Wow, another TWD fanfic. I just had this idea popped in my head. This time I might not add as many ocs like my other story. It's not connected so you can read that one after you read this one. It is my first one ever so I hope you enjoy it. Anyways, let's get started shall we? Disclaimer I don't own The Walking Dead, just my ocs and plotlines.
We all take stuff for granted. I know I have in some way. Especially now. I was always hard about prices on stuff in the store, quickly grabbing the cheapest option before paying and hurrying out of the store like it was hell. Well, let's just say that I was not one of those gals that had a silver spoon in my mouth since day 1, hell no. My dad had to work so often that I hardly saw him. The same went for my mother when me and my brother were old enough to take care of ourselves. Oh yeah, I have forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Payton Maeve Watson, strange name right? My brother is Owen Watson, such as simple name. My mother's name is Jane Frances Watson, and my father Jacob Watson. All simple names while I'm the odd one.
Obviously I went to school, once I came out of school with the grades I liked. I actually went into college to study literature and I graduated with a diploma. During my college years, I met someone very special to me, my best friend, Brooklyn Flores. She was French. 'Was'. You got that right? She passed away three weeks in the apocalypse. And yes, you heard right again. An apocalypse, and that's what I meant about taking life for granted. Where dead people are walking around. Because I never once, thought in a million years that it would happen. And here we are. What's left of humanity in a now dangerous world. What could possibly go wrong? A lot. A lot can go wrong.
I walked along the street, sweat dripping down my face and I furiously wiped at it. Damnit Georgia, you stupid humid and hot state. My bag resting on my shoulders with the clip secured across my chest is not making it any easier with it stocked of supplies that has been left in houses, the clip is just in case I need to run. The supplies, well they are for survival. For me and two others who actually helped me out after Brooklyn died. My hand grazed over my right pocket self-consciously. One of two photos that I have on me. One of me and Brooklyn and the other is of me and my family.
My handgun is sitting comfortably in my holster around my right leg with almost a full clip, I don't use it. I only use it when it is absolutely necessary. My machete is situated in my belt and a buck knife in it's sheath around my left leg. I use that too when I need to. But I mainly use my machete.
A gunshot rings out, breaking me out of my thoughts. Shit, Morgan and Duane. I break out into a sprint to the street where we are accommodated in one of the houses. Well, they found me, hardly any energy and it took me two weeks to talk to them after Brooklyn dying but I did gather supplies for them to thank them. Which started our... friendship. I don't exactly want to call it that as all the people I love have died, I don't want to get too close to people. When I mean have died, I mean my parents as well. I found their bodies in the living room, wrapped up in sheets, two bullet holes in their heads. But there was a note from my brother, his wife and two kids. Saying that they were here, that mom and dad committed suicide, that he didn't know where he'll go but will come back for me once he found some place safe and that he left a gun in 'our spot', knowing what I know he meant just in case anyone else broke in before me, but luckily I found it. Brooklyn freaked when she first saw it but toughened up when a day went by and that we had to use it on one of the dead.
I quickly round the corner to see a sight, Morgan, carrying a body into our house, and Duane with a shovel looking guilty.
"What the hell happened? Why the hell is there a guy over your shoulder, Morgs?" I question him, using the nickname that I accustomed to. He doesn't really care what I call him as long as it's not 'Mr Jones' or 'old man' then he is ok with it.
"He is injured." He just days and I nod at his answer. He could probably be of use, if he ain't bit. Not dealing with that at all. Duane opened the door of the house and I helped Morgan carry him inside to the bedroom that we don't use. We like to stay together.
We manage to get him to the bedroom and lie him down, that is when I get a good look of him. He is wearing a hospital gown and boxers, he is pale and quite thin, like he hasn't eaten properly and there is a bandage on his side. An old bandage. And there is fresh blood on his face.
"What happened?" I demand, getting straight to the point as I watch Morgan tying up the stranger in the bed.
