WILDFIRE PART 1
The world was on fire and the smoldering smell of burning meat tarnished the flavor of her lit cigarette. It was disgusting but Natasha really couldn't stop because it was somehow still relaxing her nerves that were in a constant state of jitteriness. She thought, that perhaps, it was the feeling of nostalgia that eased her distress, a small memory of when times were simpler.
Natasha's eyes glanced down to the pack of smokes in her hand that only had one left inside. She drew her hand up to her lips and pulled out her cigarette so she could release the smoke from her lungs. It filled the air and clouded her vision of the city. Atlanta. It once was her home, where her apartment was and where she lived with her fiancé. He was the man she would wake up and see first thing in the morning, having to have already made her a cup of his delicious coffee. It would be rich, full of cream and extra sugar, and have a hint of hazelnut. It was her favorite and Ben knew it more than anyone. But now...it's been months since she's had a cup.
She never knew that the things she treasured would be taken for granted until the moment they were all lost to her. It was like the world was now in a permanent state of twilight where you would be at your most vulnerable. No longer could you go to sleep in the safety of your own home, wake up with a steaming cup of coffee that your partner made for you, and going to work while planning your day out. People even lost their guarantee for a 'new tomorrow'. Natasha remembered cherishing every second she had being alive, but now it feels like she's surviving just to die slowly.
The sky glistened in a beautiful pattern of warm glows and pastel hues. Oranges blended in well with the reds and the purple and blues filled the rest of the skies as dawn finally broke. The sun rose behind the buildings of Atlanta and showered the survivors in golden light, but for them, the only thing they really saw was the blood on the ground that had turned black from aging. The night was over but it was only an indication that a new long day had just begun. A long day of digging holes and burying the dead before the smell got worse. Hardly any tears were shed and catatonic stillness broke through everyone's bodies, leaving them feeling hollow and aimless. It was all they really could do.
Natasha wandered back to the rock quarry and felt her ears cringe with the sound of bones shattering from a pickaxe breaking through the skulls of the dead. Leave it to Daryl to do the dirty work, seeing no change in his rough expression despite the blood and brain matter dripping off the pick. Natasha, on the other hand, looked green and had to use her scarf to hide her nose from the smell. She looked down at her feet and saw the blood beginning to run downhill. She stepped to the side to avoid it.
Daryl glanced up after yanking his pickaxe out from a skull of a corpse. "You're still here?"
"What-" Smoke went down the wrong pipe for a moment and she ended up coughing a few times before pulling the cigarette from her lips. "What are you talking about, Daryl?" she said and dropped the cigarette in her hands, putting it out under the worn-out boots that were practically mended to her legs at this point.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" his face turned up into a sneer. "Look around you. It ain't the best first impression."
She thought it over for a moment till it finally clicked in her head. Natasha tipped her head to the side and stared intensely at him, very much baffled. "You thought I was going to leave because of this?" she said.
"Which is beyond me why you're not gone yet. You don't seem like the type of person who needs a group. You sure as hell looked like you were doing fine on your own way before we found you."
Natasha couldn't help but smile, not in a mocking sort of way, but because it sounded like a compliment. Daryl was most likely not aware of it though. "I guess." She wouldn't deny that he was right though. Even before the world changed, she had always known how to take care of herself, but maybe it was a strong desire to be around people again that kept her body still. Well...at least around good people. "I could say the same for you. You strike me as the type of guy who could survive easily on his own." Daryl definitely had that mentality about him going on. So someone like him being in a group kind of seemed farfetched, but perhaps that's what he saw with her too.
Daryl walked over to another body laying on the ground and let Glenn and Morales drag the other one to the fire to burn. "Yeah, well, it's because I can," he said, swinging his arms all the way around and bringing the pickaxe down on another skull.
The sound of the pick breaking through the bone made her stomach turn all the way around. "Right..." She grimaced and turned to leave, not wanting to see any more gore then she had too. Natasha never thought herself to have a weak stomach, but this was honestly too much for her to handle.
Daryl yanked his pick out and caused blood to splatter far across the rocky ground. He turned up a brow and looked up at the blazing sun and the heat that radiated against his skin before his eyes fell back to Natasha, seeing her still wearing that thick coat. "Hey, ain't you cooking in that thing?" he called out and made her turn back around.
Natasha's face twisted with confusion despite how simple the question was. It still took her by surprise and made her think about it for a moment. "What?"
Now it was Daryl's turn to be confused. "You're standing out here in the Georgia sun in a thick-ass coat. Ain't you hot?" he pointed out.
