A/N: First off, I'd like to apologize for how long it took for me to get this out, I was busy gathering my thoughts into what was going to eventually become this chapter. :) I don't have much else to say except, of course, enjoy! Reviews would be super awesome, I want to make this story as fun to read as possible, so it helps bunches.
Chapter 2: This Broken World
The second that Willow heard the shrill sound of the man's gun being clicked off of safety, she dug the back of her heel into the rough dirt, ungracefully flinging herself around. She ignored the sharp sting of branches and leaves smacking against her cheeks, nearly stumbling over tangled roots spread across the dense forest floor as she ran. The weight of the smoldering Georgia sun beat down on her, unwillingly slowing her movements.
She heavily leaned against the uneven bark of a tree, her chest heaving in short, choppy rasps. It could have been a measly trick of the light, but she could of sworn there was a menacing glare hiding somewhere within his ignited irises. Even now, as she weakly supported herself on a rickety sapling, the sight of the memory flashing through her mind sent chills prickling across her skin.
The former policewoman was so engulfed in her troubling thoughts that she hardly noticed the wet, throaty gurgling noises that were steadily closing in on her. Willow's thin frame tensed as she heard heavy stumbles tromping through the dense thicket of brush, snapping twigs and loudly crunching leaves.
That was when she caught sight of them.
At least thirty of the pallid bodies were hurriedly stumbling towards her, liquid dripping from their opened mouths at the scent of fresh meat. She nearly gagged at the horrid stench of death that drifted up her nostrils, clogging her previously keen ability to smell. She fumbled with the holster attached to her belt, only, as soon as her clammy palms wrapped around the pistol, it slipped from her slick hands, tumbling onto the ground with a faint thump.
Willow felt a jolt of panic roll through her as cold, rough hands suddenly latched onto her frail arms, yanking her backwards with enough power to painfully dislocate her shoulders. She was forced to be held with her spine pivoted at an awkward angle, waves of aching throbs pulsing through her torso due to her lethal bullet wound.
She let out a horrified scream, desperately shoving the dead man's snapping jaw away from the sensitive flesh on her neck. She felt tears spring in the back of her eyes as she realized that she was going to die here, be hungrily slaughtered by an emotionless mass of these things. She could practically feel their rotting teeth tearing her to shreds, relentlessly ripping her limb from limb until darkness swallowed her whole. The unstable horde of walkers' yellowed irises gawked at her, so close now, not even a foot away from reaching their mid afternoon meal.
The color hurriedly drained from her worn complexion, leaving her features stained a ghastly pale. She roughly bit down on her bottom lip, ignoring the metallic taste of blood that washed over her tongue. Willow's weakened muscles began to ache, the inhuman strength of the creature causing her hands to quiver beneath the unfaltering pressure.
She let out one last weak cry, preparing herself for the burning agony that was soon to come. Willow allowed the memories of her childhood, of her whole life to surface, the images flashing through her mind as if she were flipping through old photographs. The heart rendering time that she had attended her mother's wedding when she remarried, their small, coordinated house scattered among a large neighborhood, of the short term friends that she had during high school, the cheeky smile of her baby brother. Just as the last shred of her hope was hastily withering away, tumbling barely out of her reach, a burst of adrenaline sparked through her veins. She couldn't, wouldn't die here. She didn't know her purpose in this broken and ever decaying world, but she was okay with lacking that fact.
She would find it, somewhere, somehow.
Willow weakly smacked the walker away from her, bending her trembling knees to snatch the ebony colt from the forest floor before the hungry flesh eater had time to regain its blurred senses. She used the sturdy trunks that dotted the wilderness to guide her on, ignoring the horrible moans of the undead that were undeniably on her heels.
She ran as fast as her shaky legs would carry her, bones aching after every slap of her shoe against the rugged earth. Her knotted locks of hair trailed behind her like matted apricot ribbons, standing out against the verdant browns and greens of the forest.
Willow threw a brief glance over her shoulder, painfully twisting her ankle on a sturdy knot that protruded from the parched dirt in the process. The walkers had distanced themselves some, mauled arms aimlessly raised to the rich odor of living muscle. She clutched the gaping, tissuey hole in her stomach, wheezing as piercing whims of white hot pain festered around the injury.
