the outbreak of the infection that creates the walking dead. Now they live day to day, meal to meal in the fallout of what is left of the world while the infected roam the streets of the abandoned cities. They now resign in abandoned underground bunker that Ireland found as a child while playing in the woods with her older brother, who is now deceased. Ireland and Willow prepare for the winter months by making a their new home secure.
The Time That Passes
Chapter 1 Eleven months and four days since the lifeless bodies took over the entirety of the earth. We're the lucky ones. We survived. We are survivors. We are the remains of what the world use to be. But in a way nothing has really changed. It was a dog eat dog world… and now the dogs have a bigger appetite.
Now we have the fundamental needs. A bed to sleep in at night. A roof over our heads. A source of food and water. Finally, safe. But this word 'safe' confuses me. I am restless. Were we ever really safe? I am just waiting for it being taken away from me again. Waiting for Willow drifting apart from me like we're on two separate sheets of ice. It still haunts my slumber.
It's almost everynight I awaken from a nightmare to then grasp that I awoke in a horror. She can see it, I know she can. The exhausted expression, the glimpse of the battered soul behind the eyes. I'm just like them to her, already gone. But she forces a smile, she too is struggling.
* * *
I awake with a jolt from another dream. The screams never die down instantly, even though I am conscious. Moods of panic and terror are omitted from my mind by the sight of the hot coals in the furnace across the room. I brush off the beads of sweat from my forehead. Relieved, I hear Willow's soft snores from across the bed. I reach out an arm out for her warmth. Lying there, gazing at the ceiling, I only wonder when the sun will rise.
About an hour passes and it is early enough climb out of bed. I stretch. A groan forces itself from my mouth. I take another glance at Willow, who is still steadily asleep. Her breaths are poised which makes her appearance more innocent. The light from the fiery embers make her red hair more vibrant and her ivory skin glow. Willow appeared angelic.
I put on my greyish-green pants, a fresh black t-shirt and waxed -canvas hunting shoes. As I go to grab my bow, I hear Willow softly moan. She rubs her eyes.
"Hunting?" she asks warily. I nod.
"I'll be back soon with dinner." I say. I turn to go.
"Wait!" she calls. I stop and look at her. She gets out of the covers and sluggishly saunters over to me. She takes my hair and quickly twists it into a braid. She smiles.
"There. I'll have some tea for you when you get back." She says. I grin and ascend up the ladder.
* * *
I inspect the snares with the searing sun on my back. The first snare has a small cottontail rabbit which I smile triumphantly upon. I store it in my bag. After the resetting the snare I continue to the second entrapment.
I brush off sweat off of my forehead and take a sip of warm water. It isn't easy adapting to the Georgian heat when you are born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. I yearn for the refreshing rain.
As I approach my second snare I find a trail of blood leading from the trap. I analyze the snare to discover what had happened. The rope was tangled and distorted. Around it was a small amount of guts and blood. Next to the gore was a squirrel's head. Most likely a drifter or another animal got my squirrel.
Out of the blue a soft snap reverberated behind me. I grab my bow and turn but I was too delayed. A man stood in front of me with his crossbow aimed by my forehead. He eyes me suspiciously. The lump that has formed in my throat stops me from breathing. Instantly my weak legs begin to tremble. My knuckles are white from clenching my bow so vigorously. Although panicked and little bit terrified, I stand firm and keep eye screams return from my nightmares. And when I finally inhale he pulls the trigger.
But it does not go through my skull like I thought. Instead the arrow travels past my right side and hits something behind me. A harsh thud follows closely after. I glance over my shoulder and quickly return eye contact to the man. He had killed a drifter. Someone in close distance calls and the man turns his head. In that instant I sprint back to the bunker.