So, here's another chapter, one I'm a bit excited for, hehe. Hope you enjoy. I'll be honest pressure is high, my sister was threatening me for more lol. So I'm trying to hurry this along. But I admit, brainstorming this story has me real excited, a lot of changes were made. I'm trying hard not to make my story sound like others, I know I can't stop every obsticale from being repeated, but trying my damnedest lol.
Enjoy :)
-oOo-
9 Crimes- Damian Rice
Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you
It's the wrong time
For somebody new
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse
Is that alright?
Give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If u don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it
Is that alright?
Give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright
With you?
Leave me out with the waste
This is not what I do
It's the wrong kind of place
To be cheating on you
It's the wrong time
She's pulling me through
It's a small crime
And I've got no excuse
Is that alright?
I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If you dont shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it
Is that alright?
I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright
Is that alright with you?
Is that alright?
I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright?
If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it
Is that alright?
If I give my gun away when it's loaded
Is that alright
Is that alright with you?
Is that alright?
Is that alright?
Is that alright with you?
Is that alright?
Is that alright?
Is that alright with you?
No...
-oOo-
Both girls flinched when Kirby let out a rather loud, body-racking sneeze. She looked over at Bailey meekly and mouthed an apology. It was dusty in the dark store, layers of it covered every surface. Bailey held the axe tightly, ready for any surprises, and felt her rifle scrape against her back.
The small town square was almost void of anything moving, almost. Bailey had quickly beheaded three of the undead and ushered Kirby to the closest building that wasn't already looted or had too many windows. It just happened to be a candy shoppe she concluded from the shevles filled with glass jars with dulled and melted colors and racks of every bar and bag of candy and chocolate... right next to a saloon bar.
After making sure the place was clear they moved into the storage room at the back, blocking the door with a hefty four foot cast-iron safe and checked the back door, seeing a clear veiw of dumpsters, a wooden fence and no sign of the dead, walking or not.
The storage room had a desk and sofa in a corner, Kirby was laying down, eyes heavy but not sleeping. It wasn't a shock to Bailey in the least. But the Dodge was running on fumes and it had grown too dark to stay out in the open to syphon gas. Bailey sat atop the safe, rifle in her lap and smoking a cigerette.
After a while, nature called and she went to the employee bathroom. When she touched the handle to flush, Bailey sighed. She just shut the lid and went to grab the flashlight when her eyes darted to the mirror.
She leaned closer, running a hand to clear the dust for a clearer reflection. A stranger stared back. Hazel eyes darker, one tinted pink that always seemed a bit bleary and itchy from taking a tumble down the stairs back at the campus when she was bringing Kirby to her truck. Cheeks hollower and the round bulbs of their bones jutting out. Her once heart-shaped face had become warped, like someone had pulled a string at the back of her head and pulled the skin tight. Not necessarily ugly, just intimidating, the much shorter version of an amazon. Lips cracked and crusted with blood, with the now white and shiney line that had put a cleft in her mouth in the top left corner. Nose peeling still from sunburn, and a little red. Her once praised platnium hair a more ashen blonde, maybe with some very premature grey mixed into it. Her arms as taut as the rest of her and the duvets of her rib cage showed through her tank top. Bailey had felt weird at first about the second skin jeans and form-fitting sleevless tops. But they were easier than skirts and dresses, they gave more protection against poisonous scratches. Her tan hiking boots tight on her ankles. The light brown leather jacket she wore now that it was turning from swealtering to chilly snug and protected her back from being chaffed by the heavy sniper rifle. She was filthy and greasy, acne showing in small patches not just on her face but seemed to spread everywhere else.
With an aggitated thunk with her thumb and middle finger to the mirror she returned to her perch and saw that Kirby had finally turned over and was fast asleep.
One thing that Bailey found intresting was how much the human body could take, always adapting, changing to compensate and striving to survive without the person's knowledge. Like how much sleep you could deprive yourself of and still function with great clearity. She learned she only had to have three or four hours in two days before the edges of her mind went fuzzy. It took only half a bottle of water a day to keep from getting dizzy and two meals before the stomach cramps kicked in.
She stretched her limits to compensate for Kirby, giving her twice as much as her own rashining.
She kept watch of Kirby's steady breathing when the girl bolted upright and Bailey skidded to the back door, pulling the drawback on her rifle and gesturing to Kirby to stay silent. Gunshots. More and more of them. And shouting. God, when did people get stupid, if they kept this up, the square would be swarmed for sure.
"I want you to stay right at this door, I've got to get rid of the noise." Bailey knew from her stiffness what she ment by getting rid of the noise. Kill the noise.
Bailey slowly opened the heavy back door, looking in each direction, gun barrel aimed first, and slid along the wall. The gunfire was coming from the front, which gave her an element of surprise, she smirked at having the upper hand.
She made it to the corner when a sudden banging jolted her to look back in time to see a lanky figure lunge behind one of the dumpsters, coming from the saloon next door. Then she was ducking down, a bullet digging into the brick mere cetimeters from her head and quickly had the shooter in her sights. He went down with a strangled cry, a shot to his neck and rolling into the grass.
