Fall, 2010

Dear God, Merle still hasn't come back. I don't know what to do. Corey and I are running out of supplies, we can't stay here forever. But I know that Merle is going to come back here eventually. He got chased off by a herd; it'll be hard for him to get back. But he will. I know he will. So I have a decision to make now: stay or go. I'm afraid that I'll make the wrong choice. I need a sign. Please.

That's what I'm praying for. Above the safety and the luck and everything else that I'm always praying for, I need help making this choice. I need a sign. Please.

Amen.

The light creeps through the leaves in the trees, making patterns over the forest floor. Water laps at my ankles, and some small part of my brain knows that that's strange. But why is it strange that there's water in the middle of the woods? I don't know.

"Lucy!" a small voice calls. I turn to the source of the noise and see Will's head duck behind a tree. I smile and chase after him, my feet making splashes in the water as I run. But when I make it to the tree, Will isn't there.

I call his name, turning in circles, trying to figure out where he went. Something grabs me and I yelp, but then the person puts a hand over my mouth. "Goody goody Lucy Goode," Sami's voice chuckles in my ear.

I bat her hand away and turn to look at her, but then she's gone and somewhere else is a long, high-pitched scream. A Sami scream.

I yell her name and try to run for the source of the noise, but this forest is confusing. The water covers the ground and the light in the leaves is making weird patterns and the trees seem to be in a grid…

"Lucy!" someone else calls. I turn and finally get a clear view of the person calling my name—Corey. I call out and approach him, but just before I reach him there's a bang and a hole appears in his head.

"No!" I scream as he falls. I stoop to my knees and try to grab him, but he just disappears into the water. Where is he? Who shot him?

I turn wildly and see him at the other side of the forest. Merle, holding a gun out in front of him with his one hand. "You're always gonna be alone," he tells me, his voice echoing through the trees.

I open my mouth to scream, but my voice catches in my throat, and then the water's rising and I can't move and it's over my knees and I can't call for help and it's at my waist and there's nobody to help me and it's at my neck and I'm all alone and it's over my head and I can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe—

I don't panic when I wake up this time. Have I just gotten used to nightmares? I don't know.

Even though I didn't scream, I'm still shaking and sweaty. My heart is still beating fast and I'm still breathing harshly.

There's movement on the other side of the dark room and Corey says "Another nightmare?"

I don't answer.

"It must've been pretty stupid to get caught in our crappy trap," Corey says as we stare at the rabbit struggling futilely against the wire holding its leg.

"Don't insult the thing that's giving up its life for us," I mutter, pulling my largest knife from its holster and stooping down.

"Woah," Corey exclaims, grabbing my shoulder and keeping me standing. "You don't have to kill it."

"Are we going through this again?" I sigh in exasperation, looking up at the boy. "You don't need to protect me from stuff."

"Well, yeah, but…" he trails off and looks at the rabbit "Have you ever killed something living?"

I bite my lip, because the answer is no. I shot that squirrel when I was still with Merle, but it didn't die. Still, I had the intent to kill it, so maybe that counts…

"I need to learn," I finally said. "And we need to put the thing out of its misery—it's terrified."

Corey looks at the rabbit again, sighs heavily, and releases my shoulder.

"Thank you," I snip, stooping down. I reach out for the rabbit, grab it by its ears, and while it squirms and tries to bite me or scratch me or get away, I slit its little neck.

"Are you sure that you're okay?" Corey asks as he skins the rabbit. I don't look up at him, because I'm trying to learn.

"I'm fine," I reply "If I want to live I can't be afraid to kill a rabbit."

"You weren't afraid," he says "But you're still a little girl."

I look up and cross my arms "I'm not little!" I say angrily.

"Uh huh."

"Shut up," I mutter, looking back at the rabbit. I watch him until the job's done and he sets it to cook over our little fire. It smells good, and my stomach rumbles loudly.

"Do you think we should leave?" I whisper.

Corey shrugs. "We're running out of food," he replies.

"That's not an answer," I say "Just a statement. We need to make a decision. And I'm worried that if we leave, Merle and your dad will come back and we'll be gone and…"

"They could be dead, Lucy."

I glare at the boy and say sternly "You don't know that."

"I didn't say that they are dead," Corey mutters "I said that they could be. I know that. And we can't wait around for people who might not come back."

"Shut up."

He sighs exasperatedly and throws his arms up in the air. "Why did you ask me if you were just going to argue?"

"I'm not arguing!"

"Really?"

I open and close my mouth a few times. "Shut up!" I finally exclaim, standing up and storming across the yard back to the house.

As soon as I'm inside I feel a bit guilty. I'm not sure for what reasons exactly. I could be guilty for yelling at Corey, or I could be guilty for entertaining the idea of leaving at all.