Soon enough, she found herself crossing paths with a faded highway, scattered with abandoned vehicles as a remembrance of the horrid past. The drained woman had somehow managed to escape the thirsty game of cat and mouse with the herd of biters, sparing her pointless existence. She shakily stepped forward, running her sore fingertips across the overheated hood of a rusted, white Chevy. Her gaze slowly swept upwards, raw shock tying her already flipping stomach into curdling knots.
The assembly line of vans, trucks, and even semis seemed to drag forward for miles on end, all leading up to the faint, hazy outline of Atlanta. She covered her chapped lips with the back of her palm, a sudden realization knocking the wind from her aching lungs once again.
The fleet of cars were facing opposite of the metropolis, turning their sun bleached backs to the clouded city. Every last one of them.
The scene seemed to have been a crazed panic of desperate need to flee the urban community. The corner of a crimson Camaro was firmly lodged into the side of an old pick up, forming a large dent along the front entrance. It seemed to play out the same way throughout the whole column, doors flung open, crusted blood dried on the lackluster pavement.
Willow muttered a light curse under her breath as she pulled her palm away from her chest, revealing a paper thin layer of bright red liquid spread out across the thick skin. She let out a gentle hiss, the sound of a rubbery object toppling onto the cement cascading through the area. She angled her body towards the quiet noise, sucking in a breath so fast that she choked on the sudden intake of air.
Biters, dozens of them, leisurely staggering through the small openings between vehicles, some bumping their frail, bony hips into the nicked metal. She hastily grappled with the handle on the nearest car, attempting to jerk the door open with damp fingers. It didn't budge. She repeated the action, this time with more unrelenting force, nearly collapsing with relief as it swung open.
Willow let out a strangled gasp as a decaying body fell from the front seat, flies buzzing around its spoiling skull. She wasted no time wrenching the carcass onto the road, crawling into where the deceased person had previously been. The smell of death still enveloped the now enclosed automotive, forcing a throaty choke from her mouth.
She merely sat there as the horde passed, weakly cupping her sweating face in her hands, ignoring the terrifying moans ricocheting just outside the glass windows.
And as Willow hunched over in the warm leather chair, she desperately, persistently tried to push away the malicious, worn grimace of Shane Walsh from her thoughts.
Shane advanced deliberately through the neatly trimmed lawn, throwing a brief glance at the rickety farmhouse as the aged structure came into view. His hand still grasped his trusty silver colt, winded from his unexpected reunion back in the wilderness.
He offered Carl a short wave, the action a measly flick of his wrist. The police officer's gaze unwillingly lingered on Lori, who was hunched over a wooden bucket, retrieving more laundry to hang on the clothes line. Dark, unruly hair fell over her sharp cheekbones, blue eyes stern and focused on the task at hand. He gritted his teeth together, she was Rick's, not his. Shane had recently been forcing his mind to constantly remind himself of that heart wrenching fact, accept the reality that he would never be a part of that family that he so longed for.
He eventually caught sight of Rick, who was flattening out a wrinkled map on the hood of a sky colored truck. The man's jaw was firmly set, the small hook between his thumb and pointer finger thoughtfully cupping his chin.
"Rick," Shane called, his tone gruff and somewhat unwelcoming.
Rick dipped the crown of his head towards the tips of his tarnished shoes, gaze brushing over his former partner's for a few heartbeats, not making any move to speak.
"Got something I need to tell ya," he muttered, comfortably leaning his elbows on the heated surface of the vehicle.
"What?" Rick asked lowly, the words escaping his lips as deep and raspy. He quirked a thin eyebrow as Shane's eyes flicked pensively, almost nervously around the camp.
"I, uh... I ran into Willow today. Saw her in the woods, didn't look so hot..."
"Willow?" Rick spoke slowly, the name forming oddly on his lips due to the lack of saying it for so long. Sudden images of the fair skinned red head bolted across his mind, memories of teaching her the ropes of being an officer, how she struggled with lining the sights of a pistol, the brief time that he had met Stanley, her little brother. "Willow Austell?"
Shane angled his head in a small nod, raking a hand through his lazily cropped brown hair. "I'm pretty sure she was injured, blood everywhere..." He gestured to the lower portion of his chest, as if to prove his point.
"Then why isn't she back here with you?" Rick inquired, his words holding a slight edge of suspicion.
"Turned my gun onto safety and she bolted," he shrugged, attempting to brush off the silent accusation hiding behind Rick's calculating irises.
"Was she bit?"
"Only one way to find out," Shane hinted, tongue swiftly slipping from his mouth to wet his lips.
"We have to go back for her."
