HisCrossbowandHerMachete
A Walking Dead novel
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or the characters. This is not for profit
Warning: Violence, Gore, Sexual Themes, Strong Language
Rating: T for early chapters. Eventually the rating will develop to M.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon/OC
Notes: I truly love Walking Dead. It has superb acting, the casting is excellent, and every now and again, even though I expect it, a zombie pops out of nowhere and I jump out of my seat. But since the pilot, the storyline has consisted of many plot holes and there are so many questions that have yet to be answered, and lately the pace has been glacial. But of course every week I watch it because of one particular character that completely intrigues me, yes I am talking about Daryl Dixon.
Because I highly doubt AMC would hire me as the Walking Dead's Executive Producer, I decided to write this fanfiction because I want to explore this post-apocalyptic world with my original character. My fanfiction is not exactly canon and the relationship between my original character and Daryl will not ensue until two chapters to come, so be patient but the beginning is still vital. I want you to be acquainted with my OC before she encounters our favorite bad ass, redneck, zombie killing machine.
Summary: Evie McAdams encounters a group of survivors in Atlanta and they travel to the camp where she meets the redneck that changes everything.
Prologue
These idle hours of the day that are so easily capitulated by darkness is what Evie McAdams so terribly dreads the most. It is within these hours she desperately desires to be wafted swiftly by slumber to a fool's paradise far, far away from those daunting wails and that decaying stench of death that was always lingering underneath her nostrils. Instead here she was – never in a million years would anyone have been able to convince her that this would be her life – sprinting down an alley, slashing the few walkers straggling in her direction within arms reach before hastily climbing up the ladder to her shelter for tonight: a department store. Evie had her fair share of phobias that she's learned to overcome when the world ended; after all your worst fears seem rather silly when your living day by day in a world where the deceased start coming back to tail your ass, wanting nothing more than to munch on your flesh, slurp your intestines, and lick your bones clean. But she still despised heights; her breath was hitched in her throat and her limbs so shaky, that by the time she made it to the roof of the building she nearly collapsed on the pavement scraping her palms. She scoped the roof before she rushed to the hatch, hinging the door in place before climbing down, planting her feet to the floor and running down the steps.
Evie swung her backpack over her shoulder, slipped her machete from the sheath attached to her belt and gripped it firmly in one hand and a flashlight was in the other. Light shone on the face of a lone walker and she slashed the blade straight between the eyes. Thankfully the door was unlocked as she scurried through the store, the gentle scuff of her boots challenged the abrupt silence, and the worn leather blistered her heels. If she was cautious and careful, today's journey would be worth her while, and then she'd leave first thing at dawn and be on her way. It should be no problem but she was silently praying that there'd be no walker awaiting her in the store. Despite the pleasure she gets from plunging a sharp object through a walker's skull and feeling that flood of relief afterwards when its brains splats on the floor, she's killed more than her average day's worth of walkers and honestly she just wasn't up for anymore tonight.
After a quick and thorough perimeter sweep, she sighed heavily and gilded her machete back in the sheath securely. The flashlight illuminated around the store, she was grateful to see that there were untouched clothes hanging here and there around the place. Even after the apocalypse she still had to go clothes shopping, something that was never a favorite hobby of hers but who would have thought she'd actually enjoy it a million times more now? The clothes were free, no more calculating discounts in her head for the best price, and it was no longer a concern of hers whether her wardrobe complimented her curves and cleavage or if the color accentuated her features. After all she really had no one to impress, that was one advantage of being a loner. And as long as it was comfortable, she'd swipe it off the rack, same with everything else she needed. It couldn't be considered stealing because the rules didn't apply anymore. From weaponry to food to batteries, she had quite a large stash in the back of her van that could last her a very long time, and she swears up and down if a damn thing is missing from her arsenal by tomorrow when she returns from the city, she'll have a fit.
Her van ran out of gas a mile or two from Atlanta a few hours ago. She was certainly surprised that she had made it this far walking without stumbling upon a horde of walkers, and Evie was almost certain that she would not have a roof over her head by the time the sun set. Despite her luck, this was a stupid plan and Evie has done some pretty stupid things in her life, but straying away from her van and leaving behind her entire collection of everything she has left in life, could possibly be the stupidest thing she has ever done. But of course she let her impatience get the best of her, she has already traveled this far and there was no way in hell she was going to wait another day to collect more supplies.
She was on her own indulging the nomadic lifestyle she was deliberately propelled head first in and afterwards she found herself belly-flopped in cataclysm. Evie was always able to adapt to change, even something as drastic and horrifying as this, she dealt with it. Sure she missed the way things used to be, maybe back then the sun would shine a little brighter, the air would smell a little fresher, life was a little less stressful, but the Earth was still spinning, the days kept going by, and time continued to go on. Maybe she's a fool for being a half glass full in a world that is as fucked up as it is but she was not naïve. She had hope; somehow, someway there was a light at the end of this tunnel. Evie was halfway there, according to the map in her back pocket in a day or two's time she could make her way to her longtime destination: The CDC. It was there she was hoping she could get some answers, because if God was not willing to give her some like she's requested so often in her prayers, maybe the CDC would.
Evie stripped from her filthy clothes tossing them in a corner of the store and dressed in her new, assembled fresh outfit: a red tank top a size too small and jeans that were rather large for her frame which became snug to her waist when she cut another loop in her belt. In the dark the flashlight glimmered on the window where caught a glimpse of the reflection of her enervated self. The apocalypse, the insomnia, the paranoia, the lonesomeness, the stress, and the fear of becoming a human happy meal was really beginning to take a toll on her. Evie raked her fingers through her lengthy dark, disheveled brown waves and wiped the sheer glimmer of sweat perspiring on her forehead with the back of her hand. She had inherited her father's blithe green eyes and his tall stature, and the essence of her mother's subtle beauty was etched in her faded biscuit crumb freckles sprinkled ever so lightly on the outskirts of her prominent cheekbones. Evie rarely wore makeup before the world ended but oddly enough she would give anything for some mascara and blush right now. She looked like hell. She felt like shit. Story of her post-apocalyptic life.
I am ecstatic that this idea popped in my head one day because I am having a lot of fun writing it. This is only the beginning and I have amazing plans for this story. I would very much appreciate it if you let me know what you think so far. I really hope you enjoyed it, look out for Chapter 1.