Bailey swiveled around, spotting another that was firing at the one hiding and took him down with ease. The bar's back door swung open again and an elderly man pulled a handgun from his belt in his slacks and shot down another man. Growls and gurggling echoed in the darkness, the undead surrounding the man who had just been shot and began tearing into him, going to each of his limbs and one of the things got a hold of his face.
The old man eyed Bailey and she raised her rifle, looking through the scope and pulling the trigger. He spun around in time to see another man fall back, bullet between his eyes. His nod gave her a small squeeze in her chest, she'd worry about him later.
She moved to the side of the strip and made quick work of putting down the undead as well as two snipers up on the roof. She heard names being shouted from the back and growled. Shit, Kirby was too close.
Shuffling back to get her best friend, Bailey almost ate concrete and fell into the door. She yanked it open and grabbed Kirby's arm roughly. She was crying and sobbing out questions. "Shut up! Stay close and keep your head down. There's things crawling everywhere." Kirby nodded, sniffling and Bailey dragged her back to the side of the building.
The Ram was across the street and a block down the right. Then a white heavy-duty truck skidded to a hault beside it and the driver yelled up to a remaining sniper to jump. He did, rolling off a shorter rooftop and landing right on a spired fence. The truck sped off with the man yelling out an apology.
The old man came into view along with a scrawny asian guy no older then the two girls and a tall man carrying a damn .45 Colt Python. Damn it!
Bailey and Kirby dashed for the red and white Ram, ignoring the trio's calls. She had to get her friend out of their before it went from bad to worse to being royally fucked.
But suddenly Kirby tugged herself from her death grip and held up her hands towards the three men. Bailey let out a long string of profanities and started firing at the advancing drones of walking corpses.
She vaguely remembered hearing them arguing and hollering, Kirby's keening screams mixed in. Then out the corner of her eye she saw Kirby helping them carry the sniper who just happened to be a fucking teenage boy, into their truck. Bailey gritted her teeth, looking back at the mutliplying rotting shells stammering closer and closing in on them, taking shot after shot until her gun made a lame click instead of a loud crack. She was out of ammo.
"Come on!" Kirby yelped from the passenger seat. Bailey had the keys... She sprinted to the driver's side and turned the ignition, peeling out before her door even shut and took off.
-oOo-
Apparently the huge revolver weilding stick-figure was a former sheriff's deputy named Rick Grimes. The old man was a vetinerian, Hershal and the asian guy was Glenn. They gave her directions, having to raise their voice over the sniper kid's screaming and sobbing. Finally Bailey ordered Kirby to gag and blindfold him for silence. The last thing they needed was to have those things trailing behind them, or those people.
Rick explained how the okay corall had started and she told them they had shacked up in the shop nextdoor and got caught in the fray. I winced when he told Kirby of the safety and other survivors where they were staying, which was a farmland that belonged to Hershal. More people ment more reasons to get killed. Those things had impecable smell. A bunch of b.o. cowering down in one corner was a good way to draw them right to you.
They decided to circle around, making sure not to be tailed and pulled off on a dirt road for the night. Hershal making quick work to stounch Randall's bleeding leg and it was decided best to get some sleep before going back to the farm. Bailey and Rick taking watch as the last few hours of moon light soon gave way to sunrise.
Kirby was wide-eyed when they started in the right direction, her excitment almost vibrating her out of her seat. She was dishing out question after question. How many are with you? Is there any electricity? Are you sure we'll be safe? All this was giving Bailey a sharp ache in her chest. Each question a needle digging further in. Kirby had to know it probably wasn't smart to assume they'd stay with a bunch of strangers. Who knew how many Genes and Lucas' resided there.
When they found the dirt paved driveway that winded in an odd curve and sharp right turn, Bailey's anxity grew, eyes immediatly drawn to the crowd around a Hundai Hybrid, guns gleaming in the morning sun, being passed around. At least Rick hadn't lied about there being women and his son, who was now running from the large two story white house's porch to her truck.
She stayed in the cab, letting everyone out, but grabbing Kirby on the shoulder before she could hop down from her seat and gave her a pointed look. "Don'y get too comfortable. Remember, we have no idea what these people are like." She averted her eyes, posture slumping down low and was slower to get out of the Ram, standing close.
Bailey let her head fall back, just now feeling her aches and pains. She definately pulled muscles and more likely sprained her ankle. She sat there for a long moment, eyes glancing around, not daring to blink too much. Finally willing herself out of the cab and slamming the door she waved Kirby off and made slow work to stand by Rick, hand twitching, ready to pull her Colt Eagle from out the back of her jeans.
She let her eyes appraise each stranger, not really registering faces but sizing up body language, trying to label every peron. Safe, hostile and undecisive. Then she was suddenly rigid.
Every voice and sound of buzzing insects instantly faded and her vision tunneled out, zoning on the figure that hung back away from the huddle of suvivers.