I'm guilty for both reasons. Corey's telling the truth. Merle might not come back. He could be dead or lost or any number of things, and I can't wait around for someone who might not come back.

It's been nearly two weeks. And they're not back.

We need to leave.

I don't want to.

I have to.

I sit on the stairs for a few minutes, thinking about maybe crying and doing a bit of praying in my head, until I decide to stand up and head back outside. The rabbit's done, and when I sit down on the ground, Corey silently hands me a plate.

We eat quietly, and I savor every bite. I forgot that I like the taste of rabbit. But all too soon the rabbit's gone and I'm left with an empty plate. My stomach is fuller than it's been for the last couple of days, but there's still something missing…

I bite my lip and watch Corey finish the last few bites of his half of the rabbit. When he finishes it's almost too dark to make out his face well, but he looks up and our eyes meet anyway.

"We'll leave when we run out of food," I say.

Fall, 2010

Dear God, Corey and I are leaving this house now. And I'm afraid. I have Corey, but he's different than having Merle. Corey's like Sami; a friend and a sibling and someone who has an equal standing as me. Merle's an adult. I want him back. I want him to look after me, not a teenage boy.

And now I might never see him again. So I'm afraid. There's something comforting about the fact that he could be alive, but my hopes for that are falling pretty quickly. And if Merle's dead… well… he's in a better place. I mean… I hope that he went to the better place.

So, if Merle's alive I'm praying that he stays that way, and if he's dead I'm praying for his soul.

As for me and Corey, I pray that you keep us safe. I pray that we find food wherever we go, and don't find a lot of Dead-Ones.

Amen.

A rabbit.

2 Dead-Ones.

"How old are you?" I ask as we walk.

"Fifteen," Corey replies "Or maybe sixteen by now."

"It's weird not knowing what day it is," I say.

He shrugs noncommittally. "How old are you?"

"Twelve," I reply "But my birthday's in the winter, so I know it."

"Thought you were older," he says.

This time I'm the one that shrugs. "I feel older."

For a few moments Corey stays silent, and then he says "You're still little."

"I am not!" I exclaim, crossing my arms and turning to him. He laughs and I realize that I actually stomped my foot. "Shut up!"

He keeps laughing and starts walking again. I fume for a few moments before catching up with him. "You're being mean," I tell him.

"Am not," he chuckles. He points up ahead and adds "House up there."

"Good."

We don't talk for the rest of the walk to the house, and I'm discouraged before we even get to the porch. There's a Dead-One laying in the middle of the yard, which tells me that someone's been here and cleared it out. But someone…

No. That's a silly amount of hope to have.

"We'll still check," Corey says. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. Of course we're still going to check.

Unfortunately, the inside of the house is just as disappointing as the outside. We find two more dead bodies in the rooms upstairs, and pretty much everything is cleared out. Food-wise, at least. We do manage to find half a pack of stale cookies in one of the bedrooms, but that's hardly a meal. We also find a lighter, some rope, two sweatshirts—which we very much needed, and a few other assorted supplies. My favorite is a shiny compass that almost looks like it made of gold, even though I know better. All the directions are drawn in calligraphy, it hangs on a silvery chain, and it's generally just… pretty. Corey lets me have it.

We camp in the living room for the night, chewing on the cookies. I write a diary entry, we talk for a bit, and fall asleep feeling pretty empty.

Fall, 2010

Dear God, I'm hungry. I know it could definitely be worse—I'm not starving yet. But some food would be nice. So next to safety and everything else, I'm praying for food tomorrow. At least it hasn't gotten very cold yet, but I'm sure you're planning on changing that soon enough. So when the cold does hit, which I know will be soon, I pray you let us stay warm.

But for now, food.

Amen.

3 Dead-Ones.

I'm in the house that Corey and I have been hiding in for the last few weeks, but outside the window is my yard. I don't know why that's weird. It looks like it's about to storm. The flowers in the garden are blowing in the wind. I feel cold.

I turn away from the window and find that the room is empty. There's no furniture, just the floor and the walls and the windows. Sami and Corey and sitting in the middle of the room, playing with cards. I think it's poker.

"I win," Sami declares. She holds out her hands and Corey rolls his eyes as he hands her something. She smirks and pops it in her mouth, and I realize it's bubblegum.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Winning," Sami replies, throwing a ball of bubblegum at me as she chews the one in her mouth. The piece of candy hits me but doesn't hurt, and Sami blows a bubble. She sucks the bubble back in and then coughs.

And coughs again.

I step forward to make sure she's okay, but she's already on the floor coughing. Corey doesn't do anything to help—just keeps cleaning up the cards while Sami chokes on the bubblegum. I find that I don't care that much, either. Is that strange?

Sami tries to cough again, but she's unsuccessful, and a moment later she's still.

