I have enjoyed reading each one of your comments and I greatly appreciate them all! Leyshia Gisel, I want Marlie to be tall, like 5'8" tall, so big feet is a must. It also helps in making her a little less conventional than most characters. :) I'm jealous of Marlie, to be honest. Size 11 is a dream compared to my size 13!
And onward to another chapter! Also, I DO NOT own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. No copyright intended.
Necessary Nouns to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter Three: Senses
The sulfur shelf mushrooms were an unusual shade of orange that reminded Marlie of a time when she was younger when her older brother, Jack, had spilled orange paint all over himself.
As most older siblings did, Jack had blamed the mess on Marlie, who was too shy and passive to object and prove otherwise.
She had since gotten better at speaking her mind when necessary, although up until a day ago, there had been no one to speak to at all. Everything was suddenly so different. The world went from quiet and dead to busy and crowded. It wasn't that the camp was too full, but Marlie simply wasn't use to so many people in one area. And they were alive, no less, which was a good thing, of course, but it was going to take some time to get use to.
"Better be here when I get back," Daryl had warned the slender woman before departing with Rick, Glenn and T-Dog toward Atlanta in hopes of retrieving Daryl's brother.
Now Marlie felt obligated to obey. She still wasn't sure about sticking around forever, but she'd at least wait for Daryl to return. God, she couldn't believe how she was feeling towards that man. He had a rugged appeal to him that drew Marlie in like a moth to a flame and she cursed every second that she was in his presence because closeness only resulted in more pain in the end. And yet, Marlie felt wrong to be away from him now. Being stuck at the camp with a bunch of overly-curious hicks who were always asking questions like, "Where ya from?", "You plan on stayin' long?", "How'd you get such big feet?", "What was life like before the world became an undead hell?" was mini hell for her. Every question put Marlie that much closer to snapping. Sometimes, she missed being on her own. At least then she didn't have to try and come up with vague answers to sate their curiosity and keep them from knowing too much.
The last thing Marlie felt like doing was delving into her personal life. Where was she from? "Atlanta, the city that now belonged to the dead." It was more than that, though. The divorce between her parents sent her there with the only sane parent: her mother. She couldn't afford her own place, even at age twenty-six, so she lived in her mom's house, helping with rent for the cozy two-bedroom condo. Meanwhile, Marlie's twenty-seven-year-old sarcastic brother—Jack—lived just down the street in his own little man cave of an apartment, visiting Marlie and their mother regularly.
Did she plan on staying long? "I'm not sure yet, to be honest." No, she really didn't plan on it, but ever since she bid Daryl goodbye when he left to go find his brother, Marlie had begun to second-guess her initial decision to not stick around. She hadn't planned on meeting the rough and rugged hunter in the forest the day before. She hadn't planned on him flirting and her flirting back. And she most certainly hadn't planned on hanging around the camp for more than a day. Marlie just wanted to go back to her Challenger that was parked down a gravel road several miles out from the camp and head back to the old cabin far beyond the city that she had been resting in for the past several days. Then she'd move on again until she found something worth sticking around for or until she became one of the walking dead. But Marlie had found something worth her time and attention, although it was more of a someone.
Where did her big feet come from? "My five-foot-ten mother." No further explanation required.
As for what her life was like before the outbreak, Marlie had lived a comfortable life close to her family, aside from her father who had become an alcoholic over the years. She had friends, a writing job at an important Atlanta newspaper company, a cat, no boyfriend, but she was too busy for one anyway. But she would have been lying if she told someone that her existence was a happy one. The fact was, Marlie was depressed and lonely more often than not.
And the few smiles that existed, the little bit of cheer she spread, the "morning, Mom"'s and "hey Jack-Jack"'s were eliminated from her life in a flash.
But she thanked the gods that she was regularly kept busy, to keep her mind from wandering and widening the hole in her heart. Whether it was helping quiet Carol clean the laundry or gutting fish with sisters Andrea and Amy, Marlie always had something to do. And right now, Hawaiian-shirt Dale had given her the task of scrounging up whatever mushrooms she could find.
