EPISODE 1: JOIN THE CLUB
Sometimes, Clementine cannot believe they made it to springtime.
It's strange to her that the world still follows the seasons even when everything else has changed. The birds chirp and fly around, make nests and lay eggs like they always have. Flowers of all colors of the rainbow begin to grow again after winter's cold grip loosens, only to be crushed under the feet of wandering walkers.
Although it's now spring, the so-called rebirth of everything beautiful, Clementine still feels the chill of winter inside of her. The past season had not been so bad for her, Christa, and Omid; they had found a big house to hole up in and the most danger they had experienced was heading out on supply runs. Slowly but surely, they were making their way to the west coast; more specifically, Christa and Omid's hometown of San Francisco.
("Gotta see how Martin Van Purren is doing after all this time." Omid had told her, nudging her side and bringing a small grin to her face. Her smile was a rare occasion nowadays, but Omid had always been able to coax a few out of her with his antics.
"I still can't believe I let you name our cat that." Christa had murmured, rolling her eyes but nonetheless smiling as Omid began to list alternative names for their probably long-gone pet.)
The three months had passed in relative peace, or as much peace as was possible nowadays, and they were now back on the road, with a few pitstops along the way. Clementine feels weary as they walk through the empty streets, knowing that such silence did not ever last long, not anymore. Something always has to go wrong.
Just as she and Omid are about the cross the street, Christa stops them with a wave of her hand. "I see a grocery store just down the block. If we're lucky, there might be some stuff left." Christa tells them, pointing to the building in question.
"If we're lucky…" Clementine mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she surveys their surroundings once again. The very definition of a ghost town.
Christa shoots her a sharp look, placing her hands on her hips, wider now from her eight-month pregnancy. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"This town seems… empty. Everyone probably took everything and left when things went bad." She shrugs her shoulders and releases a bitter laugh. "And besides, when are we ever lucky?"
"Clementine…" Christa sighs, massaging the bridge of her nose as if even attempting to argue was giving her a migraine. "What else are we supposed to do? We need food, and this is our best bet. Our only bet right now."
The girl lifts one shoulder in response, reaching behind her to grab her gun as her other hand grasps the doorknob leading into the store. With Christa and Omid surrounding her in case anything pops out, she yanks it open quickly, holding up her gun immediately after. When nothing jumps out at them, Omid is the first one to creep inside, his knife held out in front of him defensively.
Inside, the market appears to be empty of any humans or walkers, but they keep their footsteps light regardless to avoid drawing any possible attention. They form a small circle in front of one of the registers to discuss their plan of action.
"We need to stay close, but we also need to get as much stuff as we can carry without weighing ourselves down. It doesn't seem like much is leftover, but just grab whatever you can find. And make sure to check for an expiration date, we're not hungry enough to eat rotten food." Christa whispers, scanning the signs on top of each aisle quickly before looking back at Clementine and Omid. "I'll take the beverages. Omid, look through the cereals and grains for anything that could still be good. And Clem, grab as many canned foods as you can fit in your backpack. Stay in sight, okay?"
Clementine and Omid nod in confirmation and move to their respective areas of the shop. The canned foods are located in the last few aisles, many of the shelves already empty from previous looters. She shrugs off her backpack and unzips the large pocket, walking down, grabbing whatever cans she can find, and stuffing them inside carefully, so as to not squish the other belongings she has on her.
Halfway through the aisle, she spots an isolated can of beans on a lower shelf. She plops to her knees, wincing from both the sudden pain and the loud noise she make from hitting the floor. With no hesitation, she reaches out to grab the can, her fingers barely clasping around it when a bony hand clutches at her wrist.
A scream bursts from her throat before she can even attempt to hold it down. She can feel the hand bringing her wrist closer and closer to its intended destination, and when she catches a glimpse of the other side of the shelf, she sees a walker laying on the floor, its bloody jaw inches from her trapped hand.
Distantly, through her ringing ears, she can hear Christa calling out her name and hurried footsteps a few aisles down. In a burst of adrenaline, Clementine brings the can of beans down onto the walker's wrist, over and over again. It's not enough to take off the monster's hand, but it loosen its grip enough for her to wrench her arm out and scoot to the other end of the aisle.
Clementine feels her back connect with the shelf behind her, her breath coming out in hard, short puffs as she realizes how close she came to being bitten. The walker's groans grow as it begins to drag itself through the shelf, its dirty and chipped nails clawing at the floor and its jaw snapping at her in hunger. She grabs her gun from where it's tucked in the back of her pants and doesn't hesitate before aiming and shooting the creature through the forehead.
Panting heavily, she leans back and closes her eyes for just a second. When she opens them, she sees Christa and Omid standing above her, concern written all over their faces.
"What happened?! We heard a shot!" Christa asks, kneeling down beside Clementine and holding her face within her two hands, turning it from one side to the other to check for any injuries.
Clementine simply nods in the direction of the dead walker hanging half outside of the shelf, its brain matter splattered over the tiled floor. Omid interrupts Christa before she's able to comment on the girl's successful kill.
"Uh… I think we have a problem." Christa and Clementine's heads snap up in unison to stare at Omid, who is staring wide-eyed down the corridor. Next to the frozen foods section, a door thumps with the weight of what sounds like multiple bodies throwing themselves against it with all their might. The Stockroom, a label pasted on the door reads.
With a loud bang, the door snaps open and a few walkers fall out, the first few landing on the floor and settling for a crawl while the others behind them begin to make their way over to where the survivors still sat, stunned.
