A kiss from the wind -The Walking dead. Daryl Dixon/OC
Chapter 1- The bleak present.
Summary: The gnarled hand scrabbled uselessly against the ground, rotting body trapped under the mangled car wreck, reaching, moaning and snarling. Charlotte grimaced, moving further out of reach and crouched to the ground. "Come on kid." Daryl's voice sounded behind her, a hand landing on her shoulder, "Leave it. We got ground to cover." Daryl/OC
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Hey guys! Here I am! With a Walking dead fic! I'm so totally obsessed with this show its ridiculous and though I haven't actually seen series two all the way through yet I'm starting my fic at the end (I know what happens) and moving off onto my own arc from there- doubt there will be any prison in this, especially since I haven't read the graphic novels or seen season 3 so I have no idea what the governor/prison is like. So if you don't want a completely original story then leave now!
For those who are left… I truly hope you enjoy…
And feel free to promptly internet slap me if my character becomes some perfect Southern Belle lady or Mary Sue… Damn I hate them!
Onwards…
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Oh! Also, due to not knowing the novels or what's coming next I'm ignoring the whole Andrea getting split from the rest and being saved by the girls whose name I cant remember or pronounce!
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Charlotte jerked awake inside her tent, groggily growing alert, unsure of what had roused her from her restless slumber. She listened carefully, eyes slowly adjusting to the dreary morning light, taking into account the scorching summer heat of the recent days and the lack of sunlight in this moment it couldn't have been any later than four or five am. Her watch had stopped working months ago and she had never gotten around to searching out another. No noise followed whatever it had been that had woken her and her eight year old brother Jamie still slept untroubled on the cot beside her own. Charlotte felt her tense shoulders relax a little, the dead couldn't tip toe or sneak, had one of them entered camp it would have been much louder and one of the men on guard would have noticed something. There would have been shots, lots of them. She found herself thankful, not only because it meant everybody was safe but also that Jamie might sleep through the night, a growing boy needed his strength. Regular sleep and food would give him this, and with the lack of food in this post apocalyptic world (at least that's what she had taken to calling it, the dead walking the streets seemed a good enough reason to believe the world had essentially ended) Jamie needed all of the rest he could get. One had to be strong to survive these days.
Another noise roused her from her thoughts, a raised voice, Charlotte rolled her eyes and scrabbled around in the low light for her boots, hoping that another fight wasn't going to begin, God knows with such a large number of dominant males in the group it happened more often than not and tensions were higher than usual since Dave and Tony hadn't returned from their latest supply run. Once her boots were loosely laced she quietly moved out of the tent, wincing as the zip creaked loudly in the quiet of their tent. The air was humid even at this early hour, already sticky and low. The sort of weather that made Charlotte want to jump in the lake and swim until the air cooled again. The chances of that happening however, were almost as slim as the chance of Charlotte waking up to find that all of this horror had just been a bad dream.
She pulled the zip closed half way behind her, letting some air into Jamie, despite the low heat it was still cooler outside than inside the insulated tents.
Twigs and other assorted natural materials crunched beneath the soles of her shoes as she stepped quietly towards the commotion. A shadowed figure stood by the neighbouring tent, a figure so small it was barely visible.
"Betty?" Charlotte asked.
"Hush girl!" the elderly lady hissed, "Get over 'ere."
Charlotte tip toed the few metres between them and stood beside her much smaller and much older friend. Charlotte didn't know much about Betty Paige, only her name and that she was a fighter despite her age. The woman refused to talk about her past, simply sighting that it was all gone now. Betty still refused to speak of her age, besides she always said it was rude to ask a lady her age and even in these times manners shouldn't be lost.
"What's happening?" Charlotte asked, squinting through the gloomy light towards the middle of the camp where a number of figures could just be made out. Despite the impeded vision it was easy to see that each blur was agitated.
"You're daddy ain't happy. Randall and them still ain't returned from looking for Dave and Tony." Betty whispered, "Thinks there might be more of the dead around that town than we thought. Woulda had to take a lot of 'em to take down all five of 'em."
"Yeah." Charlotte mused. "Does dad think they're all dead then?"
"Yeah. Sent Andrew and Oliver out after 'em this morning'. Graham was one of them. Jon ripped to pieces from what I gathered. They recognised the clothing at any rate. Weren't much left."
Charlotte grimaced, "They find Randall? Dave? Tony?"
