Sammy cowered under the bar by the stools as Jimmy lay on the floor and Ash was being held at gun point by none other than Merle Dixon. Everything happened quickly, but Sammy was pretty sure the men on the roof were dead. If Sammy had known Merle was alive, she would have bet money he would show up at the bar for revenge and she would have won the lot. "I ain't gonna shoot ya, baby doll. Come out and do me a favor."
Gripping the bar top, Sammy pulled herself up, eying Merle as he kept the gun trained on Ash, giving her a small glance every few seconds. "What's the favor?" Her voice was small, hesitant. She didn't know if she wanted Merle to shoot Ash, he was rather helpful, but she also knew he was a part of the gang that backstabbed Merle. She never actually found out what happened and from the way Merle was packing, she didn't think she was going to.
Merle had her attention again as he sniffed loudly, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose. He rocked back and forth, seeming twitchy. Sammy figured it was from withdraws since he had been without any substance for a few nights. "Get me my stash." It didn't seem like a favor to her, but she needed an excuse to leave the room anyway.
After giving Ash an apologetic look, she did as Merle asked and slipped away, power walking to Jake's office. She grabbed the strap of the duffel bag and pulled it along with her quietly. Merle hadn't been watching and Ash was on his knees in front of the bar so he couldn't see her. She hurried and locked herself inside once again, immediately going for the drawer with the hidden pills. She left the duffel bag in the room, pausing for a moment as she heard some muffled angry voices in the bar. She couldn't recognize them, but assumed it was Merle yelling at Ash or Ash pleading for Merle not to kill him.
Sammy peered out the door, slipping the bag and then herself through quietly, locking the door behind her. She tip-toed to the end of the hall, peering around the corner. Merle was still behind the bar pointing his gun at Ash, who was still on his knees on the other side of the bar, and a new man was standing off to the side of the bar with a clear view of Sammy sneaking down the hallway. He was clearly watching her and when she finally looked up to his face, she gasped, launching herself forward.
Daryl caught her around the waist as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Fresh tears fell from her eyes in streams as she felt safe and peaceful for the first time since leaving her grandparents' house the day before. Once Daryl let her go, she was snapped back to reality and some of that fear toward the undead walking around came back. She clung to him, keeping her hand on his shoulder as she slipped to his side.
"It's nice, you two girls gettin' on and all, but I sent ya for my stash, baby doll." Merle was still standing behind the counter, his twitching and swaying seeming worse. He waved the gun at her, a sign that he was starting to get impatient.
Eyeing Daryl in a silent plea to watch her back, Sammy stepped away from him and slowly headed to the bar. She dropped the bag on the counter, stepping backwards and stopped when she felt Daryl's hand on the small of her back. "Jesse was right about you, you son a bitch."
Merle looked at him, feigning hurt. "Ah! Don't be that way. Look!" Merle pointed behind Daryl and Sammy, at the motionless Jimmy lying on the floor. Daryl's crossbow was half hidden under his torso, the look of surprise at being shot was probably still on his face, not that Sammy could see it. "I saved that crossbow of yours!"
Daryl wasn't letting Merle off the hook. "Man, you just don't get it, do you?" Before he could give Merle a proper lecture, the side doors burst open as one of the guy's Earl took with him came through. Merle tried popping off a shot at him, but it missed, and the lackey turned back as fast as he could.
"Hey! Merle's here!" was heard before the doors closed behind him. Merle reacted quickly, throwing himself over the bar to give chase as Ash leapt to his feet and ran off through another set of doors.
Sammy turned around as the door behind them was thrown open, two more Savage Sons coming through the door and jumping on Daryl. She tried to shove them back, but they were already swinging a bat at Daryl, knocking him to the floor. "Daryl!" One of the guys turned to her, reaching out and grabbing her by her right upper arm. "Get the fuck off me!" She kept trying to lash out as they tried dragging her out the door.