An awful gut feeling began to rise up in her stomach that made her parched throat close tight. There was an odd look growing in Natasha's eyes that told Daryl that she wasn't aware of the fact that she was hot in her coat. "Ah, uh..." Her face flared up to a bright red hue and she quickly looked down at herself. She unzipped her coat and practically ripped it and her scarf off. Daryl blinked a few times and just stared at the surprising amount of ink on her body.
On her left forearm was a large bouquet of tattooed flowers that wrapped all the way around her arm that was a little sunburn from the blazing heat. There were golden marigolds that laid splendidly with the brilliant shades of the red roses and black colored lilies that sat in the background of the arrangement like a twisted shadow. On the right side of her neck was a simpler and smaller-sized tattoo, an ocean wave by the looks of it. It was a light shade of blue that turned and twisted, converting to black as it ran down her back and stopped at her shoulder blade.
Daryl pulled the pick against his shoulder and watched as Natasha turned and left. He shrugged. "Whatever," he said and walked off.
There was still uncertainty in the air that left everyone on edge as they inched around one of the survivors, Andrea, who has been in a state of stillness the whole night. She stood beside Amy, her sister's body that has grown cold with the ugly color of death on her face. She was almost a marbly-white tone with bright shades of red on her arm and neck that had large chunks taken out of it. Despite the odd severity of death that surrounded her, Amy merely looked like she was sleeping...soon to wake up.
Rick had tried to approach Andrea before but was immediately met with the barrel of a gun, which made him ease off gently to not agitate the grieving. As time grew on he was starting to get more and more nervous for her and everyone else in the camp who were just barely holding on.
"Natasha," Rick called out just as she walked by him.
She stopped mid-stride and turned her head up to him, eyes drained and exhausted. "Let me guess. It's about the body over there." She gestured her head over to Andrea and Amy.
"Yeah." Rick led Natasha by her shoulder away from earshot and closer to the rest of the survivors. "You were in Atlanta when it was overrun, so I was hoping you would know how long it would take for a body to..." he paused since he wasn't sure of the right word to describe the transition, "turn."
Everyone eased in close to her and was eager yet concerned to hear what she might have to say. Honestly, seeing Natasha hesitate to tell them made them even more worried.
"I don't know," she blurted out, much to their dismay. "Don't get me wrong. I've seen it, many times actually, but it's different."
"How different are we talking?" Lori asked.
Natasha tossed her coat down against a log and leaned her hands against her hips, rocking back and forth to search through her memories. "It varies. Once dead, it can take hours or just a couple of minutes. Sometimes it can even last for a whole day before the body wakes up again," she explained.
Shane took a moment to process that and judge how long Amy's been dead. He guessed that it might've been over five hours. "Can you put an estimate to how long you think it's gonna take?"
"That's a stretch." She eyed him doubtfully but still complied with his request. "I don't know. Maybe in an hour or near the end of the day." She then cocked her head. "You're not thinking about waiting it out, right?" Natasha's eyes grew wide when neither of them answered her, even avoiding eye contact.
"You can't be serious." Daryl overheard the conversation and walked up to them. "Let that girl hamstring us? Natasha already said that the girl's a time bomb."
"What do you suggest?" Rick said.
Daryl looked him in the eyes and got straight to the point with little to no remorse in his voice. "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."
"No," Lori spoke firmly. "For God's sake, leave her be."
Daryl looked between everyone and saw that neither of them was moving from the decision. He scoffed before walking off to finish putting down bodies before they could come back.
Rick sighed and scratched the back of his head, glancing over to Natasha who had a solemn look on her face. He was starting to feel a bit guilty for dragging her into this mess when it felt like he promised her safety, failing to do so in the end. "Natasha, I'm sorry. We brought you back here with us but...only for this to happen instead."
She sat down on a log and looked up at him, eyes half-lidded but not angry nor surprised. "Not gonna lie with you. It would've been nice to come back to a camp without having to clean up bodies the very next day." Like usual, she was calm but also flat, so he didn't have an idea about what she may be thinking, only trusting her words. "But I think everyone has to expect this for now on. Digging holes and putting bodies in them."
"Like what you did with your fiancé?" he asked and saw a darkness grow in Natasha's steely gray eyes. Rick felt his stomach drop out when it realized he accidentally stepped on a landmine of unhealed wounds.
Her jaw set and her eyes narrowed a bit but not entirely into a glare. "I never got the chance too." Her voice was cold but grieving. She got up and walked out without another word to anyone, leaving behind this air of dread and pain.
