Nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide
Got nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide
It's not love, I'm a running from
It's the heartbreak I know will come

-Nowhere to Run; by Martha and the Vandellas


Guilt was a strong feeling. It could linger and fester for long periods of time, sometimes what would feel like forever. No matter how deep those feelings of guilt were buried, little remnants of it would remain. And those remnants would fester and linger until they, too, were buried and the cycle would repeat itself. Tamron saw guilt as ugly, but she couldn't stop herself from feeling that way. Maybe she wasn't directly responsible for their deaths, but it still felt like she was. She felt that burning, stinging feeling, as if she were being stabbed, in her chest, in the pit of her stomach. That raw, overwhelming feeling that would eat her from the inside out in those early stages. That was what guilt felt like for Tamron. The guilt of having to see her friends — her family — getting brutalized by some psychopath with a baseball bat. Having to hear that psychopath laugh and joke, as if Tamron's family didn't at all matter. As if she, and everyone in the lineup, were garbage.

So Tamron, in that moment, let the guilt stab at her, make her feel physically and mentally numb. She let it eat away at her emotions, feed off the fear and sadness that had riddled her in the beginning of it all. The guilt intensified when she saw the bodies, their heads bashed in so severely they were unrecognizable. Tamron was so caught up in her own world, she couldn't hear the sobs, whimpers, or stifled cries of her family. She felt lightheaded. She felt nauseous. Tamron felt as if every breath she took was painful, that she didn't deserve to be alive while her loved ones had been the ones to perish. How was she supposed to handle that? Maybe if she'd done something, he would've killed her instead. At least one of them would've lived. Wouldn't that create more pain? Was Tamron even thinking clearly?

Tamron's eyes went to the men who were surrounding them, looking down at them with either pity or spite. They held various weapons, all of them tense, ready to attack at a moment's notice. It didn't take a genius to know that no one in the lineup had it in them to try anything. They didn't have their weapons, they didn't have the emotional or mental strength. They didn't have the people.

Swallowing thickly, Tamron's eyes cast downward. Closing her eyes, Tamron tried to think of something else, of anything else. She tried to think of a time where this kind of devastation, this kind of heartache, wasn't as intense. Tamron's travels with Rick had been filled with heartache, plenty of good people had died. Maybe she was relying on that to try and get her through what was going on now, but it wasn't working. At least, hopefully, not yet. Maybe Tamron could use her feelings for her advantage. Maybe.

She'd just have to remember everything that led up to this moment.

~. . . .~

Tamron Hayes-Fitzpatrick had grown up in the Navajo Indian reservation in New Mexico. Her father a member of the Navajo Tribal Council, her mother a poet. Having spent her whole life living on the reservation, Tamron had a dream of leaving and traveling the world. For her parents, they thought it was a delightful dream, but their daughter simply didn't have the money to do something like that. That didn't bother Tamron at all. A few years after finishing school, Tamron packed up what little belongings she believed she'd need for her journey and left the reservation. It was at that point, though, that an unknown virus was starting to make an appearance. Tamron didn't take the virus seriously, she didn't think it was anything to truly worry about. That early in the outbreak, anyone who got infected was experiencing flulike symptoms. It wasn't until six months later, when she was in Mississippi, that Tamron learned just how brutal everything was.

The virus, at the six month mark, was taking its toll on everyone. Those who were infected were dying off at a rapid rate. The uninfected were panicking, having riots and lashing out. Tamron had been apart of some of those riots, and that was when she came face-to-face with one of the reanimated. Law enforcement had gotten involved, shooting down a lot of the rioters. Some of them came back, and started cannibalizing the survivors. That had been the first time Tamron experienced the true fear of the new world. Not long after the riots stopped, safe-zones were put into place. The uninfected were rounded up like cattle and sent off to the zones, anyone exhibiting even an ounce of sickness was sent off to nearby hospitals to be quarantined. The military was supposed to take care of the survivors, but they didn't. Tamron saw the soldiers abuse their power, and once all power and communications had been severed, that was when things got out of hand.

When the military failed to keep anyone safe, the rioting started again. People looted houses and stores again, more and more people were getting killed. Which meant more of the reanimated. Tamron and a few others managed to escape. They were left in a new, more violent world; barely any supplies and hardly any experience in how to take down the dead. They didn't last very long. A young woman named Hana had been the first to go. She tried to go on a solo run in a nearby supermarket to get more supplies, a small group of walkers got to her. Hana's daughter, Demetrius, died of sickness due to the grief of her mother's death. An older man named Freddie had gone insane due to everything he'd seen. Tamron watched him kill himself. The last member of Tamron's original group was a young boy named Nathaniel. He disappeared one night, while Tamron was trying to get some supplies. She never found his body. All of that happened over a span of three and a half weeks.

After that, Tamron decided she wanted to travel alone. At that point, Tamron knew how to take down the walkers. A hard enough blow to the head killed them for good. Whether it be from a stab from various knives or machetes, or a strong enough hit with a blunt object, as long as it broke through the skull and inflicted damage to the brain, the walkers were goners.

Tamron knew that the dead were slow and dumb. The walkers only had one objective — find a living being and eat them. They could be outrun, they could be killed easily. Tamron understood that. She was doing her best to avoid humans. She saw them as the real problem. Humans became unstable in moments of true fear, they did everything in their power to survive, even if it put others at risk. Tamron couldn't afford to have her life taken for the benefit of someone else's. Tamron would not allow it.

Eventually, as time went by, Tamron started to grow accustomed to the nature of the new world. She could effortlessly take down the dead and keep herself hidden from the living. For the most part, at least. There were a few run ins, but Tamron was able to get herself out. She went from city to city; town to town, finding supplies and trying to survive. She didn't stay in one location any longer than necessary, she couldn't afford to. Tamron had to keep moving, she had to keep herself moving. That is, until she found herself in Georgia, where she'd eventually encounter a group of survivors.


(A/N):

Not the best first chapter, but I hope you guys can at least tolerate it. If you've got any constructive criticism, don't hesitate to let me know. I think it's important when reviewers give some advice on how to improve.

Nothing in TWD belongs to me. All I own are my characters/subplots and a love for the TV series and comic series.

How many of you guys have seen the newest adaptation of IT? I think that Skarsgård guy did a really good job at Pennywise. Plus, I think the kids did a really good job, too! What did you guys think of the movie?

Let me know if there's anything I should improve on.

Thanks.

Kaia Milligan