"How do I know which ones are poisonous?" she asked Lori.
"Well there's only one way I know for sure."
Marlie frowned. "Great." But once she set eyes on the sunset-orange mushrooms jutting horizontally from a half-dead tree just beyond the camp, Marlie knew from experience with her dad that they were edible, and quite delicious, if she remembered correctly.
So she yanked handfuls free from the tree trunk and dropped them into the yellow pale she had been given for collection. The shrooms smelled fresh and wild and tickled Marlie's sense, causing her stomach to rumble angrily. "No," she objected, glaring at her bellybutton. "Don't start. You wait until dinner."
"Uh," began a man's voice from behind the young woman.
She spun around with a start and sighed when it was just Morales. "Hi."
He cast a half-smile in her direction. "So, uh, who were you…talking to?"
Marlie's eyes widened a little. She'd been bossing around her tummy and had been caught in the act. Wow. She could only imagine how sane she didn't look just then. She laughed nervously. "My stomach. It was growling."
Morales nodded his head slowly. "Gotchya."
Damn her foolishness. This was just another reason why she enjoyed traveling alone; there weren't people around to judge you when you started talking to your organs.
"Well, Dale just sent me out here to check on you. He doesn't like people wandering off on their own."
She nodded, understanding. "Yeah, sorry about that. I think I've got enough shrooms to last everyone a lifetime anyway." Marlie extended her bucket to the man before her, revealing to him the extent of her mushroom collection.
"Damn," he said, smiling contently. "That's…a lot of mushrooms. How do you know they aren't poisonous?"
"My dad taught me a few things when I was younger. But there's only one way to know for sure," she joked.
Morales nodded again and allowed Marlie to shyly pass him to head back to camp. He followed closely, protectively, until they were both in view of Dale up on his RV.
The man, however, seemed to have his attention focused elsewhere.
Marlie handed the bucket of shrooms over to Lori before following Dale's gaze.
"Wow, that's a lot of mushrooms," Lori said with a surprised tone.
Morales agreed before heading off elsewhere.
"I didn't think there was this many in the entire forest. You know, we could probably save some of these for tomorrow."
Marlie glanced at her with a questioning stare.
"Tomorrow is Amy's birthday."
"Oh. I'm sure there's enough. I don't mind getting more if there isn't." She then turned towards a high hill about a half-mile away from camp. "What's he doing up there?" Marlie asked, completely forgetting about Lori's mushroom comments.
Lori glanced at Dale and then towards the hills to which he was staring at. "That looks like Jim."
Marlie looked around the camp in search of the tall, bearded man who she had learned was named Jim, but her search came up empty. She turned back to the sunlit hillside. "Why is he digging?"
"I haven't the slightest clue," Lori replied. "Dale!" she called out, hurrying off towards the RV with Marlie on her heels. "Dale, is that Jim?"
The older man lowered the binoculars that were glued to his brown eyes and said to the women, "It sure is. I'm going to go check on him."
Marlie's brows were furrowed as Dale climbed down the RV and headed off in Jim's direction.
"I wonder what that's all about."
Shaking her head, Marlie couldn't come up with an answer for Lori. Quietly, she muttered, "I'm going to go clean these up."
Lori just nodded.
It was odd that someone was up on a hill, digging. Was there something that had to be buried? Marlie wondered. Maybe the camp had a garden or had plans of making one and Jim was just turning the soil. She shook her head at the idea. The camp couldn't stay there forever, let alone long enough to grow anything. Everyone had seemed relatively alarmed after Marlie had mentioned the walker that she and Daryl had come across while hunting the day before. It wouldn't be too much longer until the dead found the little camp.
Therefore, a garden was out of the question. So what was Jim doing? Marlie spent the next fifteen minutes boiling the mushrooms over a small fire and throwing ideas around in her head. But her thoughts were interrupted when she spotted Dale making his way back into camp.
