Might As Well Be A Walker
DISCLAIMER: I do not own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I do not intend to receive profit for my stories. They are purely for the entertainment of others and to give me something to do with my ongoing boredom.
Talitha p.o.v.-
As I sat on my bedroom floor, my knees pulled to my chest I couldn't help but scream. I knew it was pointless, but the hurt was so bad that I couldn't sit still any longer. I started screaming profanities that I didn't even know I knew, threw things, and punched walls. After everything we had been through, the fighting, the arguing and finally, after him coming home from his military time served in Japan, the making up and we had ended like this? I don't know when, but somewhere between all the cursing, yelling, throwing and punching I blacked out.
When I came to I found myself face down on the floor, a stinging pain on my belly. Upon further examination I found that it was caused by shards of glass from a vase that I knocked on the floor during my rant then fell on when I blacked out. That's when I heard the sound that I would later find I would be hearing the rest of my life, a low moan mixed with the shuffling of feet across the floor. I turned around just in time to see the no longer lifeless body of my husband lunge at me. His bloody teeth snapped together each time he tried to bite me. Instinctively, I braced my forearm against his chest fighting him off of me. My adrenalin filled body was strong enough to push him down on the bed and fast enough to escape his swiping attacks. I felt his hand grab at my leg before I slammed the door on him.
"What the heck is going on? A crazed cannibal comes into my room, eats my husband, I kill it, and then my husband rises from the dead like some cheesy zombie out of a movie and tries to eat me?" I said breathing heavily. With my back against the door I reached into my shorts pocket, pulled out my cell phone an dialed 911, nothing. I then proceeded to call practically every number in my contacts list. Still nothing, no one was answering me. I left my post at the bedroom door to look out the hall window. What I found made the cannibal look like child's play.
Blood and bodies littered the streets, people were yelling and screaming while the cannibal people ran after them. "Ok Lila you have to think." I said to myself. There is a mass panic going on outside my house and judging from the lack of response to phone calls I'm assuming its at least state wide. What to do what to do? Military! If anyone could defend and protect it has to be the military that's what I'll do.
Ill go to the closest navy base, flash my military ID and bodda boom I'm safe, I hope. Problem is the closest navy base is in Gulfport Mississippi, that's 8 hours away, and something tells me that gas isn't going to come easily or cheap. It's just me so motorcycle it is. I don't have my license but I don't care, I know how to drive it and I'm good at it.
I go to the hall closet, pull out two duffel bags and a backpack then proceed to fill them with things I think would be useful. I start with putting clothes, tennis shoes, pictures and personal hygiene products into the backpack. I sling that onto my back them move on to the duffle bags. I fill the first with my husbands guns and ammunition for each. I also stick a taser in the bag. You never know what might come in handy in a situation like this.
The second duffle bag ends up getting filled with every non perishable food product from my kitchen along with half a case of bottled waters. I then remembered that it was going to start getting dark soon so I grabbed every flash light I had in the house, then I ran to the garage to collect my small stash of batteries. I saw something shine out of the corner of my eye, my dad's bow. I don't know why but something was telling me to take it on this trip. It, like the taser, had the potential of being very useful considering I'm a better aim with a bow than I am with a gun, having grew up with a dad that thought he was a Native American in a past life.
He taught me well even though I never went hunting with him, just target practice to satisfy his bugging me. So I grabbed the bow, finger guard, arm guard, and stuffed the quiver with arrows from the overflowing five gallon bucket. My father had also passed one of his hunting knives to me, so I grabbed it and secured to the belt I was wearing. I deposited the lights and batteries into the back pack for easy access, then the quiver, arm guard, and finger guard along with the rest of the arrows from the bucket went into the guns and ammo bag.
Was there anything I was forgetting? Yes, my wedding rings, they were in the bedroom where what used to be my husband was still pounding away at the door. That meant that I was going to have to kill my husband… I started tearing up again. "No Lyla he's not yer husband anymore. Yer husband died in yer arms. This thing is someone else, something else that is trying to kill ya. Ya have to give yer husbands body some peace." I said trying to convince myself. But it didn't work and tears streamed down my face.
What's the best way to kill one of these things? After thinking about it I realized the cannibal that killed my husband didn't go down until I hit in on the head with my camera tripod that was sitting the corner of my bedroom. So it has to be the head, great. With that I take a deep breath, release it then I open the door.
What used to be my husband lunged at me for the final time as I brace my forearm against his chest and plunged the hunting knife deep into the back of his head. I felt myself panting as numb tears fell down m face and he fell to the floor with a heavy thud. This is the first real look I get at him since it all began. He looks nothing like he used to.
My husband had pretty blue eyes, perfectly messy hair and tanned skin from working out in the hot sun as a navy Seabee. The only resemblance left in this thing was the dark hair. This creatures eyes were blood shot with milky white irises, his clothing was bloody and his skin was as white as a sheet. I felt more tears surfacing my eyes and I blinked them back. I couldn't mourn over my husband, not right now. Right now you have to get moving, mourn later.
When I had wiped my face free of tears I bent down and took the dog tags off of his neck. I took one off of the chain and laid it on his bare chest, if someone came in I wanted them to see that he was once a man of honor. I took his wedding ring off his finger and slipped it onto the chain along with the second dog tag, then secured it to my neck. These items would be a part of him I would always carry with me.
I slung the backpack onto my shoulders, I didn't know how to carry the bow so I put it across my back with the string across my chest, the curved part fit perfectly over the backpack. I carried the bags to the garage and secured them to the bike. With everything in place I sat down, put on the large helmet, slipped on my husbands riding gloves, then started up the engine. I rode up to the garage door and punched the button making the door slowly start sliding up. When the street came into view, I saw what looked to be fifty cannibals running towards me. Ducking, I gunned the motorcycle and flew out of the garage in the direction of the navy Seabee base.