Clementine is up and standing in a flash, aiding Omid while they both pull a heavily pregnant Christa up from off the floor. All three of them begin running toward the door but barely take a few steps before Christa doubles over in pain, clutching at her swollen belly and crying out.
"Shit!" Omid shouts, unholstering his gun and shooting at a walker nearby. "Clem, we need to keep her covered!"
The young girl rushes over to Christa's other side, taking a few deeps breaths - just like Lee told me - as she fires, one by one, at the walkers attacking them. "How many are there?!" She yells out, wondering why the heck so many of them had been stuck in that room in the first place.
Before Omid can answer, the front door swings open and they hear footsteps approaching them rapidly. Unable to look away from the walkers she's shooting, Clementine senses the person stop beside her and begin shooting at the remaining walkers.
With the help of another shooter, the number of monsters dwindles until the last one they can see crumples to the floor, blood spilling from the hole in its head. Omid is quick to kneel beside Christa, asking her if she's okay and if she needs anything, but Christa just uses him as a prop to struggle up onto her feet.
Christa has her gun pointed at the stranger in a flash, her voice curt as she demands, "Put your gun down."
The stranger - a black, stout woman probably in her 30's or 40's - locks eyes with Christa and nods, kneeling down to drop her gun on the floor and then lifting her hands up in peace. "Don't shoot, okay?"
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Christa fires off question after question.
The woman is quick to answer, her voice calm. "My name is Tavia. I do bimonthly sweeps of the area to look for recruits-"
"Recruits? For what?" Clementine interrupts, her eyebrows furrowed.
"I'm part of a camp of survivors up north, near Virginia and North Carolina. We have plenty of food, clean water, medicine-"
"We've heard this before." Christa says, raising an eyebrow and tilting her head to the side in disbelief. "Groups aren't really our thing. Sorry." She begins to turn around, gesturing for Clementine to follow her out the door.
"Hold on a second, Christa!" Omid exclaims, grabbing his girlfriend's wrist quickly. He stares at Tavia in curiosity, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Maybe we should just… hear her out?"
"We've survived just fine on our own these past few months." Christa says, tugging her wrist out of his grasp and crossing her arms over her chest.
"I know, I know… But what about when…?" He trails off, his eyes lowering to gaze at her stomach. Christa rests a hand on her bump, opening her mouth to retort but realizing that she had none to begin with. The same thought had been plaguing her for months, just as much as it had been worrying her companions. Months ago, when it was just her and Omid and their three-month-old baby, she hadn't been so worried about what would happen when the baby was born. In fact, part of her didn't want the baby anymore, not after witnessing how horrible this new world had become. But now, they had all come too far to lose this new life, this new bit of hope.
Tavia's voice breaks them out of their thoughts. "I get it. You don't know me from any of the other assholes you probably met in the past. But believe me when I say that we're building a real community, not like whatever places you may have come across before." Crawford springs to Clementine's mind, then. It had been an awful place, and it hadn't even lasted a few months - they had gotten what they had deserved, Christa had told her that much. "We have people of all ages in our camp, and plenty of food and medicine to keep your entire family healthy and fed. You'll all be safe there, I promise - I swear to you."
Clementine bites her lip, thinking over the woman's offer. It had been so long since she had seen another kid, not since… She closes her eyes, willing herself to let go of the image of Katjaa holding a pale Duck in her arms, wiping away the blood that he spat out whenever he coughed too hard. Duck had been so eager all the time, often too energetic for her to even attempt to keep up. But he had been the closest she had to a friend.
"I could give you some time to talk it out, if you'd like. I know you may not trust me, but I swear that we have a great community for you to raise your children in." Tavia continues, picking her gun up from off the floor and storing it in the back of her jeans, in front of her tucked-in blouse.
Omid turns around to face them, shrugging his shoulders and smiling hesitantly. "Maybe… vote on it?" After receiving two nods in response, he continues, his voice rising in enthusiasm. "I really think that she's telling the truth. And if they really do have all that food and protection… maybe things are starting to look up? What do you think, Clem?"
They turn to face her then, Christa's face closed off and Omid's open to her thoughts on the matter. "Well…" Clementine begins uncertainly. "I think we should go to at least check it out, right?" And there's a lot of bad memories in Georgia, Clementine thinks to herself, mental images of her treehouse, the motel, the pharmacy, and the train flashing through her mind.
Christa purses her lips and turns her narrowed eyes back to Tavia. "If we get there and we see something we don't like, we're leaving. And we won't let anything stop us. Understand?"
"You'll be welcomed there with open arms." The woman promises, smiling at the pregnant woman. "I don't know what you've all been through, but I swear to you that we're all just a bunch of people who are trying to get by. You have my word."
Silence lingers in the room at Tavia's heavy vow, and the three companions exchange glances before Christa nods and holsters her gun. The smile that breaks out over Omid's face is blinding. "So how are we getting there anyway?" He asks as all four of them begin to head out of the store.
Parked on the street outside is a dark blue car, the exterior and the windows streaked with dirt and grime. Tavia walks over to the driver's side, opening the door and quirking an eyebrow at them as they come to a stop on the sidewalk. "Better get inside. It's a pretty long ride."
Omid and Clementine lock eyes for for a long moment, and then simultaneously bolt for the passenger's seat. Behind them, Christa rolls her her eyes and wonders, not for the first time, how she got stuck with not just one child, but two.
Author's Note: Hi! This is actually my first multi-chaptered fic for TWDG and on ffnet in general ever, so I would love feedback and all that because I'm still pretty nervous about how people will enjoy it. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed, there's more to come soon. :)