"Earl don't want to leave your sorry ass behind. Man's got a soft spot for ya, now let's go!" They successfully dragged Sammy out the door with her fighting them as hard as she could. She hadn't been outside for almost a full twenty-four hours and was shocked at how deserted the town looked. She had witnessed people's deaths but the eerie silence coming from the town was somehow scarier.
Shuffling to her right caught her attention as one of the undead saw them. Instant panic and fear filled her stomach, causing her to cry out and yank her arm as hard as she could. "Oh, God! No! Let me go! Oh God!" Her voice was shrill as her panic intensified with every step the undead took toward them. She couldn't recognize who he was, his clothes were dirty with dried blood and torn. His face was partially torn off and his right cheek bone and two rows of teeth were visible as the flesh from his face dangled under his left eye. He was tall and missing his left arm as well as part of his abdomen.
Sammy twisted out of her captors grasp just as the undead man reached them. She ducked and rolled out of his reach and saw him turn toward the closer prey. She turned her back as the shouts of terror filled the street, throwing herself back inside the bar, locking the door as quickly as she could. She went over to each door, locking all of them before rushing to Daryl's side. He was unconscious on the floor, and she had to get him up and moving as soon as possible.
"C'mon, Daryl, get up!" She was still panicked as she shook him. "Daryl, get up! The dead walk, this is no time to be sleeping!" She grabbed his shirt collar and shook with both of her hands expecting him to open his eyes. When he didn't, she resorted to more drastic measures, raising her left hand and bringing it down against his right cheek, a loud slap ringing in her ears.
Daryl's eyes snapped open, his hand rising to his cheek before his furious eyes met hers. He relaxed for a moment before looking around the bar. "Merle gone?" Sammy gave him a nod as he moved her so he could get up. He ripped his crossbow from under Jimmy, giving his body a kick for taking it in the first place. What they both weren't expecting was for him to latch on to Daryl's ankle and try to force it in his mouth. Sammy felt her heart sink into her gut as her eyes widened, a gasp leaving her mouth. Daryl, proving she didn't have to worry about him, just shook Jimmy off like he was a bug before driving a crossbow bolt in his head.
She sat there on floor, a little dumb founded. She knew he must have run into these people on his way into town, but the way it all seemed so easy for him made her look at him in a new light. "How is this so easy for you?" She felt her eyes well up with tears as she stared up at him. "I couldn't do what you just did. I know what happens when they get you, but there's no way I could ki-kill someone." Fat tears finally fell down her cheeks in streams, a small hiccup interrupted her as she blubbered at him.
"It ain't easy, but ya can't think about them as people anymore, Sam." He offered her a hand. "The world ain't the same no more." She put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet.
"Everyone keeps saying 'world', but it's just the town." Sammy wiped her tears, trying to pull herself together again, not wanting her fear and despair for change to consume her.
Daryl looked at her for a moment, deciding on what to tell her. "There's a shelter in Atlanta taking in survivors. We're going there, Merle will meet us." He didn't give her much, but she felt her heart sink once again when she realized whatever was happening in the town, was state-wide.
"My grandparents. I haven't been able to get in contact with them and I've been too chicken to leave." Daryl nodded at her, moving off to look through the bar for things he could use, Sammy assumed.
"Stupid fucks took my knives." He looked over his shoulder at Sammy, noticing her new ensemble. "Nice gear. You're going to need it. Go get the rest of your stuff."
"There's a duffle bag in Jake's office full of guns and stuff. There's some crates of supplies by the wall too, grab things from there if you need."
"We're only taking what we can carry for now. You got supplies at your grandparents."
"What about my grandma's car? We can fill it with stuff and take it over there."
Daryl shook his head at her. "The streets are too crowded with vehicles and the noise will just attract more of them. It's better to go on foot for now. Just until we can get on the road."
Sammy didn't want to run into anymore of the undead. She just wanted to get home, get her grandparents, and get the hell out of town. Though, she listened to Daryl and scampered off into the back office. She collected her things quickly, grabbed the duffle bag of weapons, and grabbed food and drinks from the organized crates in the hall.