Corey snatches the rest of the candy from her unmoving hand and throws it in his mouth with a smirk. "That's mean," I say. Then Sami stirs.

Except now it's not Sami. Now it's a Dead-One. And it's coming at me, reaching, grabbing, snarling—

I wake up feeling… irritated.

At least it's almost dawn this time. I don't think I've slept through the night in the past few days.

"You alright?" Corey calls sleepily.

"You didn't wake me up for my shift," I reply.

"You were actually sleeping, didn't want to bother you," he says.

I sit up in my makeshift bed and stare at him, sitting in a chair next to the window. "That's stupid. Now you're going to be exhausted all day."

He shrugs and stands up "Maybe I'll take a nap later," he says "Did you have any nightmares."

"One," I say "But I think it was about bubblegum, which is weird."

Corey shrugs. "Bubblegum monsters are better than watching people die," he tries to joke.

I frown. "I think people died, too."

Corey takes a nap while I search through the house one last time and pack up all of our belongings. Over the past few months I've perfected the art of packing things tightly, but we still have to leave a few non-essentials behind if we want all the blankets and sweaters. It'll be harder to pack when it gets colder, but Corey thinks that the Dead-Ones'll freeze. I hope he's right.

When I wake him up he seems grumpy, but we head out anyway. After a while he seems back to his normal self, though he has some big bags under his eyes. I tell him to let me take the larger watch tonight and he just shrugs.

We come to another house that's just as looted as the last one, but we still have light in the day so we press on, sucking on mints we just procured as we walk. I'm happy about the mints, because I haven't brushed my teeth in well over a week.

We're approaching a curve in the road when I hear the first sound.

I stop walking and Corey does as well. He opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand and he doesn't speak.

I hear it again.

A noise.

Which way is it coming from?

Left.

"Come here," I hiss, grabbing Corey's arm and pulling him to the right, into the trees, past the point where we can still be seen.

"What is it?"

"Dead-Ones, shut up!" I whisper.

I crouch down in the trees and focus my eyes on the road. I can just barely see the asphalt through the breaks in the dying leaves, but after a few moments I see them coming. Actually following the road.

Corey's crouched next to me, and after watching the Dead-Ones amble for a few moments he says under his breath "Holy shit."

"Don't curse," I whisper.

"Seriously?"

"Shut up."

The herd keeps going for a few minutes, and then it seems like they've been walking past us for an hour.

"How many do you think there are?" Corey asks quietly.

"Too many."

"We should go," he says "Through the woods."

"What if they see us?"

"They won't," he promises "And they're making too much noise to notice anything that isn't right in their faces."

I take another glance through the trees, and think At least the ones that still have faces. I turn back to Corey and nod.

We both quietly stand up and make our way through the woods, slowly, and then as we get farther away more quickly. After a while we can't even hear them at all. "I hate those things," Corey says.

"Really? I love them," I mutter sarcastically.

"Shut up."

"I'm supposed to tell you to shut up."

"And now I'm telling you."

"Shut up."

He laughs. "You're like the little sister I never wanted."

"Shut up."

We walk through the day, and when it gets dark, we're still in the woods and my stomach is grumbling. All we found today were some crackers. Eventually, though, we have to concede and stop for the night. We choose a clearing with some soft grass and a creek nearby.

"I'll take first watch," Corey says as we start a rather pathetic fire to boil our water.

"You're exhausted," I reply. "I'll take first watch and wake you up when I get tired."

"Lucy—"

"Go to sleep, Corey."

Fall, 2010

Dear God, we're lost. In the woods. The days are kind of bleeding together, and I'm getting really hungry. I ate a bug earlier today, and I'm not happy about it.

We're following the compass, but we're either reading it wrong or it's broken. Or maybe this forest just goes on forever and ever. I really hope that's not the case. It doesn't really help when we get re-routed by little groups of Dead-Ones.

Anyway, please help us. My nightmares are getting worse and I'm hungry and I'm scared and I just don't know what to do.

Help.

I'm praying as hard as I can.

Amen.

12 Dead-Ones.

There's a clearing up ahead.

And in my head, I'm just saying Oh, thank you God.

But when we get closer it's just a clearing.

It's a really big clearing, maybe a mile wide, but it's just a clearing. No houses. No opportunities for food.

"What do we do?" I ask quietly.

"It looks like a road up there," Corey replies. I gaze across the clearing. I can't tell, but it looks like… maybe there's a road. But it also feels like a really long walk with how tired I am.

"Okay…" I mumble.

And we start walking,

That's what it's been like the past couple of days. My stomach actually hurts. With all the danger that I've been in over the past few months, I don't think I've ever considered starvation, of all things. Starvation was never a problem.

Now it is.

God, please, let it be a road.

