Rotten Sunshine
A/N: Hello there, I would like to welcome you to the first chapter of Rotten Sunshine! I'm really excited for this story and I can only hope that you are as well! I've been developing this story and character for a couple weeks now, which entails obsessing over Norman Reedus interviews and trying to get a good feel of who Daryl really is. I'm halfway done with the second chapter, and I can say pretty confidently that Daryl will appear in the third chapter. But the romance is going to be extremely slow-coming because I'm trying to keep the relationship grounded and as realistic as possible.
If any of y'all are here from my Supernatural story, Rabbit, My Claws are Down, I just want to say thanks for sticking with me! If you aren't I just want to say how honored I am that you'd take the time to read my story. Thanks and I hope you enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Walking Dead in any way shape or form, nor am I associated with anyone from it.
At 5 AM, years of deeply ingrained habit cause Charlie's eyes to slide open. She's gotten up this early since she was just a little girl. Every morning at 5 AM her father would poke his head in the door with a stern, "Good morning, Charlie," that never failed to wake her. Then they would have breakfast and work out together. After rubbing the sleep out of her eyes briefly, she sits up and stretches. Her joints popping in unison causes her to emit a low satisfied groan as she tosses her legs over the side of her bed and pads softly out of her bedroom into the kitchen.
Grabbing a ponytail holder off the counter, she tosses her wheat blonde hair into a sloppy bun and pries the refrigerator door open. She grabs the carton of eggs and places them on the counter, pulling the milk and butter out not long after. Falling into a routine allows her to stop thinking about her movements as she methodically scrambles two eggs and slides them onto a plate embroidered with cherry vines. She puts all of her egg making materials back into the fridge and then grabs a package of cherry tomatoes, a small portion-sized bag of baby carrots and a semi-clear bag filled with broccoli.
She sits at her coffee table after placing the vegetables on her plate, reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. The first thing she sees after the TV crackles to life is a man dressed in a hazmat suit. With a frown she changes the channel. This channel shows a sick woman in a hospital bed, an infected bite mark interrupting the pale skin of her forearm. It looks as if it's draining some kind of sickly liquid.
Struggling to hold onto her appetite, Charlie shuts the TV off and eats in silence. She doesn't want to think about the infection that seemed to have taken like a plague. It's already interrupted her work schedule. With everyone in a tizzy about the apocalypse, it's not so surprising that no one is really worried about taekwondo or self-defense. It's a shame really; maybe something she'd teach them would save their lives. After her silent breakfast, she gets dressed in athletic shorts and a baggy shirt and heads down to her apartment building's workout room.
The walk to the workout room is short and uneventful for the most part, except the strange man that was stumbling aimlessly around the parking lot. Charlie didn't bother with him though. He didn't look to be hurting anything, besides people out this hour are shady as hell. Messing with him would be akin to kicking a hornet's nest. She opens the door to the workout room and shoves her ear buds in, clicking play on her mp3 player as she makes her way over to the treadmill. The treadmill beeps as it turns on, signaling the start of her workout.
Charlie's eyes slide shut as she falls into the rhythm of her jog. She was sort of spoiled to the luxury of being able to use a treadmill, because instead of having to watch where she was going, she could just run endlessly. She uses her early morning run to sort through all of her thoughts, yet clear her mind at the same time. It must've only been ten minutes into her workout when a foul smell makes her face curl in disgust. She blindly reaches out and turns the treadmill off, the machine slowly coming to a stop. She doesn't bother opening her eyes, instead leisurely popping the buds out of her ears. Maybe the heater got turned on by accident. It always did make the place smell horrible.
Before Charlie can decide whether or not she wants to check the thermostat, a cold clammy hand wraps around her ankle, causing her eyes to snap open and an immediate scream to escape her mouth. Attached to the hand around her ankle is Mr. Foster, her neighbor. Rather, half of Mr. Foster. He seems to have dragged himself over to her with his hands, judging by the trail of clotted blood and flesh. She can see his spine and his intestines trailing behind him like sickly red and black snakes. Where are his legs?
Mr. Foster moans as he uses his arms to pull himself even closer to Charlie, his jaw unhinging and hanging open as he moves to bite her calf. She screams once again, her other foot whipping out to kick Mr. Foster, the toe of her shoe sinking into his eye socket with a squelch. The force of her kick sends him rolling, putting a little distance between the two of them.
Sickened, Charlie gags, bile filling her mouth as she stumbles further away from Mr. Foster. He has already recovered from her kick and is crawling after her again. She breathes in through her nose, catching a whiff of Mr. Foster's rotted corpse. It sends her over the edge and she vomits, her breakfast of eggs and vegetables splattering all over her sneakers and shins in a multicolored splash.
The TV was right. The dead were rising.
Fight or flight kicks in and Charlie choses flight, her vomit-slicked sneakers having trouble catching purchase on the tile floor as she tries to get away from the abomination she's been calling Mr. Foster. Finally making it to the exit, Charlie throws it open and sprints out, every instinct in her body screaming for her to get to her apartment, where she'll be safe.