"We thought he was a walker." Morgan states pretty vaguely.
"And?" I push. Come on, you just can't think that he's a walker. Yes, he is quite pale but seriously?
"I hit him in the face with a shovel." Duane interferes, quite proudly but shamefully as well.
I look at him in shock. "You what?!"
"Yeah. He called him 'Carl' and that's when we knew he was human. I had to shoot a walker as well." He explains and I give him a look. "I know it was stupid."
"Alright. I'm gonna cook us some food while you help the man out." I say before leaving. Duane walks past me with a baseball bat into the room.
I set the bag down and I quickly get to work on the food, heating it up on our makeshift stove. At least Duane put up the boards and the black out curtains, we won't have to worry about walkers seeing us. Not long after, Morgan and Duane emerge from the room.
"Is he...?" I draw out but Morgan shakes his head.
"He weren't bit. Gunshot." Morgan explains and I nod.
After the food is done, I was about to serve it up when I hear footsteps. I turn around and see the stranger up but with a dressing gown covering him. He needs some clothes.
"This place. It's Fred and Cindy Drake's." The man announces and I look at Morgan in confusion. Did he know who they were?
"Never met them." Morgan informs him.
"I've been here. This is their place." He carries on, heading to the window.
"It was empty when we got here." Morgan explains to him.
He goes to peel the curtains.
"Don't." I voice and he stops and looks back at me curiously.
"They'll see the light." Morgan adds on. "There's more of them out there than usual. I never should have fired that gun today. The sound draws them, now they're all over the street. Stupid... using a gun... It all happened so fast... I didn't think." Morgan rambles, sitting down and I hum in agreement.
"Yeah. You need to learn how to use quiet weapons. You'll waste bullets otherwise." I remind him, settling in my seat. Before Morgan could reply the stranger interrupts.
"You shot that man today." He says, horrified and I scrunch my face up in confusion. Morgan shot a person?
"Man?" Morgan questions, in as much confusion as I felt.
"It weren't no man." Duane interjects and Morgan gives him a look.
"What the hell was that out of yoyr mouth just now?" Mirgan asks his son and he gulps.
"It wasn't a man." Duane corrects himself.
The man looks between us like we are crazy. "You shot him. In the street, out front, a man."
"For him, you need glasses. It was a walker." Morgan tells him.
The man looks still confused. "Come on." He moans.
Morgan rolls his eyes. "Sit down, before you fall down. Here. Eat." Morgan urges, setting a bowl down in front of him.
The guy sits down and we were about to eat when a voice interrupts us.
"Daddy... Payton... Blessing..." Duane reminds us, looking between us and we nod. I'm not religious but I do this for Duane, ever since I first met these guys, even though I was quiet I still respected them.
"Yeah." Morgan agrees, holding Duane's hand and the man's, I really need to know his name. I hold Duane's other hand and hold out my own to the stranger. He takes it and I close my eyes. "Father, we thank thee for this food... Thy blessings... We ask you to watch over us in these crazy days. Amen." He finishes. I mouth the words before opening my eyes and digging in.
"What's your name?" I question the man, chewing the rest of my food, swallowing and scooping another spoonful.
"Rick Grimes." Hw introduces himself to me and I smile.
"Payton Maeve Watson." I reply and his face goes weird at my middle name and I laugh. "That's what I think of my middle name, don't worry." I calm him before eating once again.
"Hey, mister, do you even know what is going on?" Morgan asks, breaking the silence that fell on us.
Rick shakes his head. "I woke up today. In a hospital. Came home, that's all I know." He voices and my wide eyes meet Morgan's concerned ones. Shit, he's been asleep all this time? In a coma?
"But you know about the dead people, right?" Morgan questions him.
Rick nods. "Yeah, I saw a lot of that." He murmurs and both me and Morgan nod. "Out on the loading dock, hauling trucks." He continues and I tense up. He doesn't know. Shit.
