Chapter 1: Birdsong

There always was somethin' about spending time in the woods that res'nated with me. Even now, some six hundred miles north'a what'd been the back country I'd spent my whole life mapping a way through, the air takes on that dusty pink color right before dawn. It floods itself over the Virginia mountainside, same as it did back in Georgia; back before all this. Back when I's growin' up and lookin' for something, anything, to keep me as far from the house as I could go for as long'a time as I could manage. The break'a day through a matchbook crowd'a skinny, dewy pines makes me feel more at home than just about anything else right now can.

Deanna must've known that, though. She's part'a the reason I'm out here. For as much as I feel like a fish outta water every time I walk into Alexandria, somethin' inside me believes in that place. Believes in her. She may not understand what kinda shape the outside world is in, or how dire the straits is, but Deanna ain't stupid, and she def'nitely ain't cruel. Hell, Alexandria sure as shit ain't no Terminus, and that's about all y'could hope t'ask for in days like these. It's like the bunch'us slipped and fell and accidentally found fucking Christmas when we first set foot in that town. Alexandria, that is.

"So, what do you think?" The sound of Aaron's voice took me a little by surprise. With our boy Eric on retirement, Aaron and I made good on our ritual of stayin' out beyond the gates for a few days at a time when we got some solid intel. We'd find a lead every once in a while; a few people, a small group. Then we'd spend some time trackin'm; watchin'm as they hunt and forage. We'd wait to see if they was workin' decent together. Wait to see if they's good people. Mostly we'd watch'm steal from one another. On the best days, we'd be held up at gunpoint tryna convince the good'uns to come with us. On the worst days, we'd head back for town hopeless as an empty barrel'a whiskey after they killed each other or got torn 'part alive.

But today was different.

"What do I think?" My words was gruff, like I ain't said a thing for days. Maybe I hadn't. "I think I ain't seen nothin' like it before, that's what I think." Here we are, two grown-ass men of the Apocalypse, hangin' on for dear life in the middle'a some branches that's twenty feet above the ground. He's over there squintin' behind a pair'a binoculars like somebody's withered old grandma, and I might as well be goin' blind tryna decide what the hell we's lookin' at from a hundred yards away. "I seen a lot since the end'a the world, man. But a couple'a broads pitchin' their tent up in the trees is somethin' else."

And it was somethin' else. Them two was somethin' else. I had spotted'm maybe four days ago, out on a hunt. Usually, the critters I look for stick to the ground, but there was somethin' about this bird call I kept hearin' that hooked me. It didn't sound like any bird I'd heard before; it was hollow and haunted and just plain sounded like good eatin'. The idea'a bringin' back a meal that wasn't a cottontail or a deer was enough to send me lookin'. With a bolt aimed at the sky, I tracked that damn bird for hours, waitin' for another bit'a song to keep myself on the course.

It must'a been around high noon when I came up beneath her; must'a held my breath for a coon's age waitin' for'er to call out again. But she did, and that's when I saw her. High above the forest floor, up there in the bounds skimmin' the blue. There was a a woman, with her hands cupped over her mouth, singin' that weird-ass fuckin' birdsong. I couldn't make out much of anything 'tween the sweat cloudin' my eyes and the white-hot sun right above her head, but I could sure as hell hear, and that was all I needed.

Aaron and I went out the next day and found her again in the very same way. We named Jungle Jane 'Birdsong,' and her comrade 'Watcher Girl,' since we ain't too creative. They'd been movin' steady for two days towards a small town with a few bum-empty shops and a clinic, settin' up their camp in some hammock-lookin' thing in the tops'a trees to avoid the fray. Birdsong would make sure the coast was clear from above, and Watcher Girl would scout below 'round a mile or two at a time. When Watcher Girl followed the call back to camp, they'd go on and move to the next spot, settin' it up all over again. It might'a been strange as hell, but it was smart as hell, too.

"No," Aaron tucked away his binoculars and gave me one'a them grim lookin' stares. The sun was above the slope now. "Not a couple." He continued,"I haven't seen Watcher Girl since sunset." Shit. That wasn't the type'a call to arms I was hoping for. "The other one is making moves, probably to go find her."

He didn't need to say the rest. The concern was all over his face, lookin' like somebody just knocked down his ice cream cone on the hot summer pavement. I nodded. "Let's get gone. They ain't long for this world if we lose'm."

And the last thing we want is to lose'm.

AN: Thank you for reading. All feedback is welcome!