It has been a dreadfully long time since I've tried my hand at a fanfic. I generally write original stories, but I am a huge fan of The Walking Dead. And, I found myself wondering where the animals in the show are! As a dog owner (German shepherd, to be exact. You can go to my profile to see a picture of my dog, who is the model for the dog in this story), I don't think I'd leave my dog behind unless I had absolutely no choice. No, my dog would be right there alongside me at the end of the world if I had any say in the matter, and I like to think there are other people who feel the same way. So, I decided that I would try including a character of my own in the Walking Dead story; a character with a dog.
Chapter 1
Kate was awoken by the soft sounds of growling in her ear. For a moment with her eyes still closed, she could pretend that everything was the way it was supposed to be. She could pretend she was in her warm, comfortable bed. Her German shepherd dog was snuffling her wet nose against her arm because the sun was up and that obviously meant it was playtime. The sun was streaming through the bedroom windows of her small apartment and shining down her face.
The illusion was broken when she heard shuffling against the exterior of the truck. Sitting up and grabbing her baseball bat in one fluid, practiced motion, muscles tensing almost to the point of snapping, she peered through the driver's side window. Not surprisingly-and she shuddered to realize such a thing was commonplace now-the man standing outside her window was dressed in tattered gray rags that had once been a nice suit, but now was covered in tears and various bodily fluids. His lifeless eyes stared back at her, his mouth gaping open hungrily as thin fingers reached through the small crack between the window and frame. There was a deep gash torn out of his neck, and congealed blood was dried to his gray flesh and shirt. Something had taken a nice chunk out of him, when he'd been alive.
"Get your own truck," Kate hissed, rolling the window down just far enough that she could rear back and slam the end of the bat against the walker's head. The walker fell back, collapsing on the pavement. Without waiting for it to get up again, she turned the key in the ignition and sped away.
Beside her, Ruger, her dog-and the only thing left from her old life-grumbled uneasily. Reaching out, she patted the sable German shepherd and gave her a good scratch behind the ears until the dog settled down on the bench seat of the small truck once more.
Speaking of the truck-.
Kate checked the fuel gauge. "Son of a bitch, Ruger. We're going to be walking soon. We're out in the middle of nowhere. Not a damn car in sight."
Ruger yawned, apparently unconcerned.
It was true. She wouldn't be able to siphon fuel from another car or gas station if no such thing existed in the backwoods where she found herself.
"We just had to go to this stupid dog training expo in Atlanta-freaking-Georgia for the weekend, and the next thing you know, the world's coming to a grand ole fucking end. This is your fault, you know," she told Ruger. "We just had to come here and check out all the handsome stud dogs. I only came to this God forsaken hellhole for you, you ungrateful little bitch."
The bitch in question sat up and licked one long, wet strip up Kate's cheek.
Kate chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. I love you, too."
"Son of a bitch!" Kate kicked the fender of the little black truck and glanced around at their surroundings. All things considered, it was better than being in the middle of the city-where her hotel room had been when all hell broke loose-but she really didn't fancy walking until she found another vehicle to steal.
But, it didn't look like they had much of a choice.
She reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a .38 revolver, along with the box of bullets that went with it. She stuffed the box into her bag, which also had three bottles of water, two rolls of toilet paper, a small towel, a change of clothes, a leash, and a bag of dog food. She had a small pocket knife in her right jeans pocket, and used a rubber band she found in the middle console for pulling her auburn hair into a bun. The Georgia heat was sweltering. Ruger, sitting outside the truck waiting for her, was panting in the thick air. Grabbing her bat, she kicked the truck door closed and glanced up and down the road.
"Which way should we go?" She asked the dog, who followed her blue eyed gaze with her own deep brown one. "We can really only go one way," she explained. "Forwards. Or else walk all the way back to Atlanta. Or cut through the forest, and God only knows where we'd wind up if we did that."
Ruger gave a soft growl-bark and stood. "You want to go into the woods? Really?"
Ruger barked.
"Ahh, okay! Be quiet. Geez. You just want to go under the shade, don't you?"
When the dog did nothing but stare impatiently, Kate sighed.
"Okay, then. Let's go into the mysterious forest. Lead the way, pup. But I just want you to know: if you get us eaten, I'm taking it outta your ass."
After several hours of walking, Kate began to think the forest was never going to end. Ruger was happily trotting beside her, her tail wagging happily at the prospect of an adventure. Kate wasn't worried about her running off; she had trained her from a young puppy to walk off-leash. Even when she took her for walks around the block back home, the leash was just a formality to keep other people from feeling uncomfortable at the sight of an eighty pound German shepherd coming toward them with nothing but the owner's confidence in the dog's listening skills to keep them safe.
"I am about to need a break, little girl," Kate said. Finding a fallen log, she sat down heavily and pulled out a bottle of water. "Ruger!" She pointed at her feet, and the dog trotted over and sat down. After taking a drink for herself, Kate tipped the bottle up and allowed Ruger to lick several mouthfuls of water.