"No... Not the one's they put down... The one's they didn't. The walkers. Like the one I shot today. Cause he would have ripped into you. Try to eat you, take him some flesh at least." Morgan explains to him and Rick's face goes into disgust and confusion. "But I guess if this is the first you're hearing, I know how it must sound..."
"They're out there now, in the street?" Rick questions.
Morgan nods. "Yeah. They're even more active after dark sometimes. Maybe it's the fool air or.. Hell, maybe it's just me firing up that gun today. But we'll be fine long as we stay quiet. Probably wander off by morning. Well, listen... One thing I do know... Don't you get bit. We saw your bandage and that's what we were afraid of. Bites kill you. The fever... burns you out. But then after a while... you come back." Morgan explains to him and he nods.
"Seen it happen..." Duane voices and Morgan claps his shoulder in comfort.
"Me too." I murmur and eat another mouthful.
Soon enough, Duane is sleeping next to Morgan. Rick is on my right while I'm in the middle of everyone. We sit in silence, not awkward, just peaceful.
"Carl... He your son?" Morgan asks, breaking the silence. "You said his name today..."
"He's a little younger... than your boy." Rick states and I hum in acknowledgement, letting the two men know I am listening in.
"And he's with his mother?" Morgan asks and I decide to sit up.
"I hope so." Rick admits.
"Dad?" A sleepy Duane asks.
"Yeah?" Morgan looks on intrigued by Duane being awake at this time.
"Did you ask him?" Duane asks, his tone sleepy.
Rick looks at them with curiousity and Morgan notices.
"Your gun shot... we got a little bet going. My boy says you're a... bank robber..." Morgan admits and I frown.
"Why am I not in this bet?" I question him and he shrugs.
"Duane says you'd win if you were in." Morgan points out and I hum. Better odds to winning I suppose.
"Yeah... that's me. Deadly as Dillinger. Kapow." Rick jokes and I crack a smile at his ways. "Sheriff's deputy." Morgan lets out an 'ah' at his words.
"I use to work in a coffee shop." I reveal and they both raise a brow at me.
"How do you know how to shoot a gun?" Rick questions, slightly intrigued.
A smile breaks out on my face without consent. "My brother, Owen. He taught me."
A car alarm start going off and Duane wakes in a panic but Morgan calms him down. "Hey, it's ok, daddy's here. It's nothing One of them must've bumped the car..."
"You sure?" Rick asks, getting up and I follow his lead.
Morgan nods. "Happened once before. Went off a few minutes. Get the light, Duane." He orders his son and he does what he says. We dim all the lights before moving the curtain to look outside, we're met with several of them. "It's the blue one, down the street. Same one as last time. I think we're ok."
"I hope so." I murmur. I don't want all of these walkers finding out where we are. Yes, I can take a few out but not this many. Plus, Rick doesn't know how to kill them, Morgan is ok, the same with Duane.
"That noise... Will it bring more of them?" Rick questions, thinking back to our conversation at dinner about sound drawing them.
"Nothing to do about it now. Just have to wait 'em out till morning." Morgan informs him and Rick nods at the answer.
"She's here." Duane breathes out, quite nervous. I frown and notice a female walker close to the house.
"Don't look. Get away from the windows. I said go! Come on!" Morgan whisper urges Duane.
Duane colapses on the bed and starts to cry and Morgan comforts him. Shit, his mother.
"Come on, quiet. Shh, shhh..." He soothes. I watch Rick walk to the door as I sit in my bed. "It's ok, here. Cry into the pillow. Can you remember? Shh..."
I watch as the doorknob turns and Rick backs away from the door and sits next to me.
"She, uh... She died in the other room, on that bed... Nothin' I can do about it here... That fever man..." He mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. "Her skin gave off heat like a furnance... Should have out her down, I should have out her down, I know that, but... You know what? I just didn't have it in me... She's the mother of my child." Morgan says and we fall silent, looking at the doorknob and it continues to turn left and right.
I take out my picture of my family and look at it sadly.
