Hey everyone! This is my first Walking Dead story so bear with me if it's a bit rocky. I love suggestions for the story and reviews so read and write away!
The world went to shit in the dead of summer, right around the time of year where your shirt sticks to your back after a few minute outside and people joke about eggs frying on sidewalks. It didn't seem like anyone joked much anymore. Samantha Waverly had lived a normal twenty years before the dead started walking. She lived at home with her mother and father, went to a community college in their little Georgian town, and had a go nowhere job at a local bowling alley to help pay for classes. If the world hadn't gone on she would be transferring to a university and moving out and onward. But the world had.
Everything was very quick in the early days, panic and confusion ruled the streets. That's how Samantha ended up with Ed, Carol, and Sophia crammed into her car and how the four soon ended up at a quarry with the others. Samantha was constantly at Carol's house, tutoring Sophia and helping Carol out around the house while Ed was out. When she had thrown her few supplies into her little Nissan she had driven straight to their house to find that their car wouldn't start. Her car was now being unloaded, camps were being set up, and she felt so very alone.
Due to her lack of tent Samantha slept in her car, curled up in the backseat, in between the tent that housed Ed, Carol, and Sophia and the Dixon's tent. She was lucky enough to be parked in the shade of a big tree so that her car wasn't boiling by the end of the day. She refused to roll the windows down when she slept. At night she curled up in her car and tried not to cry but during the day she worked. Everyone seemed to have a job. Most of the guys were on watch for walkers or on hunting duty while the girls cleaned or did laundry. Samantha thought the whole end of the world things must have reenforced the glass ceiling or something. Samantha's job was to tutor Sophia and Carl, who still had some school books. Samantha liked it, she had thought about going into teaching.
When she had little gaps between teaching, eating, or sleeping, Samantha would lay in her car, her feet hanging out of the open door, and read. She had brought some with her, for some reason her mind had decided that in an apocalypse you need good reading material to survive, and after she read those she would go to Dale and read some from the RV. It seemed like some of the last bits of normalcy she had left.
"Whatcha reading?" A gruff voice came from outside the car. She put the book face down on her chest and propped up her elbows to see Merle Dixon leering. "Why don't you put that book down and come back to my tent? Betcha you'll have a better time there than reading some stupid book."
Samantha picked the book back up and laid down again, "Nah thanks Merle. I'm good."
"Come on, Sugar, you know you wan-" He was cut off by another rough voice.
"Merle cut it out. Don't you got someplace to be?" Daryl Dixon didn't speak much and Samantha was surprised to hear him. He got up and stuck her head out at the two men. While she always seemed to see to much of Merle she had never gotten much of a good look at his brother. He was tall and muscular, wearing a shirt that had the sleeves ripped off. His face was handsome but rough with five o'clock shadow and a scowl directed towards his brother. She wondered how old he was, probably in his early thirties. She realized she was staring a looked away. She heard Merle scoff and watched his boots as he walked away. She looked back up when Daryl spoke again. "Sorry about that."
"Not your fault that your brother is an asshole." She realized that might not have been the best thing to say after she said it. "Sorry. But thank you."
She smiled up at him. He just nodded and walked away. She watched him go off into the woods before she turned back to her book.
"Oh god it's so hot I think I'm going to die." Samantha complained to Amy. The two girls sat at the table in Dale's RV where Dale, Amy, and her older sister Andrea stayed. Samantha and Amy had become close friends. Amy was only three years younger than Samantha and it felt nice for the both of them to have someone who they could relate to.
Amy smiled but didn't look up from her magazine. "If you die we'll have to shoot you in the face."
"Why do you keep reading that? It's like three months old." Samantha wondered if any of the stars on that magazine were still alive or if they were somewhere trying to survive like them.
"It makes me feel normal to read it because I used to read these at home." That shut Sam up. She knew the feeling. "I saw you talking to the Dixon's yesterday."
"Yeah. Merle was bothering me but Daryl came up and got him to leave." Sam acted like it was no big deal but she had been thinking about Daryl ever since. She felt like a school girl with a crush. "Daryl's kinda cute."
"Oh my god do you like a Dixon?" Amy finally put her magazine down and looked at Sam, her mouth open with a smile. Sam blushed and laughed a bit.
"I wouldn't say I like him. I don't know him at all. I just think he's handsome."
"Oh hes handsome now?" Amy laughed. "He was just cute a second ago."
"Shut up" Sam said but both girls were giggling. "Besides he's like thirty. He's at least ten years older than me."
"Does that still matter? I assumed the whole dead walking thing brought about some changes." Amy deadpanned. "Are you going to talk to him again?"
"We live next to each other, Amy. I'm sure I'll talk to him again. Stop looking into it."
Amy rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath something Sam couldn't hear.
It rained that night. The little drops of water pounded off Samantha's car and every once and a while she could swear she heard footsteps. The sound made her tighten her grip on her knife, a gift from her father when things started to get bad. She had the knife and an old softball bat but no gun to protect herself with. Her parents had been strongly against guns. Sam doubted that they would have even had the knife if it hadn't been her grandfathers war knife. They hadn't been prepared and they paid the price. She closed her eyes and tried to remember carefully what her parents looked like, like she did every night. Her father was tall with broad shoulders and short black hair and one pierced ear. Her mother looked a lot like Sam did, a bit on the short side with pale green eyes and brownish blonde hair but her mother had a graceful way about her that Sam had never been able to duplicate. She knew that eventually she would forget which ear her father had pierced and what her mother's voice sounded like. Sam promised herself that one day she would go back and grab a picture. All she had from them was the knife and their wedding rings on a chain around her neck. With lonely thoughts she felt herself drift off to sleep. Right before she slipped under she could have sworn she heard footsteps outside.