At first she worried she had surely gone off the deep end, maybe she shouldn't have kept reading those fucking journals. Or that she hadn't survived the shoot out last night. Maybe she drifted off on watch with Rick. This couldn't be real. All those reasons seemed more believable than this actually happening.
Her mind babbling was ground to a hault when Kirby's squeak of a voice piped up.
"Daryl Fucking Dixon."
Everyone had stopped their conversations and gestures, all turning to the man Bailey wanted with a firey burning passion to hate to the very core of the backwoods, trailer trash son of bitch that left her in that hell to die.
Neither spoke, making everyone else stand there awkwardly watching the stare off, wondering if either would blink. But Kirby shattered the deafening silence, stomping her whole five foot six, hundred and two pounds soaking wet up to the redneck statue, rearing her tiny hand back and swinging it forward, making an echoing crack against the skin of his cheek, which barely moved the slightest fraction, clear eyes trained on her's.
Rick was first to responed, going to restrain a violently animated Kirby, who was spouting insults and dirty name calling in his face, and pushing her a ways back.
Bailey snapped from her fixiation and looked at Rick who moved into the middle of the circle. He then spoke. "Alright, I'm going to assume Daryl knows these two. And Bailey and Kirby saved our lives." He gave a strained, drawn out speech about the two girls not being a threat and welcoming them. Bailey had already tuned him out. It didn't matter to her. Now more than ever they wouldn't be staying.
But she could not help but look him over. Not much had changed too drastically. He took well to the empending apocalypse. His hair darker, which was normal when the weather started transitioning into the colder seasons. Longer and now with strands of grey. His goatee growing out to his cheeks and neck. A flannel she vaguely recalled him wearing was rumpled under his denim jacket and she took in a shuttering breath. The leather vest...
She saw the new worry lines in his face making him look forty six instead only thirty six. Skin tanner and red in some places, a sliver of scalp visible between hair at his left temple.
Bailey startled when a hand touched her arm and snapped her head up to see Rick. "You and Kirby can go inside, clean up and get a hot meal inside." It sounded like he had repeated this. Kirby pulled on her friend's hand making the blonde scramble up the steps, trying not to trip when she looked back over her shoulder at the man.
And let the screen door shut at the black man's voice rising, hand outstrected to Randall blindfolded and gagged in the backseat. "Who the hell is that?"
-oOo-
Clean, and for the first time in five months full, Bailey felt oddly vunerable. Like she and Kirby were Hansel and Gretyl and the witch was luring them into the oven with sweets and promises too good to be true. And being a pound lighter from removing half a year's worth of filth, blood and things she'd rather not think of made her feel extremely bare, naked.
Kirby however was elated, even going as far as fluffing her hair and taking time to choose what to wear, which made Bailey scoff, saying, "yeah Kirby, a jean skirt will definately help you outrun the dead." The redhead sighed soundly and replaced the skirt with some long shorts then headed for the community of tents outside, wanting to introduce herself.
This annoyed Bailey to no end. That girl was deliberately ignoring her earlier warning and practically throwing herself on them.
She took to walking the property, rifle strapped behind her and eyes scanning the treeline. Not one of those things in sight. She wandered to the east side and saw a single tent, burnt out fire pit and that stupid black SS chopper. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she noticed what dangled from a low branch of a tree right next to the tent.
"Ya' 'lil friend don't know the meanin' of personal space n' manners." His gruff voice made her twirl on him and take a few stumbling steps back at how close he was, close enough to feel his ever present warmth and sour smelling sweat and musk. Her eyes narrowed and she lifted her chin to stare him down, expression cold and yet calm.
"And neither do you."
Daryl snorted, eyes squinting against the sun and looking her over. Bailey cleared her throat and moved her hands to her front pocket. "Damn kid found me after ya' cleaned up, tried slappin' me again. Need ta' keep yer girl on a shorter leash."
She raised a brow, pulling enough strength to act blaise instead of a blubbering idiot she felt she might become if she stayed near him too long.
"I gotta go ta' this meetin', but can ya' come up here later? Alone?" he asked, the slight anger gone from his tone, now seeming tired and a bit desperate.
"Why?" she asked, dropping her fascade and going on the defensive.
Daryl scratched the back of his head and moved to rub on his neck. "'Cause. Don't ya' reckon we should talk? It's been what? Five months?"
Bailey pursed her lips, watching his eyes dart down and wrinkle his nose at the nasty scar there. She sighed heavily regaining his attention. "Fine, but don't expect me to just jump in your arms and kiss and make up."
He gave a curt nod. "Wasn't gonna."
Then she was walking, getting as much distance as she could and made a straight line to her truck, crawling into the back and lighting her first of many, many cigerettes of the day.
-oOo-
YAAAAAAY! lol so tell me what u think, I didn't make it an epic omg your alive, i want to hug u and screw you then get mad bcuz you left kinda thing, remember Bailey's a very jaded, numbed out, cinical young woman. She is pissed but knows going along with emotions in this new world is stupid. Plus she's not totally sold on this group and shooting one of their biggest assests (I.E. Daryl) in the dick wouldn't be too smart lol.
As muther effin always REVIEW