"Who's that?" I jump at Rick's question.
"My brother." I answer and point his face out. "My mother and father." I add, pointing out their faces. "Owen's wife and their two kids; Emilia and Christopher."
"What happened to them?" Rick asks and I shrug.
"My parents... well, they died. But Owen and the rest, they're gone." I inform him and he nods. We glance back at the door, seeing it still turning left and right.
After our long night, we eventually fell asleep, now we are heading to Rick's house to find his wife and son. I grab my bag, going to head out with him. I need to find Owen and the rest o my family. I can't stay here with Morgan and Duane, I can't.
"Are you sure... they're dead?" Rick asks, after stepping outside the house, seeing a walker sitting on the floor, leaning against the fence. "I have to ask, just one more time."
Morgan nods. "They're deas. Except for something in the brain. That's why it's gotta be the head." He explains to him.
The walker smells us, so it gets up and starts walking towards Rick. Rick has a baseball bat in his head and smashes it in the head several time. The thlunk and the crack of the brain fills my ears. Rick falls to the ground, wheezing.
"You alright?" Morgan asks as he walks past, Duane close to him.
Rick nods. "Need a moment."
I hold out my arm for him to take p, when he grbs it, I hoist him up.
We hop in Morgan's jeep and drive to Rick's house. Even though it's not that far, who knows where we'll end up driving.
We enter the house.
"They're alive. My wife and son. At least they were when they left." Rick informs us and I nod.
"How can you know? By the look of this place..." Morgan pauses, taking a glance at the inside. It is a mess.
"They must have left in a hurry." I commenrpt, looking at the state of the bedroom before going back to Rick, Morgan and Duane.
"I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes. Not a lot. But enough to travel." Rick explains.
"You know anybody could've broken in here and stolen clothes, right?" Morgan asks him. Ok, true. I get that.
"You see theramed photos on the walls?" Rick asks and I take a glance, seeing plain walls but have nails in them. He's right. Some random person ain't gonna steal random photos of a family. "Neither do I. Some random thief took those too, you think? My photo albums, family pictures, all gone." Rick comments, looking through an empty cabinet to prove his point.
Mogran chuckles darkly. "Photo albums... My wife... Same thing. Here I am, packing survival gear, she's grabbing photo albums..." He drifts off.
"They're in Atlanta, I'll bet." Duane announces.
Morgan sniffs and nods his head in agreement and I frown. "Tnat's right."
Why would they go there?
"Why there?" Rick asks, thinking along the same lines.
"Refugee centre. Huge, when they said it, before the broadcast stopped. Military protection, food, shelter... They told people to go there. Said to be safest." Morgan explains.
"Sounds safe." I compliment.
Duane nods enthusiastically. "Plus they got that disease place."
"Center for Disease Control. Said they were working on how to solve this thing." Morgan tells us.
Rick nods and walks away for a moment, I hear a jangle of keys before he proudly shows them to us and I cock my head to the side in confusion. What are those for?
After cramming into Morgan's jeep, Morgan parks up outside the Sheriff's office. Ah, that's what the keys are for. We walk through the back, Rick has a flashlight in his hand and we head to the locker room. Rick turns on a shower and it works.
"Gas and light have been down for maybe a month." Morgan informs him. It's easy to forget that Rick has been in a coma, he's accustoming to this world pretty fast.
"Station got its own propane system. Pilot's still on." He comments, a genuine smile on his face.
"Where's the ladies room?" I ask him and hw points to another door. I nod before I go through. I turn on a shower and get an extra pair of clothes out. Khaki jeans, a black t-shirt and a grey jacket. I take off my clothes, well, peel off them. I stuff them in my bag, except my brown combat boots, but leave my photo on the side, ready for another home. In a different jean pocket.
