Right before her eyes was a black, savage looking crossbow, poised for use. The hands holding it were steady, still, and rough from use and hardship. They were hands that had seen the world, and fought it.
Her eyes followed the crossbow, and found a dark figure behind it, staring at her behind black hair. Beneath the strands, glued together by dirt and moisture, a pair of piercing eyes threatened to shoot.
Gradually, Evelyn shifted her arm beneath her to sit up, ever so slowly, keeping her eyes on the eyes of the intruder. They followed, as though they were in sync with the crossbow.
"Anyone else here?" A thick southern voice asked, sounding loud in the silence of the vast room. It was rough, but not as threatening as she expected. She shook her head. He barely moved for a moment, deciding what to do. Finally, he dropping the crossbow to his side, and she let out a sigh. "Thanks. For the rude awakening."
"By your reaction you knew this place was occupied."
The girl shuffled to sit on the edge of the shelve, her blade still in her hand. A flicker of moonlight caught it through the window, glinting in a way that he noticed. He didn't look too bothered by it, but his crossbow rattled in reminder. "What's your point?"
"You shouldn't have been sleeping with these guys around," he commented off handedly, scanning the room, the shelves on the opposite side. "Theyre not safe."
"Which means you aren't," she retorted, keeping her keen eyes on him. She watched how he moved, how his steps were almost silent with little effort. He scanned everything, as though he were an expert.
He turned his back to a metal shelf and grabbed the edge, hoisting himself up. He lay down, his head gently thudding on the surface. "Almost as good as the coffin; you don't snore do ya?"
Evelyn stared for a moment, so long that his eyes appeared behind his chest. "Right?"
She blinked for a moment, shaking her head. "So?"
"So what?" His head thumped back down.
"Are you dangerous? Like your group?"
She waited for a reply, gripping her weapon even harder. She waited for moment after moment, unwilling to rest until he replied. She was sure he'd fallen asleep in mustering up a reply, probably a lie of some sort.
"Not like those guys," a quiet voice said.
She thought about that for a moment, wondering whether to trust him. Of course she couldn't, he was a stranger. As he slept, he kept his weapon next to him, in his hand at the ready.
But so did she. How was she different?
...
Daybreak glared into the room, brighter than usual, creating a dull glow on the matt surfaces around her. She checked the time; 5 40am, and sat up groggily. The man from last night was still there, laying on his back, and Evelyn took the chance to get a proper look of him. Hopping off her bed, she remembered his warning over the group of men he was with, and landed with as much caution as possible. She checked the door, which was closed, and took her weapon with her to check on him.
The man was laying there lazily, sprawled in a way that was relaxed, but aware. His leg was propped up, bent at the knee, exactly how it was when she last checked, just before she fell asleep. His clothing was tattered, mostly black, and when she found his face, she was surprised to find he was kind of handsome. His skin was tan from exposure, his thin face, making him look perhaps mid thirties. His hair was in fact dark brown, falling clumsily over his eyes, which, to her mortification were open.
But they weren't on her, she noticed, as he scrambled for his crossbow, pushed her out of the way, and aimed it at the place behind her. She turned, finding a large group of middle aged men, eyeing her with looks of something twisted, perverted. They looked occasionally to their friend with suggestion and threat. "Well, what a find."
"I don't think that shit has a claim on this," another man said, while the oldest looking one at the front approached the man stood in front of Evelyn, defending her. "Don't you fucking dare, Joe," he warned calmly, and Evelyn wasn't stupid. She knew the look in those eyes, and the intent of the men. That didn't mean she was going to go down without a fight.
"Daryl, you know the rules, right son?" The elder man laid a daring hand on his shoulder, confident of the man's trust in him. "Go outside if you wont join in."
"Join in what, Joe?" The man, Daryl, asked, and the girl behind him couldn't take her eyes from him. Contrary to the fatherly hand, just being taken away from his shoulder, there was no sign of a relationship between them. Daryl eyed him with nothing more than hatred, and the others were loving it. "Come on, just kill him."
Jack looked behind to the group, egging him on like scared kids waiting for the school bully to give that one quiet kid a beating. They anticipated it, just for entertainment.
"What do you think, sweetheart?" Joe asked, turning to smile at her. "What do you want to do?"
He eyed her up and down, meeting her eyes last. "Yes..." he murmured.