"See, that's why your dad ain't happy. Randall weren't nowhere to be found and they didn't see anythin' of Dave 'n' Tony either. Your dad reckons they might've gotten themselves drunk again, passed out somewhere. Might've gotten themselves eaten even."
"No supplies?" Charlotte asked, recognising the underlying sadness in Betty's voice for what it was, not sadness for the possible loss of five of the group but for the lack of food and provisions. They'd been running low for a while now, lower than usual and Dave and Tony had been the first provision run for weeks.
"Nothing. He's sending some people out soon as the sun rises fully."
"I wanna go. See if I can grab some stuff for Jamie and for Emma. Vitamins or something'" Emma, the orphaned girl Betty had been travelling with for a few weeks before Charlotte and the group had found them. Only thirteen, it was a bleak world for her begin her teenage years.
"You think your dad'll let you?"
Charlotte hesitated, "I can only ask. He might let me this time."
A burly man of forty eight Lawrence Pearce was an intimidating man, having fathered his first child at only twenty three he'd been a workless drunk for almost the entirety of Charlottes life, only when the world had gone to tatters and the dead had started roaming the streets searching for living meals had he stepped up to the role of protector. Frequently violent towards his late wife and children, alcohol the mans only respite it seemed that Lawrence Pearce had been made for this kind of bloody, ugly world. With so many billions dead the man felt right at home and was higher up the food chain than he had ever been before. He ruled this group with an iron fist, the men, most of which were violent rednecks and criminals revered to him, worshipped his strength. Charlotte felt a pang of sadness, Randall, a few years younger than herself had been one of the nicer ones. She found herself hoping that he had met his end quickly and as painlessly as possible.
Charlotte moved slowly towards the scuffle, her father's voice growing louder with each word. Andrew, a typical redneck, with broad shoulders and a temper to fit any stereotype stood his ground, gun slung lazily over his shoulder. Andrew scared Charlotte, had since the moment she'd met him and he had all but leered at her and then slid his eyes towards Emma. She'd made sure to keep an eye on the child at all times since.
"Lawrence," he said, even his voice made Charlotte shiver, "If the boys are dead we just send out more. We got plenty a grunts to spare."
"Get it done, Andrew."
"Dad." Charlotte called, as she moved around Andrews large bulk towards her father, "Can I talk to you."
"Fire away." Her father said, still standing menacingly in the middle of the camp. Charlotte turned to Andrew with a small glare, barely noticeable to that idiot, and said, "Alone."
Andrew left the area quickly, a few grumbled choice words as he did so.
"Can I go on the raid today? I need to get a few things for the children."
"You can give a list to Andrew." Lawrence replied, dismissively, tone leaving no room for an argument.
"Dad, I'd really rather go myself I-"
"Shut up." came the quiet but just as menacing interruption. Charlotte felt her throat constrict and stepped back. "I said no. Get out of my sight. Wake the kids and get some laundry going. Take your axe."
Charlotte nodded quickly and moved away, as was almost always the case with her father, it was better to admit defeat than anger him. She moved quickly back towards her tent and motioned for Betty to follow. Today she would wash the camps clothes, play the woman's part as most of the camp expected and just hope that Andrew returned with food and provisions. It was better to do as you were told than incur some kind of punishment.
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"Where in the hell do we go now?" Daryl Dixon growled angrily, voice rising in pitch, crossbow slung carelessly across his back.
"We keep moving." Rick Grimes said, surveying the stretch of road, eyes pointedly missing the scrawled message that poor Sophia would never see, skimming over the heartbroken forms of Maggie and Hershel and Beth who had lost yet more people important to them just the night before. "We look for more gas if we can, find somewhere else to go. I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?" Lori Grimes asked coldly, "You can't not know, Rick."
"I don't know!" The frazzled sheriff shouted, "I'm thinking."
"You wanna stop shoutin'?" Daryl said, "You're gonna be attractin' all the walkers this way."
Rick sighed heavily, "We keep movin' forward."
"Walkers!" Glenn cried suddenly, raising his bat above his head. The group moved in unison, weapons pointed towards the moving forms. Tense and waiting for a good shot.
"Wait." Rick said, noticing an overly tall, broad muscled man, flanked by two smaller men, all of whom were heavily armed. "They're alive."
"They're what?" Andrea questioned, "They're alive."
"Why hi there!" A cheery Southern drawl sounded, "My names Andrew and are we surprised to see you."
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So.. Yeah, first chapter! Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoyed! I'm a little nervous cause there are so many incredible Daryl/OC fics out there!