Charlie takes the four flights of stairs two at a time, her entire body alive with raw nerves and the bitter taste of vomit fouling her mouth. She makes it to her floor, sprinting down the hall as fast as she can when a wet smacking sound stops her in her tracks. She turns the corner to be greeted with a horrid scene. Sprawled out on the ground is the body of Mrs. Goode, the woman two apartments down with the yappy Pomeranian, and kneeling hunched over her is Kendra, her daughter. Kendra's back faces Charlie, but Charlie can see her tiny five year old shoulders heaving as if she were crying.
Charlie's heart lurches painfully in her chest. It was obvious Mrs. Goode was dead. Charlie has no idea what happened, but she can't leave Kendra all alone out here. It's dangerous. Charlie steps cautiously closer, "Kendra? Are you okay?" she calls softly, trying not to startle the child.
Kendra's entire body tenses before she slowly turns to face Charlie, her small sweet face coated in blood and grime, her usually soft blue eyes mooned over and cloudy. Kendra moans loudly and staggers towards Charlie her arms outstretched as if to embrace the shaking woman.
Charlie takes a horrified step backwards, absolutely terrified of the small girl stumbling towards her. But she has to get passed her to get back to her apartment. She swallows thickly, trying to decide the best way to get around Kendra. She doesn't have to think too hard. She waits until Kendra is close, then she simply uses her superior height as an advantage and sweeps the child's legs out from under her and sprints past while she gets back on her feet.
Finally making it to her apartment, Charlie yanks the keys out of her pocket and shoves it in the lock. She throws the door open and snaps it closed behind her, locking the dead bolt. Her heart beats frantically inside her chest, her palms sweat bullets and her eyes dart suspiciously around her apartment, no longer taking it for granted that it was safe.
Moments later, tiny fists beat on the wooden door accented by the occasional snarl.
Charlie darts into her bedroom and yanks her cell phone off the charger, her fingers dialing a familiar number before she even realizes what she's doing. She presses the phone to her ear and waits anxiously for the recipient to pick up.
"Charlie?! Oh thank God, Charlie, where the hell are you?! You were supposed to have evacuated already!" Seth's voice scolds, his own worry and panic for Charlie apparent.
"What's going on, Seth?! First Mr. Foster tried to take a bite out of me while I was jogging and then Kendra was in the hallway EATING her mother! She was eating Mrs. Goode and when I tried to help her she came after me!" Charlie babbles, feeling as if she were teetering precariously on the edge of a very big break down.
"I'm coming to get you! Don't step out of your apartment, just pack as much food and clothes as you can! I'll be there in ten minutes," Seth commands, calming Charlie with the thought of him coming to get her.
"Okay, okay… just be safe," Charlie whispers, her fingers shaking. "And… And use the back staircase to get in, okay? Kendra's at the mouth of the other one. Be careful," she warns.
"I understand, I'll use the other stairs. I'll be careful," Seth promises, hanging up.
Charlie stares at her phone blankly for a few moments, the full horror of her situation not yet hitting home. She throws the phone on her bed and briskly crosses the room to her closet, pulling out her biggest suitcase and filling it with as many clothes as she can fit inside it. After that she gets a smaller bag and fills it with toiletries and other necessities. By the time she's finished getting her toiletries packed, she can hear Seth beating on her door.
Not wasting any time, Charlie drops her bag and dashes to the door, unlocking it and yanking Seth inside. Once he's safely inside and the door's closed once again, she wraps him in the tightest hug she can manage, grateful beyond words for his presence. Seth returns the hug full force, crushing her to him in a vice grip. "I didn't know it was serious, I'm so, so sorry Seth!" Charlie mutters into his shoulder, having to stand on her tip toes.
Seth breathes heavily, "It's okay, we're okay. We have time to leave still. Are you finished packing?"
Charlie shakes her and takes a step back, taking a moment to analyze his face. His shaggy blonde hair is the same as usual, but his hazel eyes have extensive bags under them. His lips pull into a tired smile, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly. He works, or used to before the students started turning into cannibalizing freaks, as a gymnastics teacher. He used to compete in gymnastics tournaments, even though he doesn't any more, he still practices and stays in competing shape. Meaning he's ridiculously buff. He's also the best friend she's ever had. Still shaken up, Charlie pulls him into another hug, the top of her head barely making it to his shoulder. At 6'4, Seth towered over her 5'7 frame. "We better finish packing, we have to get out of here," he says, patting her on the back softly.
Charlie nods and pulls away, "I only have to pack some food and water. My clothes are already packed," she says, jogging into her bedroom and grabbing the large plastic storage bin she had kept her winter clothes in. Unceremoniously dumping out the clothes she had decided she didn't want, she brings the bin to her kitchen and begins to rifle through her pantry, filling the bin with as much perishable and nonperishable food as she can get her hands on.
