A/N: Obviously I don't own any of this, otherwise I'd be hella rich. I'm just a big fan in need of some Walking Dead drama. And since the show is off for a while this seemed like a perfect outlet. Questions, comments, and suggestions are all welcome as long as you are polite and courteous. I'm all about constructive criticism and I know I'm no Chuck Palahniuk or Jonathan Safran Foer, but please be kind.
Quickly I'd just like to explain that this takes place a little after where the season 2 finale leaves off. The farm is gone and the group is looking for somewhere safe to hole up. I thought it would be cool to put them on a little journey before they get to the prison so that is where my story comes in.
Please enjoy and let me know what you think. :)
"Hello?"
Daryl padded cautiously out of the stairwell onto the second floor landing. His voice echoed down the quiet hall. The walls seemed to shudder in revulsion at the foreign sound. It felt stupid, so he did it again.
"Hello?"
There was water dripping softly somewhere, but beyond that his words were a lonely howl in the otherwise silent halls. The place had been lost to time and slumbered on, oblivious to his presence.
Drip.
Drip.
A dirty hand rubbed tiredly at hair crunchy with dirt and grime. Muttering incoherently in frustration he lowered his crossbow satisfied for the moment that he was alone. He shuffled into the first room on the hall and went straight to the window that looked out on the parking lot. Below he could see the rest of his group waiting while he secured the main building. He was always the one jumping in first and risking his neck for the pack, no back up, and never so much as a thank you.
Drip.
Drip.
He watched as Rick, Hershel and Glenn split up to check out the neighboring buildings, most likely for supplies. There were only a few more rooms to look into here, but he was fairly confident the office was empty. If the silly wallpaper covered in zoo animals was any indication, this place was some sort of pediatrics facility. The paper they used to cover the patient chairs had yellowed with age but was otherwise smooth, untouched. It was possible they'd be able to scrounge up some medical supplies.
Moments like this were rare, moments alone. Daryl let out a long sigh and pressed his cheek to the cool glass, thankful for the break.
It had been almost a week since the farm was overrun. After his outburst that first night Rick was mostly silent, no longer benevolently conversing with the whole, but choosing to discuss only with Hershel his plans for the future. The men rarely talked, all in somber moods. The women never missed a beat when it came to their nagging though. The worry and stress probably only made it worse these past few days. This group was so loud, so constantly dramatic. Daryl could only take so much of it. It was truly a miracle they'd made it this far.
He closed his eyes and took another deep calming breath, his crossbow held slack at his side. That's when he heard it, the groaning. It was faint at first. He waited silently a moment, just to be sure. More groaning followed and then glass shattered somewhere farther down the hall. He moved toward the sound immediately at the ready. The groaning got louder now as he closed in on the turn in the hallway.
"Piece of shit!" A girl's voice hissed as more glass broke, this time accompanied by a sickly wet thump. Just as Daryl rounded the corner he set eyes a tall dark woman taking a baseball bat to the rotting corpse of what was once a nurse. Another swing to the nurse's temple and she was down for the count. The window behind her was shattered. If she noticed Daryl she paid him no mind as another geek came through the door next to her and lunged at her throat. She dodged and it crashed into the gaping window, arms and chest dangling out. Grabbing one of its legs she heaved it over and out onto the concrete below.
"Howdy!" She exclaimed breathlessly without batting an eye. She wiped her hands on her ratty black jeans and bent to pick up her fallen bat. Finally she set eyes on him, leaning against the wall in an attempt to catch her breath. He stared at her stupidly, not sure how to react.
"So much for being stealthy am I right?" She grinned and nodded her head in his direction.
"Two more coming up behind you." She mentioned conversationally. He turned in surprise and caught the first one with a bolt. The second came at him before he could reload. He shoved it into the wall and quickly took his knife to its temple. Turning back he found the woman engaged with another who'd popped out of the side room.
"Where the fuck are they all coming from?" She huffed indignantly as she tussled with the big bloody dead guy.
"A little help here! If you'd be so kind?" The girl hollered almost comically. Daryl shook himself and loaded another bolt, leveling it on the walker. She shoved it into a desk and ducked out of the way just in time. The bolt went clean through his skull.
"Thanks." She breathed.
"Sure." Daryl went to retrieve the bolt, the wet squish now a familiar sound as he dislodged it from the geek's eye socket. Turning back to her he found himself gazing down the barrel of a gun. She shrugged apologetically at him but made no move to back down. Dark green eyes twinkled at him in amusement. She'd caught him completely by surprise and was obviously enjoying his confusion.
"What the…"
"I'm gonna need you to hand over all your weapons kind sir." She tried politely still smirking. He almost laughed at that, shocked at her bravado. This only served to piss her off. She leveled him with a glare, tightening her grip on the gun.