Daryl came down the hall, grabbing a few things from the crates for himself, and nodded toward the employee door. Sammy swallowed, hard. She didn't feel confident enough to go out there. Daryl wasn't going to wait for her to get that confidence though, but as if he could sense her discomfort, he took the lead and positioned himself by the employee door.
He pushed the door open a little at a time, sticking the tip of his crossbow out first. He crouched low, stepping out carefully as Sammy held the door for him. She followed as quietly as she could, trying her best not to whimper as she shut the door quietly behind her. She was out in the open now. No longer sheltered by the bar or the Savage Sons from the chaos in the town.
Her grandma's car was still parked in the same spot, not disturbed. She attempted to reason with Daryl again, wanting to avoid anymore run ins with the living dead. "I have the keys right here, Daryl. Please, let's just get in the car and drive over really quick."
Daryl whipped around, shushing her, though it was too late. A few undead had heard her and started making their way towards them. Daryl shot her a glare for blowing their cover. He had hoped to make it to an alley that would be mostly blocked off, but her stubbornness reared up, wanting to take the car.
Dashing forward, Daryl slammed the sharp end of his crossbow bolt into the head of the closest man, dropping him to the ground before Sammy could get a good look at him. He took on two more before Sammy realized she was in danger.
A teenager, not older than 16, with purple and pink dyed hair in braids came toward her. Her lips were torn off her pale face, pretty teeth gnashing together, her chewed off tongue was caught in the hole of her bitten off right cheek. She was wearing a mini skirt and a white blouse, both soaked in blood. Her shirt was ripped on her right shoulder, the flesh missing. Her left thigh also had a good chunk of flesh torn off, strips of skin jiggling with every wobbled step she took.
Sammy turned her eyes for a moment, heaving the contents of her stomach on the street. She cried as she shakily stood up, stumbling back and out of reach of the teen. She knew her face. She looked like one of the girls Sammy went to high school with but hadn't bothered getting to know. This teenager was probably her younger sister.
In the moment Sammy was trying to collect herself, the teenage girl did her best to move a little quicker. She stumbled forward, almost falling yet somehow managing to catch her balance. Her neck snapped with every slight turn, her nose sniffing out the prey her eyes couldn't see. Without either girl paying attention, Daryl had come up from behind the teen, quickly silencing her once and for all. He looked at Sammy, who was bent over with one hand wrapped around her stomach and the other on the wall for support. Her hair was a curtain, hiding her face from him and the now dead teen.
"Get yer hair outta yer face. Don't know when one of 'em might sneak up on ya cause of yer hair." He was quiet but demanding, letting her know it wasn't up for debate. Daryl was going to teach her to watch her back, just in case he couldn't be there to help her out. The look on his face said so.
The bag she brought into work with her the other day slid down her arm and softly landed on the asphalt. Sammy zipped it open and fished through it until she found a black scrunchie. She twisted a decent bun on the top of her head, making sure to get all the strands from her face. "Better?" She pulled the bag's strap over her head in a diagonal hold so it wouldn't fall from her shoulder. They would be traveling by foot, to her dismay, for a few blocks and she didn't want to lose any valuable supplies.
Giving Sammy a nod, Daryl picked up the duffle bag of weapons, carrying it in the same fashion as her. He moved through the mostly empty parking lot, knowing his way around the town better than she ever wanted to. There was a small opening by the far back wall of the parking lot that lead into the alley. Daryl led Sammy to the alley, making sure to set a slow enough pace for her to follow and to look out for the undead.
Other than the constant fear and outward trembling, Sammy felt a very small amount of pride well up. She was quiet and kept up with Daryl enough that he didn't have to look behind him often. Though, her pride was replaced with horror as a small group of the undead, around twelve or so, spotted them as they rounded a chain-link fence. To be fair, Sammy thought they were on the other side of it, not on the same side.
They grouped together quickly, marching forward with their arms raised, ready to grab the live prey. Daryl sprung into action, naturally faster than Sammy. She was barely able to process that the dead were up and walking.
Sammy backed up, the motion starting to become a habit for her. Daryl's angry grumbling for her to help him went unheard as she focused on one living dead in particular. Another habit she was picking up; recognizing many faces that now want to rip hers off.