"I'm going to take your suitcases to the car," Seth announces as he opens the door, aforementioned suitcases in his grasp.
"Be careful," Charlie sternly warns, her large dark brown eyes narrowed in concern. Usually in response to her concern, Seth would laugh it off and call her paranoid. But today was different, today was the beginning of what looked to be the apocalypse if she was to believe the TV. Seth nods reverently, his face grim. She swallows her worry and continues to shove food in the bin indiscriminately. She knows that if everything is as bad as she's been lead to believe, food will become scarce. She can't be picky. After packing all of the food she can, she drags two unopened cases of water out from the bottom of the pantry.
Seth reenters her apartment, "Do you have your gun?" He asks, coming over to where she's standing in the kitchen.
"It's in my bedroom," Charlie answers. The look on his face tells her immediately that she'll need it, forcing her to realize once again how serious this situation is. Without another word, she returns to her bedroom. It's in a sad state right now, clothes and items strung all over. She had basically torn her room apart looking for things that she would need. She ducks into her closet for what may be the last time and pulls a plastic case off of the top shelf. She flicks the latches open and peeks inside. Sitting on a bed of foam is a Glock 17 and two extra magazines. It was a gift from Seth a couple years back, along with gun safety classes. They're going to come in handy.
Grabbing the two boxes of ammo from the shelf, Charlie calls back to Seth, "I'm ready now!" She picks her purse up off her bed and puts the ammo boxes inside before slinging it across her shoulders.
"Okay," Seth says, appearing in her door way, "let's go."
Charlie takes a deep breath, trying to burn the image of her destroyed apartment into her brain. She didn't want to forget the place that has been her home for so long. "Let's go," she echoes weakly, feeling as if she was about to take the plunge into a pool of freezing water. Compared to what's actually happening, the frigid water might've been more fun.
"Wait, Kendra's still out there," Seth says, reminding Charlie. "She was distracted by her… meal when I walked by earlier. But I think she'll hear us this time."
Charlie's heart freezes in her chest as she nods grimly. "Okay," she replies numbly, not fully aware of what her fingers are doing until she's holding the Glock in her hands and sliding the magazine out to check the ammo.
"She's just a kid, Charlie! We don't have to… We can't kill her," Seth says his eyes locking onto her gun, his eyebrows crease and his lips pulled into a frown. "We can't kill her, Charlie."
There's still ammo in the magazine from the last time she went target practicing. She slides it back into the gun and swallows thickly. "She's not human anymore, Seth. You can't think of her as a little girl," she says softly. "She's out there eating her mother. She stopped being human the moment the infection killed her and then brought her back."
Seth still looks conflicted, and Charlie understands that no matter what she says he won't understand. "She's just a little girl…" He reiterates, putting a hand on her forearm.
Charlie shrugs his hand off and heads into the hallway, her fingers wrapped tightly around her gun. Seth doesn't follow.
Kendra's in the same spot she was the first time Charlie saw her, though Kendra's back is still facing Charlie since she chased Charlie into her apartment. She's still shoveling chunks of her mother's flesh into her mouth. From behind, she still looks like the little girl that sat and ate Cheerios on Charlie's couch while watching cartoons. Charlie grits her teeth and steadies her hands, "Kendra," she calls, waiting for the little girl to turn around.
Kendra turns and snarls, her face coated in such a thick layer of blood and flesh that it takes Charlie a moment to realize that in her gluttonous feeding, Kendra has eaten through her own lips. Her tiny teeth are all on permanent display, bloodied with flesh and sinews stuck in between them. Her belly is distended with the size of her meal, but she continued to feast up until Charlie interrupted her. Charlie wonders briefly if the child would've kept eating until her stomach ruptured, if it hasn't already.
Kendra gets to her feet with the exact amount of coordination you would expect from an overstuffed corpse, that is to say none.
"That's a good girl," Charlie says soothingly, a broken smile on her lips, "I know you're a good girl. Do you remember that time your mother left you with me when your puppy had to be rushed to the vet? You were so strong, you hardly even cried even though I know you were scared for Mr. Sparkles and you didn't know me very well."
Kendra's head tilts and she looks about as puzzled as any corpse ever has, but it doesn't stop her progress. She still staggers toward Charlie with an odd lurching motion that unsettles the older woman.
"I really am sorry, Kendra. I hope your mommy can forgive me." Charlie whispers, clicking the safety off.
Kendra snarls and gnashes her very visible teeth together, her stumbling gait picking up speed the closer she gets to Charlie.
Charlie refuses to close her eyes as her finger presses down on the trigger. The bullet leaves the barrel and sinks into Kendra's forehead, violently throwing the little girl's body to the ground. To close her eyes would be to deny Kendra's existence.
Part of Charlie Noble died along with Kendra. She doesn't know how big that part was, or what it took with it.
But only one thing is certain in this world where the dead walk; to close her eyes to reality is to embrace death.