My stomach growls menacingly as we walk, and when we're about halfway across the field I see that it's a road.

A road.

A road.

Roads mean houses and houses mean food—

Food, please.

In a fit of utter madness I start running. I don't have the spare energy to do something like that, but I go off anyway, spurred by the idea of food. I'll take rotten Brussels sprouts in a can if it means food.

Food.

"Lucy!" I hear Corey call from behind me. I almost don't care… almost. But I remind myself not to be stupid, to wait for Corey, and I stop running.

I turn around to wait for him, and almost feel angry at his slow pace, even as I acknowledge to myself that running was probably a stupid idea in the first place. I feel tired and dizzy… dizzy is not good.

My stomach growls again.

And then I hear a sound.

"No…" I whisper miserably as Corey's eyes widen. I turn around to get one quick look at the herd that's probably going to be the death of me…

Not a herd.

A truck.

A truck.

A car that's moving.

That means people.

A truck.

And it's coming for us.

Oh please, please, thank you, thank you, thank you, God—

"Run, Lucy!" Corey yells.

And then I remember that people can be bad.

But we're going to starve if we run back the way we came.

So I ignore Corey.

I don't run.

I just stand there.

The truck approaches.

Stops.

Doors open.

I'm still feeling dizzy.

Three white man, a black man, a Latino man. Getting out of the truck. Guns are half-raised. Big guns.

I put up my hands weakly. I'm nice.

Still dizzy.

I realize they're pointing their guns at Corey, who's probably acting much more aggressive than me.

I'm tired.

I need food.

I'm going to die if I go back to the woods.

I keep my hands up.

I don't look at Corey.

The men say something to Corey. Then put down their guns.

The Latino man comes toward me.

Still dizzy.

My knees give out.

I'm walking, walking, walking. Around me people are starving and dying and I don't know what to do to help them. They keep calling out, and I want to tell them that I can't help, but my voice is caught in my throat.

Walking, walking, walking. I'm hopeless. Even the grass is dying. The road is cracking. Ahead of me there's an ominous building. I know there's something bad in it, but it's also my destination. If it's so bad, why am I going there? I don't know. It's like my feet aren't controlled by me. I just keep walking.

People keep crying.

I can't help them.

I keep walking to the building.

There's something bad in there…

One of the crying people reminds me that I'm dreaming.

Someone's talking. That's the first thing I notice as I come to.

Then I notice that I'm in a bed. Then that there's something on my arm. Did I break my arm? Am I in the hospital?

No. I'm not in the hospital.

The world ended. There are no more hospitals left.

I open my eyes and groan at the sunlight streaming through the blinds. I'm not in the hospital, but I'm somewhere nice. I haven't seen a room this made-up in months.

But the thing on my arm is an IV, I notice that straight off. So I'm somewhere that's trying to be a hospital. Who has IV's?

I sit up with a loud groan and realize that my head hurts. My stomach is still growling. But I don't feel as light-headed. I'm not dizzy. The fluids in the IV must be giving me vitamins or something.

"Hello!" I call.

I close my eyes and run a hand through my hair, waiting for the voices outside my door to respond. It takes only a few seconds, and then a doctor-y-looking black woman enters, followed by a tall white man. He looks familiar…

"Morning, dear," says the woman, approaching my bed "I'm sure you want something to eat, but I need you to do a few things for me first."

"Okay…" I mumble.

The woman holds up her fingers and asks me to follow them with my eyes. We go through a few things like that. She checks my pupils with a small flashlight, asks me to tell her how many fingers she's holding out, and then says that I'm fine. "You hit your head when you passed out," she adds.

"What did I pass out from?" I ask wearily.

"Malnourishment," the woman replies. "I'll bring you some food, just wait here." She eyes the man as she walks out of the room and closes the door. The man smiles at me and sits down.

"Hi," I say.

"Hello," he says pleasantly. "You're Lucy, correct?"

"Yeah," I nod. "Did Corey tell you?"

The man smiles "Yes, he did. And he's fine, by the way—before you ask."

"Good," I say, sighing in relief. "What's your name?"

"You can call me the Governor."

Author's Note:

So if you read through this story despite my warnings, congrats. If you liked it, them I'm a better writer than I thought. I don't know what it is about this story that makes me dislike it so much. Maybe I just can't get into Lucy's character. I dunno. But my original plan was for there to be several chapters from Lucy's perspective, and now that is not going to happen. Maybe at some point I'll revisit her, but that won't be for a good long while. Anyway, all of Lucy's story will be told in 'The End' which is the next story from Dawson/Sami's perspective, though of course not in much detail as in a story.

Gosh, even this AN feels awkward. I hate this story. Oh well. I'll leave it up indefinitely. Thank you for reading.

Much love from Bowties.

End Author's Note.