It wasn't until Kate glanced behind her that she realized they had been walking up a steady incline since departing from the road-which she couldn't even see anymore.
When Ruger suddenly raised her head and stared hard in one direction-slightly to the right of the direction they had been walking for the last several hours-and emitted a low warning growl.
"Great," Kate grumbled. She reached into her open backpack and silently drew the .38, thumbing back the hammer. "Bleib," she whispered to Ruger-the German word for 'stay'. The last thing she needed was for her dog to go chasing after mysterious sounds during the end of the world.
There was a tense moment where nothing happened, and Kate was about the rule it a false alarm when she heard a soft thump overhead. Raising her head, she was just in time to see something small and brown charging toward her.
"D'ahh!" She shrieked. Dog and woman leapt simultaneously-Kate leaping away and Ruger leaping toward whatever it was.
"Ruger, lass es!" She shouted as quickly as she could without stumbling over the words. Ruger froze over the furry object and huffed, unhappy with being told she couldn't play with it, and Kate inched forward, waving Ruger's face aside so she could get a better look.
"It's a squirrel. I just got kamikazed by a mother fucking squirrel...with an arrow sticking out of it." She glanced around, then back to the squirrel. "Why is there an arrow sticking out of it? Ruger, lass es!" Kate waved the dog away for a second time, and the canine huffed unhappily and sat back on her haunches.
"Best not let that dog eat my squirrel!"
Kate had never moved so quickly in her life, whirling around and raising her gun. Ruger positioned herself in front of both Kate and the squirrel, not growling but wary.
"Your squirrel?" Kate repeated, staring at the man before her. The dirt on his face, neck, and bare arms suggested he had been out here for a few days, and the crossbow aimed at her was steady and gleaming-the only clean thing about him. He obviously took good care of it, probably in a similar way to how Kate took care of Ruger. Also, based on the squirrel corpse at her feet, he had damn good aim with it.
"I shot it."
"What, do you live out here or something?"
"Not out here," he said, but offered up no more information.
"You got a name, or should I just call you Davy Crockett?" Kate asked, not lowering her gun.
"You want to make introductions with your gun in my face and your dog staring me down?"
"You got a crossbow in my face."
"How do I know you won't shoot me if I put it away?" He asked.
"And what would I shoot you for, your squirrels?" She sneered, noting the string of dead furry things around his shoulders.
The man huffed. "Put 'em down on three," he suggested. "One...two...three."
At 'three', they both lowered their weapons. Kate released the hammer on her gun and tucked it into her belt.
"Name's Daryl. Dixon," the hunter said, stepping forward and eyeing Ruger warily.
"Kate St. James," she replied, sticking out her hand. When Ruger saw this, she relaxed and stepped toward Daryl to give him a good sniffing, seemingly very interested in all the many smells on his dirty boots.
"Fancy name," he commented, shaking her hand with a firm grip.
"I don't hear that often or anything," she said, stooping down to wrap her hand around the arrow sticking out of the squirrel. She picked it up, squirrel and all, and handed it to Daryl.
He chuckled, then pulled the squirrel off the end of the arrow and set about adding it to his string of tiny corpses. Ruger followed him when he sat down on the fallen log, moving in so that she was leaning against his leg. He rolled his eyes at the canine but paid her no more mind, as she only sniffed at the squirrels and made no move to try and steal one.
"She's friendly when food is involved," Daryl noted.
Kate was surprised he'd noticed Ruger was a female. Most people assumed she was a male because of her wide head and large size. At eighty pounds, she was bigger, and also taller, than the standard weight and height of a female German shepherd dog. Kate had once put a pink collar on the dog to help others recognize her gender, and the people at the pet store still called her a "good boy".
Kate giggled. "So, where did you come from?"
"Could ask you the same thing," Daryl responded.
"We have been walking up this damn ridge for hours. My truck ran out of gas down there at the road."
"I'm with some people up at the quarry."
"People? How many people?"
He shrugged. "Over a dozen. Couple of families. Couple of others. You're welcome to come. They say to bring any survivors we find." He slanted a look over at her as he stood up. "Didn't expect to find anyone out here, though. Much less somebody with a damn mutt."
"She's not a mutt," Kate said with gritted teeth, then realized she had given him the reaction he was looking for. He was smirking at her.
"Does she hunt?" He asked, as though to assuage her rising fury. He eyed Ruger, who had returned to Kate's side and was sitting on her feet and leaning against her legs, looking up with big puppy eyes until Kate reached down and scratched her ears.
"Never tried. It's worth a shot."
"Come on, then. We'll see if we can't catch a few more things before headin' back. It's a long walk." He eyed her for her reaction.
"Ruger will love it then."
He made a face. "You named your dog after a gun?"
"You are not allowed to judge me. I'm not the one walking around with a squirrel necklace."
"Don' be jealous."
Kate snorted.
"Come on, let's go."
Kate whistled. "Ruger, fuss!"
Daryl shot her a questioning look. "It's German for 'heel'."
"'Course."
I'd really like to know what people think of this idea, and whether or not I should continue! Review, review!