When I step under the shower, I almost audibly groan but hold it in. Holy shit. I haven't had a hot shower in a long time. I scrub at my scalp, washing the dirt and grime that has gathered there. After cleaning myself up, I wrap a towel around me and dry off, before I put my fresh clothes on. Stuffing my family photo in my pocket, I grab my bag and meet the others outside the locker room, who are waiting patiently.
"How was it?" Rick asks me, a smile on his face.
"Amazing. God. I'm so glad that you're a cop." I inform him, a genuine smile on my face and the boys chuckle.
We enter a gun room.
"A lot of it's gone missing." Rick points out and I nod. Seeing the very few guns but there are still a lot though.
"Can I pick one out for myself?" I ask Rick and he nods. I grab a handgun. A glock .22 and I grin. I put it in my bag, before grabbing an empty holater foe it and some ammo.
"What one did you get?" Rick questions me.
"A glock .22." I answer and he hums in approval.
"Dad, can I learn to shot? I'm old enough." Duane bribes his father.
"Hell yeah you're gonna learn. We gotta do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon." Morgan explains to him.
Rick nods in agreement, grabbing a bag for Duane, which he takes. "That's right. It's not a toy. You pull the trigger, you have to mean it. Always remember that, Duane."
"Yes, sir." Duane confirms and I smile at him.
"Go on." Morgan urges him to fill up his bag for ammunition. I watch Rick hand Morgan a Remington 700 with a scope on the end.
"Take that one. Nothing fancy. Scope's accurate." Rick informs him, Morgan takes it and looks into the scope and hums in approval, happy that he has a good weapon.
After we stuff as many guns and ammo as we could into our bags, we leave the station, going into the car park where Morgan's jeep is and the police car, which is what me and Rick will be taking to Atlanta.
"Conserve your ammo. Goes faster than you think. Especially at target practise." Rick reminds them and Morgan nods.
"Duane." Morgan calls and Duane looks at his father.
"Yeah?" He asks.
"Take this to the car." He orders, handing over a bag of guns to him. He takes it and goes to the jeep.
"You sure you won't come along?" Rick asks.
Morgan nods. "A few more days. By the end, Duanw will know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty."
Rick goes into the car and grabs a walkie-talkie and hands it to Morgan. "You got one better. I'll turn mine on, a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that's how you find me."
"You think they're here?" Morgan asks. I hope they are in Atlanta.
"Can't afford not to. Not anymore." Rick tells him.
Morgan nods. "Look, just one thing. They may not seem like much one at a time... but in a group all riled up and hungry... May you watch your asses."
"You too." Rick says.
"You're a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son." Morgan tells him, shaking his hand. Rick goes to Duane. Morgan looks at me. "Be careful out there, Pay. I hope you find your brother." He says and shakes my hand.
"I will. Same with you. Also, try not to hit anyone else with a shovel. They may not be as kind as Rick." I tease him and he chuckles.
"I won't be able to promise that." He jokes and looks at me carefully. "Thank you, for helping me and Duane out."
"It was no issue." I assure him and he nods. I see Duane looking at me and I smile at him. "Look after your dad for me?" I ask him and he nods, grinning.
"Yes, ma'am." He replies.
I notice Morgan looking elsewhere, I follow his line of sight to see a cop who is a walker, approaching the fence, that is separating us and him.
"Leon Basset?" Rick questions with recognition. Oh god, he knows him. "Didn't think much of him. Careless and dumb, but... can't leave him like this." Rick admits and I nod.
"You know they'll hear the shot." Morgan reminds him and I look at Rick.
"Let's not be here when they'll show up." Rick announces.
"Let's go, son. Come on." Morgan urges and they go to their car.
When Rick approaches Leon, I go to the police car and dump my bag before sitting in the passenger seat. Just as I close the door, a gunshot is heard.
Morgan honks at us as we leave the station and Rick returns it.
It was unknown to us that this will be the last time we'll see them for a long time and a start of an epic adventure, the start of an unbreakable friendship and family.
Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And also I hope you guys like Payton and the story so far. Anyways, please review, I would like to know what you think.