"You think I'm kidding. Why do they always think I'm kidding?" She said more to herself than to him. To communicate just how serious she was she cocked the trigger, loading a round into the chamber and effectively startling him.
"There we go, now you're listening. First I want you to toss me that bag." She nodded toward the patient bed behind him, on it was a large satchel full of supplies she'd been gathering. So she wasn't big on sharing, that much was obvious. He put his hands up in supplication and eased toward it.
"Zip it up before you toss it pretty please." She instructed sweetly. He grunted angrily but did as she asked, holding back any snide remarks.
"Now your pretty crossbow. Slide it over." He pushed it across the floor and slid the pack of bolts after it, knowing it would be next. She grabbed them quickly and slung them over her right shoulder, never lowering her gun.
"Your gun." She made a gesture with her own gun at his trousers, knowing he hid one there under his shirt.
"Come on! You'd leave me defenseless? That ain't fair." He pulled it out all the same, reluctantly sliding it to her.
"Tough luck cowboy. And don't play me for a fool. You still have a knife, not to mention however many of your friends waiting outside. I'd say you've got a fighting chance." She bit out sarcastically, tucking his gun into the back of her jeans.
"You can keep the knife. I'm feeling generous-like today." She said the last part in an awful imitation of a southern accent, clearly mocking him as she freed her curly dark brown locks from under the straps of the supply bag. She leveled the gun back on his forehead having strayed momentarily toward his nether regions.
"Alrighty, pleasure doing business with ya old man, but I've really gotta get going." She backed towards the door, gun on him the whole way. He tested a step, and then another. She paused in the doorway.
"Just to clarify, if you try to follow me, I will shoot you. I'll even do it with your gun, just to be poetic." She smiled ironically at him, "Tell your friends I said hello." With that she grabbed for the door to slam it shut, finally lowering the gun. He made to follow, lunging at the doorknob before she could close it fully but she'd already beat him to it. It was locked from the outside. Through the little slit window on the door he could see her disappearing down the back stairwell.
"Son of a bitch!" He slammed a fist into the metal door and turned quickly, making for the stairwell at the front entrance.
((o))
Lena forced the heavy door closed with all her might, a metallic thud met her success. The door knob rattled, signifying the man's attempt to pursue.
She nearly shat herself at the sound.
Thank god for whatever idiot installed the lock on the wrong side of the door.
"Oh shit. Oh shit. Shit. Shitty, shit, shit!" Lena breathed over and over again in a panic. She nearly tumbled down the staircase in her haste to get away, taking two steps at a time. Her footsteps echoed noisily through the empty stairwell. Worn-out brown boots clacked loud against the old rusted metal of each stair.
Stealth be damned. She'd already been found out.
She should've listened to Tyrone, stuck to the plan. Bad things always happened when she decided to improvise. And for what? All she'd found was fucking baby aspirin.
Doctor's office my ass! She quipped internally.
She could already hear Tyrone and his judgey voice: "Damn it Lena! Every fucking time!" Oh boy! She couldn't wait.
There was no way she could outrun that redneck guy, even with the head start. Finally reaching the bottom floor she burst through the emergency exit. The daylight was blinding. Tenting long tanned fingers over her eyes she scanned her surroundings frantically forming an escape plan.
The exit let out to the back parking lot where she'd first noticed them. And she'd noticed them much too late of course. She counted only five men, all heavily armed, from her hiding place in the doctor's office. Five too many and she could guarantee there were more. But they'd scattered the perimeter long before she caught sight of their vehicles, so she couldn't be sure just how many more.
Getting out without being noticed was highly unlikely by that point.
Scattered was okay though; She could do scattered, one at a time. She had a fighting chance that way. A group of them, not so much.
She hurried toward their abandoned cars. If she was lucky they'd been careless and left the keys in.
Reaching the closest one, a red Chevy, she threw open the door and searched desperately for a set of keys. Finding nothing she abandoned the first car and moved on to the second. Again there were no keys to be found. She heard footsteps followed by a throat clearing and turned to see an Asian boy who looked to be near her age. He stood a few feet away next to the open driver's side door of a beat up old pick up truck. He eyed her nervously. There was no sign of any of the others from his group nearby.
Perfect.
"Thank you for being small." She whispered to herself, running straight at him. She could tell she had the upper hand, being a good head taller. He whimpered and reached for something in the cab of the truck. Turning back to her he took a stance and raised a small crowbar, fear written clearly all over his face.
He thought she was a walker.
Damn, do I really look that awful? She thought, indignant, her step faltering a beat.
It hasn't been that long since I showered. She made a mental note to find a new change of clothes should she be lucky enough to escape her current predicament.
"No, no! It's okay. I'm alive! I'm alive!" She protested before he could take a swing at her. She continued toward him, knowing she was running out of time. That redneck guy would be out here any second.