The crossbow shifted before him, but suddenly, a flick-knife was in Joe's hand, and he threw his arm in the path of it, attempting to remove it from Daryl's hands. Evelyn watched, and felt her body move automatically as she watched what he was going to do, the knife flying to the archer's head, wielded by the scruffy looking man, red in the face and laughing mechanically. She buried the katana in his stomach, yanking it out, just in time for Daryl to adjust and shoot the man in the head. They both stared down at him as he fell, surprise the last emotion that imprinted on his face. The others were already running towards them, and Daryl was shooting. Evelyn ran forward, stabbing and thrashing the katana, ignoring the fact that she was killing people. Something started when Joe moved to kill that man, and she simply couldn't let that happen. He defended her; he might be useful to have around.
Within seconds it was over. Blood gathered on the floor, mixing from which ever man it came from, and She couldn't help but watch. Her knees felt week, but she noted that she couldn't feel a thing. She felt fine, she told herself.
"Come on," a voice said, taking her elbow. She didn't flinch, she just watched.
"Youre in shock," he added, and the girl turned her eyes to the man. He looked concerned, and when she noticed the blood splatter on his face, she was plummeted back. She rubbed her face, and stared at the smears on her fingers. As her eyes began to water, she met the light blue eyes of Daryl.
"You've never killed before, right?"
It seemed pathetic when he said it, pitiful. But he was right, she had never killed a person. Walker's didn't count now.
"Hmm."
The corners of his mouth twitched in sadness, and she looked down at herself. Her dark blue top was damp and bloody, fresh drops sinking into the fabric. Thankfully, her shorts were fine, but she felt the need for a shower.
"Who were they?" She asked him, and noticed he was grabbing the weapons from the bodies. She didn't feel bad for them at all. "They found me about a week ago."
"You mean-"
"Im not like them," he said, still trudging around, taking knifes, arrows, guns. "I...im sorry. I didn't know...they were like that." He straightened up, a larger crossbow thrown on his back. "If I knew..."
"Please...its okay."
He stopped, and he did so as though he was really looking at her. For the first time.
"So...got a name?"
For the first time in a long time, she smiled, by accident, and that became a laugh. Daryl watched her as though she were cracking up on him. "What?" He asked defensively.
As she began sobering up, she shook her head. "Names matter, still?"
When he didn't reply, and simply stared at her, she smiled kindly at him. "Eve. Nice to meet ya, Daryl."
He nodded curtly, and took the new found weapons over to one of the shelves to organise them.
"So, why did you stay with them?"
He turned his face to her. "Hmm?"
She returned to her bed to retrieve the bag of her own weapons, which were mostly knives and handguns she didn't know the name of, and landed it next to the new finds. "Why did you stay with them?" She needed something to distract her, and, while it was probably the least distracting subject at the time, it kept her mind busy. She was also intrigued by the man.
He shrugged. "They weren't the most friendly of people; kept me with 'em."
She chose not to push for more, and instead looked down.
"Been alone long?" he asked gently, and she finally pinpointed that look in his eyes. Shyness. Reservation. Small talk wasn't his forte, but it's all they had for the moment.
Eve smiled sadly his way, her eyes gliding from the guns on the surface to his eyes. "A little over a week. You?"
At first he was confused by her question, but she'd already decided there must have been another group before this. He wasnt far gone, not as much as she thought someone alone during the end of the world should or would be. "I just figured, you're too... I don't know... Human."
When he gave her a unidentifiable look with his piercing eyes, she almost elaborated. However, he began talking before she could figure out how to word it. "What are you most comfortable with, guns or knives?"
She stared at the now sizable number of options before her, and waved the bloody katana half heartedly, before looking at it. "Im thinking I need something new after this."
Without looking at her, he scanned for a viable replacement, and handed her a slightly larger one. Its hilt was green and tattered with fabric covering it. "How about this?" She stared at it for a moment, and then looking to her trusty old blade. She didn't think she could part with it, until she watched the streams of fresh blood dribble over her hands. She exchanged it straight away, and nodded in thanks.
...
Why he trusted her so easily was a question that begged his attention for the rest of the day, and one he wouldn't entertain until he was nearing sleep. The day passed without incident; after the weapons were sorted, she showed him round the building, apparently a former storage unit, and allowed him to take whatever he needed for comfort; cushions, small items of furniture, nothing useful beyond making a person in denial comfortable that life wasn't so bad. She didn't talk much, neither did he. But what really bothered him was how she could trust him, at all. He'd been with Joe's men, ate with them, undured them, fought with them, but on the surface he was no different. He even dressed similar.
How could a girl trust him after bringing those monsters in with him was something he couldn't comprehend.