The dirty, oil-stained mechanics outfit stood out the most as Greg's single filmed over eye spotted her. He was missing his right eye and part of his right cheek. Most of his fingers were gone, but his outfit was still intact. She wondered for a moment what happened for him to end up that way, but the bile making its way into her throat caused her to look away and throw up again. When she looked up again, Greg was closer to her, reaching for her with fingerless hands and moaning loudly. Others followed behind him, but Sammy couldn't take her eyes from Greg.
It had been the other day that he asked her out. He was alive and well and sweet not three days ago. She shoved into his chest, suddenly angry as tears fell from her eyes. "What the hell, Greg?" He only moaned at her, still trying to grab her. She shoved him back, a little harder. He fell back into one of the undead behind him but sprang back toward her like a bungee cord.
Sammy wasn't expecting the sudden impact. Greg's hands found her neck, trying to bring her forward toward his mouth. She shrieked and shoved against him. "Daryl!" Her heart was hammering in her chest as she continued to shove at Greg, pleas for him to let go went unanswered as he fought to bring her closer.
The stench coming from Greg's mouth was somehow worse than the stench from his body. Either way, Sammy didn't want to be near him anymore. She cried loudly, keeping her arms locked, completely straight. Her arms were burning and threatening to buckle under the amount of strength Greg had in his own arms. Her heart was hammering her chest, her mind going blank, and the only thing she could focus on was Greg's teeth. They weren't white, or slightly stained yellow from too much coffee like she remembered, but they were dark red and black from feasting on flesh.
In the next moment, Greg's arms went slack, his groans and growls ceased, and his body weight collapsed causing her arms to finally buckle. Greg leaned heavily against Sammy, her cries turning into shrill screams as his face landed on her right breast. Daryl was in her sight, taking out the remaining few Eaters. She was in a state of paralysis, not understanding why he wasn't prioritizing Greg.
Sammy's shrill screams turned back into loud sobs as she saw the arrow sticking out of the side of Greg's skull.
Daryl quickly removed Greg from Sammy, shoving him aside carelessly to get to her. Her own exhaustion hit her hard, forcing her to her knees as Daryl caught her. "Did he bite ya?" As she tried to grip onto Daryl for safety, he kept her back, easily lifting her back to her feet. He forced her to look at him, "Answer me, Sam. Did he bite ya?" He was a little frantic, trying to get her to respond, shaking her a little as if it would get her to snap out of it.
"N-No… I don't th-think so… No." She gave herself a little check over as she blubbered to him through her tears.
"We gotta keep going, Sam. We're almost there. Just a few more blocks." He kept his hand locked under her arm, above her elbow, thinking she would shatter like glass if he let go. Sammy couldn't blame him, she probably would.
Looking down at herself, she noticed her shirt was dark and sticky from Greg's face, part of it was drool and the other part was blood. Her neck felt sore in the places her hair was sticking to from Greg's hands, knowing there would be bruises later. Her legs and arms were slightly sprayed with gore splatter from Greg and the other few run-ins with the walking dead that she had. She counted herself lucky to still be alive after everything that happened the past two days.
"I need a shower." She didn't want to go home coated in remains. She wanted to save her grandparents from worrying about her, but there was a small part of her that didn't want to go home to see what became of her grandpa either. She was blindly hoping that his bite wasn't from an Eater, but from some crazy lady fighting for the bargain deals.
Daryl still hadn't let go of her, carrying her along while she fussed over herself. "Later." He hurried them through alleyways until they got to the neighborhoods. He forced her to run through yards, dodging Eaters that were solitary or too wounded to follow them.
Sammy was doing everything she could to not look at their faces. She knew these people, their kids, who they hung out with. She didn't really care for most of them, but it still ruined her image of the town going back to normal if she saw their faces. She knew Greg wouldn't come back, or the teenage girl, but she kept some hope for Marco who was still locked in the fridge at the bar.
