Chapter twenty-one: Sammy

Sammy walked around the room slowly, taking it all in. The heel of her boots clicked quietly, almost silent against the hardwood floor. There were paintings - real paintings! The girl almost swooned at the large pictures that adorned the walls. The room held a soft elegance, the furniture obviously not something to scoff at. She suddenly felt the burn of jealousy toward the woman that sat at the couch across the way. These people had it lucky in the old world, and they started this new world with the same luck. She wanted to pry it from them like candy from an infant, and watch the hope leave there eyes as she crushed it beneath her foot. Instead, she tried to crush her anger back down. After all, it wasn't their fault that they were dealt a good hand. Not to mention, their luck had been the only reason she was still alive and kicking.

"Why don't you have a seat, Sammy?" The woman's voice was posh and refined and Sammy instantly hated her. Politicians were never good news.

"I'm not terribly comfortable sitting on furniture that costs more than both my kidneys on the black market," was Sammy's reply as she continued to wonder the room. She stopped at one of the large paintings, running a hand across the canvas with a sad look in her eyes.

"Are you an art enthusiast?" The woman's voice kept it's authoritive tone, even when she tried to make small talk.

"No." She didn't say anything else as she turned away and continued her trek.

"What about an artist?" Sammy paused at another painting.

"Yeah." She wanted to rip the frame off of the wall. Tear it. Burn it. Destroy it. Everything reminded her of the world before, and it just pissed her off more.

"We have art supplies," the woman stated, hoping to get a reaction from the girl. Sammy's hand twitched, the appendage longing for the feel of a brush.

"They don't have any use now." She walked to the armchair finally, running her finger along the material.

"I don't believe that." Deanna said firmly.

"Well, Neo Nazis didn't believe in the Holocaust, but that doesn't make it any less true."

"Well, what do you believe?"

"The Holocaust? It definitely happened. I don't think my teachers made up Anne Frank's diary, it's way too depressing and pathetic to be a work of fiction."

"I meant about art," Deanna tried again, furrowing her eyebrows together. The girl's deflections were affective, but the politician wasn't ready to give in so easily.

"It's useless," Sammy said, feeling like she had already covered the subject. She stopped what she was doing and looked at Deanna, careful to mask her emotions under a stoic demeanor. "It was a form of story telling and self expression."

"I don't think that's useless. It portrays a message to the viewer from the artist. Art can record important moments in history. Whether the moments are important to only the artist, or the entire world, it's important."

"But it can't help you survive," Sammy argued, her eyebrows pulling together. She was getting frustrated with the woman now. Did she not realize that there wasn't a place for art in this new world? "In fact, it's more likely to get you killed. So it's less than useless, it's dangerous."

Sammy finally sat in the arm chair, shifting uncomfortably before crossing her legs at the knee and staring into the camera with dark eyes. "Why are you filming this anyway?"

"We're all about transparency here," Deanna stated in her pseudo governmental tone, and Sammy barked out a bitter laugh.

"So you'll get to see what I am behind a one way mirror." She made a crazy face into the mirror, followed by a string of funny faces. "There's your show, that's all there is to me." She stood up in the chair again, unable to sit still as anger bubbled up inside her. "Turmoil buried under crazy and smothered in humor."

"I think there's more to you than that... But this isn't just for me," the woman assured. "You can ask me whatever you want."

"How do I know you'll give me an honest answer?"

Deanna pressed her lips together in thought. She stood from her spot on the couch and walked to the window to look out at her community. "Do you see all those people out there?"

Sammy stopped her irratic pacing and stared out the window. She watched the happy faces of the settlers, a frown pulling at her lips. "Yeah..."

"These are my people. It's my responsibility to keep them safe. I need people like you, people who know how to survive, to help me and help them survive." She looked to Sammy and smiled. "You can understand the need to protect your family, right?"

