I
(Italics = flashback)
There's many things that the past two weeks have taught her;
1. Everything has gone to shit.
With the outbreak of the dead, or whatever the hell those creatures are, she should've guessed it would only have been a matter of time before mass destruction occurred. They said that Atlanta was secured. That they were setting up a refugee camp as they spoke.
She remembers standing in a stadium so crowded with people that everyone was pressed up elbow to elbow against each other waiting to be told of their situation. The man on the radio had been so confident in his words. That was until the napalms were dropped. That was when everything changed.
It had been three days since the city was bombed and the smoke has yet to thin. She begins to wonder if it ever will.
She takes a breath and the smoke whirls patterns around her body and flows into her lungs. The thickness chokes her, forces a deep congested cough to rise from her chest. She hefts up the collar of the too-big jumper and drags it over her nose, uses the sleeve of her free arm to rub at the tears that dribble from her eyes. She stands still and listens, hopes that her unintentional noise didn't draw any unwanted attention to herself, after all, the last thing that she wants is to be found by people.
2. People are not to be trusted.
The wasteland that is Atlanta gives opportunity for ruthless living. People can do what they please, whenever they please, without any of the consequences that once kept people in line. People who are willing to do anything to stay alive now have the ability to do so. There has to be good people around still, but she's not too keen on looking for them when the chances are high on running into the dangerous ones.
It's night six when she realises that she's not alone in this huge city anymore. She sits with her back to the front door and her right-hand clenching with a tight grasp on the kitchen knife she had grabbed from the counter. She's scared that they're going to find her and she knows she won't be able to protect herself.
She doesn't know where they have been beforehand, but they're outside on the streets now, and they're dangerous. Maybe it's because the smoke has finally cleared, or maybe it's because they're bored. But she hears things that scare her, pleading and screaming and crying. Desperation that she hopes she never gets to understand. The sound is burnt into her memory and it's something that she doubts she'll ever forget. It reminds her why she hides, and why she's glad no one has found her.
Chances are if you started the new world alongside someone you knew before, they're going to change beyond recognition right before your eyes…one way or another. It's better to be alone. That way, it's harder to be disappointed.
The growl was loud and deep from the chest, something that she had never heard come from the voice of her best friend, and certainly not something that she would think to be human. She had stilled, fingers gripping the door handle that separated her from Cory and listened as the noise got louder and more desperate.
The last time she'd been in that room to check on the bite, the fever that graced Cory's skin burnt her hand, and was so sweaty, ghostly pale and frail that it didn't look like she was going to make it through the night. This thing on the other side of the wall was strong. It pushes against the chair she wedged under the handle, even the sobbing couldn't drown out the needy groan that emanated from the other room.
3. Hiding is always the best option.
The streets aren't safe to be on at any time of the day and with other stray survivors taking every opportunity to raid the places for supplies, people can become dangerous creatures with desperation running hot in their veins. It is better to stay inside. Preferably a place that looks looted or empty so that people aren't drawn to enter it. Something that is strong enough that it would hold up against creatures pushing against it.
Her first choice of a hiding place was a one-bedroom studio flat with concrete walls and colourful murals. It held up well enough, given the circumstances, but she couldn't stay there after Cory. She had the left the next day.
The second was an apartment she broke into when she took shelter from the creatures that were chasing her. It was slightly bigger than her former hideout, and despite the rotting food she had managed to scavenge some canned food, water and hygiene products. It was the bare minimum, and eventually she knew she needed to go outside and scavenge to stay alive, despite the danger.
4. Everything can be of use.
It's a hard job being out there on the streets with the dust and the debris and there is so much destruction that she has to wonder if there is even anything out there for her to take. She hasn't had much luck because she sticks to raiding places that are isolated, places that she hopes she won't run into others. Any buildings that had first came into her mind for being useful such as large malls and grocery stores were the worst places that she could go to alone because other survivors would also have it on their lists to raid. If she wants to find anything, well, she's just going to have to think outside the box.
The first time that she went searching for supplies it felt like a dead end. She had turned right at a t-intersection on some random street and hopped over a collapsed power-line that covered the stretch of the road in front of her. All in the hopes of getting her hands on that navy-blue backpack wedged under a car across the street. Hope that welled in her chest had collapsed the second that she realised the pack was attached to a body of someone who had died.