When Daryl pulled her through a yard that spat them out onto her street, she looked around with more care. She was horrified to see a car was flipped over in the living room of the McKenny's house, just three houses down from her grandparents'. Most of the other houses were abandoned. Clothes, toys, loose papers, and random things were littered in the streets. Sammy noticed that almost all the cars were gone too, except ones that didn't work or couldn't be used to bring most of their belongings.
"Where did everyone go?" Sammy whispered, only asking as a hypothetical.
Daryl answered her anyway. "To the shelter in Atlanta."
She didn't voice anymore of her thoughts as they rushed to her home. Once they crept into the familiar yard, Sammy was delighted to see her beloved black military truck still parked in her spot. She had large storage containers sitting behind the truck, hidden from sight by anyone in the streets. For a moment, she wondered why no one would take them as they were full of valuable supplies. Then she realized that most people would only care for themselves and their loved ones and a shelter that provided most of their needs would sound good.
Sammy followed Daryl in a brisk pace, hurrying over to her truck. They both checked around for any Eaters caught behind the house, but it was clear. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Sammy was half expecting to find her grandparents wandering around as one of the Eaters. That fear of finding them like that flared once she glanced at the back door.
Daryl had gone inside the bunker, probably searching to see if Merle had cleaned the place out. Sammy decided to head into the house to check on her grandparents. She twisted the knob on the door, pulling it open as quietly as she could. It hadn't surprised her that the door was unlocked, her grandparents hadn't remembered most times. What did surprise her, was Marge, who had a wooden baseball bat held up, ready to swing at her head.
The door lazily swung open the rest of the way as Sammy immediately held her hands up by her ears. "It's me! It's Sammy, Grams!" Marge took a moment, the hardness in her eyes melting slowly as she processed Sammy's words. Her arms lowered, the bat clattering to the floor as it slipped from her grip. Before she knew what was happening, Marge had her arms around Sammy's shoulders, holding her as close as she could, a shaky sigh leaving her lips.
"I was afraid for you, dear." Marge tried to crush her more against her. Sammy was barely able to breathe as she tried to rub soothing circles on her grandma's back. "I tried your phone, the bar. I even tried to call the police, but everyone's phones were disconnected or gave me a busy dial tone."
Sammy heard Marge sniffle before feeling a small spot on her shirt become wet. "I tried calling you too. The Savage Sons kept me safe, made me think a little. How are you? How's grandpa? How did you know not to go outside?"
Marge let go of Sammy a little, keeping her in her grasp, but far enough to stare at her face. "Some of the people in the streets are attacking us. They stink something awful and try to eat people. I don't understand what it is. I was outside yesterday afternoon talking with our nice neighbor, Gabby Moore. We see Frank Miller – the town grouch who can't let anything go, even if you have a permit to build a bunker in your own yard – anyway, he was walking towards us all slow like." Sammy found herself relaxing as her grandma talked. She loved letting her talk her to sleep as a child, but she felt like she needed to do just that. "We were asking him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say anything past a few mumbles – and it sounded like he was growling at us! I feel bad for Gabby, he lunged at her and was biting her. Our screams attracted a few more neighbors just like Frank and I ran inside to call the police."
"And you couldn't get through."
Marge's tears flowed heavily down her cheeks as she continued to tell Sammy about her friend and neighbor. "I kept an eye on Gabby, but I could tell they bit her to death. I thought it was a trick when she got up, but she joined the others when they spotted a dog. Poor thing ran off before they could grab it."
Sammy wanted to skip past the rest of the rambling, "Where's grandpa?"
A terrified look came over her face. Her cries slowed down a little bit as she stared at Sammy with guilt flashing in her pupils. "He's in the bedroom." Sammy thought it was odd her grandma wasn't giving her more information.
She placed her hands on Marge's shoulders, being cautious. "Can I go see him?"
Marge shook her head, holding Sammy in a tight grip. "I tried giving him some food, but he won't eat it. I tried giving him his favorite drink, but he knocks it from my hands. I even tried to give him some raw steak, but he ignores all of it."