Sammy felt a tug at her heart. "Yeah, I get it." She stared out silently at the people now, her eyes dark. "You won't be able to save them, though." She looked the woman dead in the eye, her gaze not faltering. "Not all of them. You can't. And people like me are a double edged sword. You need us, to help you survive. Just because we're here doesn't mean we'll be of any use. Or safe, even. I..." She faltered now, turning away. "I've seen a lot of shit in this world, and the one before. People will step on each other to get ahead, that hasn't changed. I've seen people strung up as zombie bait. People left to die while others escaped. People who kill others just because they think it's fun; people who kill other people to eat them."

"But I don't think you've done any of that." Deanna's voice was quiet and confident.

Sammy didn't answer right away. Had she done any of that before? So many people died traveling with her. Was she really sure that she hadn't been the cause? "I really don't remember..."

"I think you would remember killing someone in such a terrible manner." The woman was relentless.

"I don't remember anyone I killed." She closed her eyes. "I remembered people that almost got me killed. I remember people that got my friends killed. And I remember people that I wish I had killed. But I don't remember anyone that I've actually killed. Human or biter... Fuck, they're all the same. All they want is to survive, and every fucking one of them..." She opened her eyes, a fire burning behind them as she stared out at the people. She just saw potential killers and zombie bait. Nothing in between. Was there anything in between anymore?

"Even the people you're trying so hard to keep alive. How many of them wouldn't throw you under the bus to save their own ass? Him." She pointed, her finger thudding against the glass, at a man that smiled kindly to a lady as she walked passed. She could see it in the man's eyes; and she would be sure to stear clear of him. "He would be one of the rapists that isn't even kind enough to put a bullet through the poor woman's head when he finished. That child right there." It was an older boy, sightly bigger then the kids he was playing with. "He would become a tyrant, if he survived long enough. Steal from those who could barely defend themselves. Kill and raid." The boy pushed another, smaller child to the ground, but made no move to help the child as it began to cry. Sammy pried her eyes away from the scene, just working herself up now. "The only difference between a man and a killer is exposure. The more you're around death, the more desensitized you become to it. And the entire world is a war zone now. Anyone that can survive outside these wall isn't someone who should be inside."

"Are your saying I shouldn't let you stay?" Deanna asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." She didn't hesitate, didn't look at the woman. "I've been out there too long." She laughed bitterly and ran a hand through her hair. She couldn't help the crack in her voice. "It's easier for me now to just survive. All of this other shit, I can't..." She paused, staring at the painting that she wanted to rip to shreds. It just reminded her of everything before and she couldn't keep the tears out of her eyes. "I don't think I could function right behind these walls. It's been so long..." She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Peter is someone you'll want, if you do take people in. He's the one that can jump in and out of this life and thrive on both ends. I don't know how he does it, but he does.

"Daniel, he's just a kid. He shouldn't have survived for as long as he has. But... He belongs in a place like this. Even Abigail, I'm sure, is more suited to this lifestyle. So let them all in, they'll be of use to you. I won't. I'll just drag the entire community down." She stared out the window with wide eyes now. She read every one of the people that walked by. They were all like open books to her, each one hiding their demons behind their eyes. The woman with long blonde hair, she was weak in so many ways, but Sammy could see the strong will burning in her. A man with dark curly hair walked by in a cop uniform, and his demeanor sent chills up her spine. She recognized the man from when she woke up in the infirmery, but his aura seemed more intimidating now than it had been before. He would either save them or kill them all.

"That's Rick Grimes," Deanna informed her, following the girl's gaze. When silence followed, her eyes traveled back to to the girl beside her. She waited for something, but Sammy just continued staring at the man. "You're free to leave, Sammy. I won't force you to stay, nor will I deny your friends shelter here if you want to leave."

"I don't want to leave," Sammy whispered. She blinked slowly, not able to look at the woman. Her eyes picked them out of the rest of the settlers. The survivors. The ones that she wanted to make ties with. The ones that were like her. "I wanna stay. I really do. I'm just not sure if I can." No, this place would eventually fall. There were no paradises in this world anymore. No angels walked the earth now. Only demons. And this place would fall to their wrath. It was only a matter of time.