After much debate with herself she managed to pry the pack off the body. The retched goo that slipped over her hands was vile and she had vomited over herself twice, but the bag was filled with supplies so she deemed the experience useful. That was also the first time she saw one of the creatures.
5. The creatures are dead.
It's hard to explain because she's not so sure exactly what they are. They were people once. And then they died…and rose again. But one thing's for sure, they're not human anymore. She realises that just by looking in their eyes.
Dead, clear eyes is the first characteristic that she locks onto. They stare back at her with this lifeless vision as if they see right through her. She wonders if they can even see as a milky white layer covers all colour that once existed in their eyes.
They smell too, like roadkill that had been cooked under the sun for days on end. Decomposing, she supposes. A foul stench emanates from every orifice of their body. She could usually tell that the dead had been in an area simply by their lingering smell. If their odour made her gag even when she was a fair distance away from them, she wouldn't even imagine how bad they would be if she was close to them.
The smell brought tears to her eyes and churned the meagre meal she had that morning around in her stomach. It has got to be the worst thing she has ever smelt in her entire life. The smoke from the explosions had lifted but she would've much preferred that to this.
6. They're attracted to noise so be quiet.
If they hear you, they won't stop. If they become distracted by something, they'll keep going no matter what. They may not be fast, or smart, but while she tires and overheats, they just keep going. They're constantly moving, day and night seemingly doesn't bother them…nor does the heat.
It has been over week since the smoke's faded and the sun bakes her skin as she runs for her life. She hadn't meant to set off that car alarm, truly, she hadn't. She drew the creatures to her by setting that damn thing off, and now all she wants to do is lose them. Whirring away in the background, it's still going as she runs from it and the creatures that follow behind her. She's trying to get them off her trail so she can breathe again but every time she looks over her shoulder they're still there, still shuffling on unsteady limbs towards her.
It felt as though she had been running in the opposite direction for hours, sticky sweat flows from her skin and the air is that thick it aches to breathe. She wonders why the decomposing dead-alive-again bodies aren't suffering like her, how they haven't slowed in their movement towards her. She wonders if they ever will.
7. Survival is a lonely act.
Between keeping out of danger and trying to stay alive during the day, there's not much time for her to notice that she's alone. It helps if she keeps busy, but her mind spins at nights when she lies awake, willing sleep to come. It is at night when she begins to wonder whether she'll ever find people to speak with because a large part of her craves for some form of interaction with something that won't try and hurt her. Sometimes she finds herself speaking her thoughts as though testing whether her voice still works. She never thought that being alone would make her feel so empty.
The food that she scavenged hangs heavy in the backpack she has slung over her shoulders and she's sweating from the exertion of hauling it for blocks under the summer sun. At the doorstep of the apartment, she pauses for her a second and tries to ready herself for another long night. As she goes to open the door the tinkling sound of small bells to her left catches her attention.
Tucked in between a pot plant of withering flowers and the apartment door stands a cat. Its ginger fur is perked up in all different directions, its thin body in position to bolt at the first sign of danger. She blinks down at it, amazed that a pet could survive for as long as this one has.
Careful not to scare it with any sudden actions she folds into a crouch in front of it and holds out her hand. The thing looks shocked but hesitantly inches towards the outstretched hand and brushes its head against her. A soft purr vibrates through her hand as she scratches behind its ear softly.
"Hi," She whispers, a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "I'm Rachel. I bet you're pretty lonely out here all by yourself huh? Maybe we could be friends… I'm pretty lonely too."
Authors Note:
I know that this chapter isn't super, super great, but I just wanted to get this first chapter out because I've been nit-picking over countless drafts for months. This is just a short introduction to a girl who has been alone basically since the world fell and the apocalypse started. I wanted to capture the beginning of someone navigating in a new world because I find that super interesting. I plan to introduce characters from season one in the next couple of chapters! Oh yeah, this story takes place in season one, before Rick's arrival at the quarry!
I'm also planning to change quite a few things from what takes place in the TV show and putting my spin on the plot with my own characters.
Please feel free to give me opinions on this first chapter and thank you so much for taking the time to trial my story!