He wore a worried expression. "I don't want to alarm anyone, but I think we have a problem." Once all eyes were on him, he looked over his shoulder towards Jim, who was still digging.
Marlie frowned, but stayed put when the group followed Dale up the hill. She continued boiling shrooms, watching the campers disappear through the trees. A stick from a ways away suddenly snapped behind her, causing her muscles to tense and her eyes to widen. She spun around and unsheathed her knife, posed to strike. There was nothing to be seen, but Marlie failed to relax. Turning her nose upwards, she stood up and inhaled deeply. Trees, earth, mushrooms, and fish from Amy and Andrea's catch. Nothing more. Daryl crept into her mind in that instant and worry suddenly filled Marlie's heart. "You better come back," she mumbled under her breath, catching sight of the group already returning and putting her blade away.
Shane had Jim's hands restrained behind his back. He sat the heat-stroked man down against a tree, where he proceeded to restrain him further.
"What happened?" Marlie asked Dale.
"He was burning alive up on that hill, digging holes and ranting about how it had something to do with a dream he had last night."
Marlie looked on with curiosity tainting her ocean eyes. A short time later, she found herself standing next to Dale, the two of them looking down into one of the many dug-out holes in the dry Georgian dirt. It was disturbing, to say the least. "They're graves," she muttered beneath her breath.
Dale stared down into the ground, realizing that Marlie was right.
TWDTWDTWD
"Put these three fingers like this and put your thumb right here." Marlie knelt beside young Carl, gripping the handle of her long knife with her index, middle and ring fingers down one side and her thumb on the other. "When you throw, just flick your wrist and let go." She aimed at the ground a few feet away from her and threw. The blade punctured the center of a hand-drawn circle in the dirt. Bull's eye.
"Cool!" exclaimed Carl. "Mom, did you see that?" the boy asked Lori behind him, who watched on with a smile.
She nodded kindly, sending her smile towards Marlie in silent thanks. Lori had been nice enough to allow Marlie to teach her son the basics of knife-throwing, which was a good way to distract the two women from the incident with Jim. It was also a good skill to have and it wasn't hurting anybody.
"Okay, now you try it." Marlie adjusted the boy's finger positions along the handle until it looked proper enough. "Remember, flick your wrist and then just open your hand."
Carl's face became full of determination, completely ignoring the setting sunlight in his eyes. Tiny beads of sweat dribbled down his brow from the ninety-degree heat, but that didn't faze him, either. With a fluid hand motion, the blade struck the earth, landing blade-down into the ground.
Marlie laughed, surprised at the Carl's accuracy. Granted, the knife was barely in the wide circle she had drawn for him with a stick, but it was close enough to make Marlie proud.
"Good job, kiddo," congratulated Shane who appeared beside Marlie.
She didn't give him the light of day and didn't plan on doing so for a while, not after his little chokehold stunt against Daryl the day before. Shane had wound up on Marlie's shit list after that and that was a place no one wanted to be.
He could see by the look in the woman's eyes that he wasn't quite yet forgiven about attacking Daryl, even if the hunter had been the one who started it. Still, out of courtesy, Shane kept his distance with Marlie and didn't bother speaking to her. It would be futile to try against the stubborn woman who reminded him of Daryl himself sometimes. So he simply nodded at her before ruffling Carl's hair.
Marlie was quick to note the unhappy expression on Lori's face at that moment. "Good throw, Carl," she said in an attempt to keep Carl's attention from his now angry mother. "Wanna try again?" She didn't even like kids, but Carl was a trooper. It made sense, though, since the kid had gone through hell and back with the whole zombie apocalypse.
The boy beamed. "Yes, please!"
"Well, lets hold off, Marlie. Dinner's ready," announced Dale near the firepit, waving the rest of the group over to eat.
She nodded and retrieved her knife before joining everyone in a mushroom-and-fish feast.