A sudden dread filled Sammy's stomach. She knew what happened to her grandpa. His bite from the grocery store had gone from a weird accident to a death sentence. She wanted to apologize to him, but more than that, she wished he never went to the store with Marge. Sammy thought it was rare for him to tag along with her and thought it was sweet when he did accompany his wife. Now, she regrets it, even if there was nothing she could have done. She had been sleeping when they went out, only getting up after they were already home and cleaning him up. "I'm so sorry, Grams."
"He's just not feeling right, dear. He'll be alright. The government Is looking for a cure. I'm sure the CDC has something already. Your grandpa and I believe they don't make something in a lab without having an antidote on hand. They're probably mass producing it right now."
Her first thought was that Marge was naïve, but then it had been a mere few hours ago that Sammy thought it only affected their small town. She wanted to believe that her grandma was right about the CDC making a cure or already having one, but with how quickly this disease spread, Sammy wasn't going to take her chances. "We can all drive out to the CDC together, then. Let's grab what we can and fill up the truck. We can figure out what to do with grandpa after."
Marge nodded, agreeing to start gathering supplies. She told Sammy she would start in the basement that was conveniently stocked from her couponing. She came back up the stairs a few moments later with a box of goods. "They called us crazy for this, you know. Now we're the ones prepared, and they can only scramble a few cans together. If it's as crazy as I'm thinkin' then they're going to need more!"
Sammy came out of the hallway with blankets and pillows, setting them on the couch in a messy pile. "Well, if some think they can come back here for supplies, they'll be in for a shock when they see we cleared out."
Carrying her box to the back door, Marge set it down by the door before peering out the pale-yellow curtains covering the window. "Did you come with anyone?"
Sammy looked over at Marge as she brought out some other things from the linen closet. Her next stop was going to be the bathroom, hoping to clean it out in a single trip. "Just Daryl. He stopped by the bar." Sammy slipped into the bathroom, gathering as much as she could carry in her arms and went back into the living room to dump it on the couch. She made two more trips before deciding to raid the kitchen.
After confirming there was no one suspicious in her backyard, Marge had disappeared again into the basement. Sammy looked around the kitchen before looking over into the living room as she felt like she was being watched suddenly. She tried to shake the feeling after confirming no one was around, but her movements slowed down as she tried to listen. She heard shuffling but upon turning towards the living room again, she didn't see anything. She assumed it was her grandma coming back up the stairs since they sometimes creaked or echoed movement.
Marge opened the basement door, not noticing Sammy's stares as she moved toward the couch, her back turned from the hallway. She set down her box, looked over at Sammy with a small smile and started her way back over. It felt like things slowed down, like an old film reel that couldn't keep up anymore.
Clive had come out of the bedroom and had made it down the end of the hallway at that very moment. Marge hadn't seen him coming as he suddenly threw himself at her, knocking her down on her side. Marge twisted the rest of the way to try and block the sudden attack, lifting her arms in defense as a reflex. Getting hit or kicked wasn't something she should have been afraid of, but instead Clive's white teeth that hadn't had the pleasure of turning red from feeding on flesh.
Marge screamed as Clive stained his teeth with the flesh on her arms, bringing his own up to hold her as he bit and pulled her. She tried to resist, flailing as much as she could while trying to kick out from under him. All her attempts were unsuccessful as he suddenly pinned down her arms and went for the exposed flesh above her bosom. Blood poured steadily from the bite wounds, turning her clothes a dark red before messily splashing on the floor in light droplets and small trickles. The pain that erupted over her body with every bite, eventually made Marge pass out. Her screams left her throat dry and aching, but she welcomed the black silence as she no longer felt her husband eating her alive.
Sammy hadn't been able to move. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her mind was screaming for her to do something, and her legs were threatening to collapse. She hadn't realized she started crying until she inhaled, and a loud sob was heard over the now silent house. She didn't know what to do as she helplessly watched her grandma die. Being eaten alive by her husband.
She was still in shock, even as her grandpa's eyes looked her way. The taste of Marge's flesh must not have been as filling as he moved sluggishly to stand and start his way to Sammy.