The boy was obviously relieved she wasn't a walker and lowered his weapon, giving Lena just enough time to get close and clock him in the face. She took the crowbar easily and shoved him away from the truck. He crumpled to his knees, blindly grabbing for the truck door in an attempt to stabilize. His nose gushed, running red all down the front of his shirt that was already crusted over with old browning blood.
She almost felt bad. He never even stood a chance. But she knew she'd be much worse off if she didn't get out of here fast.
"Sorry dude! No hard feelings. Heat of the moment and all." She patted him awkwardly on the head even as she hopped over him into the truck. He groaned pitifully, still trying to right himself. Lena caught sight of the keys lying on the dash and sighed in relief. She grabbed them quickly and shoved them into the ignition. The old pickup sputtered to life.
"Candy from a baby." She muttered to herself, leaning over to close the door. The boy made one last feeble attempt to stop her. He twisted a bloodied fist into her shirttail, still clutching his nose with the other.
The redneck rounded the corner then. The lines of his face were contorted in absolute rage. His face was positively red and his brow slick with sweat.
Lena had never felt the fear of God until that moment she laid eyes on the angry man. All her nightmares of redneck stereotypes taking literal form. She sped her efforts in sheer terror.
Catching sight of the situation he barreled toward them with renewed fervor, cussing loudly the whole way. Lena muttered a curse of her own and snatched the Asian boy's wrist away from her shirt.
"You'll live. Suck it up." She assured him with a shove backward. His butt hit the concrete and he rolled into a fetal position, now holding his face with both hands.
Quickly slamming the door she shifted gears and gunned it out of the parking lot. For the moment she forgot she was an atheist and praised whatever higher power might exist as she observed the redneck disappearing fast in the rearview mirror. He gave up after only a block and doubled back, more than likely to get a vehicle to better chase after her with.
Never slowing down she turned into every neighborhood and back road she could find until she was certain he hadn't caught up to her. She finally idled on a small cul-de-sac and reached into the supply bag to fish out her walkie. Taking a deep breath she turned it on and mentally prepared herself for the wrath of Tyrone.
"Ty. You there? Over." She waited, met only with static for a few moments. Finally a crackle. Tyrone's voice filtered through like music to her ears.
"We're good to go. Where are you? Over."
"Can't say. We have company. Definitely hostile. I might have a tail. You know the drill. Over." Lena admitted with a wince. His response was instantaneous, clearly agitated with the news.
"Damn it Lena. Every fucking time!" She would've smiled at how predictable he could be if she didn't feel like crying right then. She waited to see if he had anything more to add.
Knowing Tyrone he'd save the good stuff for when they were all back at camp. Ripping her a new asshole was one of his favorite pass-times. Of course it was only because he cared.
When he said nothing more she clicked back in. They couldn't leave the walkies on for much longer.
"Sorry buddy. Stay safe. Maybe I'll be back in time for supper. Over and out."
"Don't do anything—" She didn't give him a chance to finish with the lecture, shutting the walkie off and tossing it back in the bag.
From then on it would be radio silence. She was on her own now. As long as the others were safe she was more than okay with that. They had a rule. Protocol if you will. They always split up on supply runs, just in case they ran into other survivors. In the event of an encounter (or near encounter) they would cut all communication and find their own ways back to camp. It was an attempt at keeping their base and everyone inside it safe, especially if the encounters were of a less than friendly nature, and they almost always were.
Desperate times.
Desperate people.
This was a whole new world. A whole new game and not everyone liked to play nice. They'd learned that the hard way last time.
Last time.
She'd never let that happen again. No matter the cost.
Lena groaned and bounced her head against the steering wheel, exhausted. The adrenaline high of her escape was winding down fast only to be replaced with absolute dread at the knowledge that she had to go back. Or at least get as close as she could without being discovered.
Taking a deep calming breath she reached a hand back into the supply bag. It took only a second to find the pack of Marlboros stashed there in a hidden pouch. She fished out a lighter as well and quickly lit a cigarette, taking a long drag as she scanned the cul-de-sac for walking corpses.
Sometimes she forgot there were dead people walking around. It was the living ones that scared her more as of late.
She took another long drag, working up the courage she needed to go back and retrieve what she'd forgotten in her race to escape.
She'd left something very important in the woods nearby and if she dared to turn back up at camp without it her dedushka* would murder her.
No exaggeration, the man was a former KGB agent and certifiably bonkers.
Steeling her resolve she checked the streets once more for any signs that she'd been followed and reluctantly began the drive back toward the medical complex, praying to any deity listening that she would make it through this unscathed.
*dedushka or in cyrillic: дедушка, is grandfather in Russian.
Questions, comments, or complaints?