Stories around the fire were being told, memories were being shared, happiness was being spread through the weary souls of the camp. Everyone had their minds on the mission taking place in Atlanta and everyone had worry weighing down their hearts.
But Dale was doing a pretty good job of keeping the people sidetracked with his quirky tales and silly jokes.
Marlie joined in the laughter occasionally, but didn't say anything. She sat back and nibbled her food, glad that her stomach had finally quieted down.
Beyond the group, a breeze shuffled the trees and tents and played with Marlie's hair, tickling her scalp.
"Be right back," Amy chirped, standing up.
"Where ya goin'?" her blonde-haired sister asked.
"I have to pee, if you must know."
The campers giggled and Amy smirked. "Sorry," she apologized sarcastically, ushering more chuckles.
It took Marlie only a short time to finish her meal and an even shorter time to notice the silence from the world beyond the campers. There were no sparrows singing their late afternoon choruses. No raccoons chattering beyond the tree line. Nothing. The only sound was Ed—who had laid hands on Carol down by the water earlier that day and was beaten half to death by Shane—coughing in his tent just beyond the fire's glow and a soft breeze rustling the leaves above.
Something was wrong. Marlie could feel it in the back of her mind like a sliver that is felt in the finger before it's actually seen. Then the wind changed direction and her nose caught the scent of a dead thing. Rotting flesh and death.
She was on her feet in an instant, eyes wide and knife already unsheathed and in her hand.
"Marlie?" questioned Dale slowly.
"Something smells dead."
"We're eating fish," assured Shane.
She shook her head at him. "It smells like—"
"Seriously? No toilet paper?" Amy's voice sounded from the RV, quickly followed by her screams.
"Amy!" cried Andrea, horrified that a walker had clamped down on her sister's arm and was tearing the flesh from her bones before moving on to the young woman's neck.
Marlie gasped, but gathered enough sense to unleash her blade at the ugly creature. It hit the walker in the back of the head and it toppled backwards, dead for a final time.
Her brain switched into overdrive at that moment and Marlie took in all of her surroundings. The world slowed down around her and she could see the gruesome scene taking place all over camp.
The men were grabbing guns. The women were protecting the children. Everyone was screaming and panicking and avoiding the undead at all costs. Andrea was trying to stop her sister's bleeding. Jim, who had been released earlier, used a club against one of the creature's heads.
Walkers were moaning and eating and charging any living thing their lifeless eyes saw. Including Marlie.
She hurried towards the RV and yanked free her blade from the dead walker's skull, just in time to throw it again before another walker could attack her. She snatched the knife before the undead crumbled to her feet. It was thrown for a third time a moment later, saving Morales from a bite to the neck.
Her heart was racing and blood was pounding so loudly in her ears. There was over a dozen uglies in the camp and there were too few guns. She could see shadows in the tents of people trying to shuffle out, but weren't quick enough. The dead were everywhere.
A moaning from behind caught Marlie off-guard and sent her spinning around just in time for a walker to grab hold of her arm. She yelped and reached for her sheath, only to find it empty. She suddenly remembered that her blade was stuck in another walker's brain several yards away.
Marlie snatched the decaying monster's other wrist in her free hand, keeping it from scratching her face, but the walker was strong and determined. A bad combination. She struggled against its grip on her arm and shouted out for help, but everyone with a weapon was currently preoccupied. Remembering some combat tips that her father had taught her years ago, Marlie hooked the back of her left foot around the walker's right ankle and jerked it, tripping the undead thing and toppling over with it. She had hoped that the fall would have loosened its grip on her right arm, but it didn't. Instead, it only seemed to enrage it further.
Shit shit shit shit, she repeated in her head, using every ounce of strength in her body to keep the walker's teeth and fingernails from piercing her skin. It was a battle that she was ashamed to admit she was losing.
Cliffhanger...dundundun! But fear not; I'll be updating soon to sate your hunger for more. Comments are always welcome and again, thanks to those who have already commented!