Natasha walked by as T-Dog and Glenn kept the fire going while Daryl and Morales separated the dead survivors from the Walkers. She purposely isolated herself from the scene and stood by the edge of the wood just so the smell of burning flesh won't be so prominent. The stench was something she felt like she'll never get used too, and she didn't want to get used to it. It felt unnatural to get used to it. The whole scene in front of her felt unnatural.
She was just mindlessly fiddling with her ring that hung from her neck when the sound of crunching gravel beside her got the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. She snapped her head to the side and lowered her hand down level with her weapons, only to take a breath of relief to see that it was only Dale, an elderly man in his 60's that held a good-natured smile to his lips. She quickly felt her mind be put at ease by the kindness that seemed so old and foreign to her now. When was the last time she seen such a smile like that? Maybe Ben?
"Hi," he said rather cheerful, smiling politely to not startle her anymore.
"Hi," she answered but felt unsure of what he wanted. "I, uh...I don't think we've met yet."
He shook his head and stepped beside her, rifle tucked on his shoulder but the action of possessing one in his hand felt a bit odd to him. "No, we haven't. I just haven't had the chance to come over and introduce myself and thank you for what you've done so far."
Natasha blinked. "What did I do?"
"Well..you didn't hesitate to help, and that says a lot." His old eyes said stories yet untold and wisdom that was beyond her comprehension, but above all, he seemed generally thankful for her. "It's nice to know that there are still good people out there in the world."
That comment actually made the ends of Natasha's lips turn up into a hopeful smile. "Thank you." It actually kinda hurt a bit since her lips were pretty badly cracked. "I'm Natasha, by the way." She offered her hand out, though she wasn't sure if people still did that. "Sorry. I don't know if people still do handshakes."
"I sure hope so." He snickered a bit and took her hand, squeezing it tightly and smiling. "I'm Dale."
It was soon after that her smile fell, steel falling into her eyes as they glanced around the bodies and the black blood oozing out on the ground and drying up. "Wish I could've done more." Even months after, seeing scenes like this felt surreal and unfair. She would guess that most of these people have never seen a Walker before and had no reason to carry a weapon on themselves in the first place.
Dale could understand her uneasiness and sympathize with it. "I think we all wish that, but it is what it is. This...is our reality now, and reality is ugly." His words dragged out.
"I was right slap-dab in the middle of Atlanta when...things really got serious and ugly. Government higher-ups killed people in their apartments the moment after they fire-bombed the city." Natasha's voice was bitter with memories of seeing masked men gunning down people and their families in the safety of their own home. Just thinking about it again made her stomach drop off the face of the planet.
"I still can't believe it." Dale shook his head. "Looks like you've managed to get out alright though."
"By the skin of my teeth if you can believe. I stayed off the streets. It was one of the last few warnings my fiancé said to me before he..." Natasha paused and had a distant and heavy look in her eyes for a bit, struggling to keep everything together and playing with her ring even more, "uh...died."
Dale looked away. "I'm sorry that happened to you." It was obvious by the way she was acting that his death must've been abrupt for her and she still hasn't accepted it nor gotten over it. "You got anymore family around?"
"No." Heaviness filled her voice but didn't seem as bitter from when she talked about her fiancé. It was still rather odd though and long-lasting, a storm of emotions washing over her eyes before nothingness.
"You sure?" It was so strange that Dale actually had to doubletake to make sure he didn't miss anything while blinking.
Natasha nodded. "My mom and dad passed away together when I was 10. So Ben was the only one I had left."
Dale blinked a few and felt his chest began to burn from the oxygen that escaped his lungs. "You're an orphan."
"Yeah, I guess... Things were pretty hard for me after that and I became nothing but a stupid self-destructive brat afterwards." Natasha scoffed.
"Like how?" he asked, actually getting more curious as the words fell from her mouth.
"Drinking, smoking, stealing, getting mixed up in the wrong crowds. People tried to put me in a home but...I wasn't the most cooperative child and always left. Some old habits never died but..." her hand slipped inside her satchel to the single cigarette pack that had one left inside, "things just kinda worked out in the end after I met Ben." Her lips twitched and Dale thought she was going to laugh, but it didn't stretch any further.
"Well...I'd say you turned out alright. Growing up like that probably helped you in the long-run though," he said bluntly to see if he could actually make Natasha laugh. Success finally came to him though when he saw her lips quivering to hold back giggles.
"I guess." Natasha had the kind of laugh and smile that was very contagious. It was glowing and bright, childish and freeing. To listen to it was like a newfound escape, maybe a dream that would give people the opportunity to forget about their problem and the world as they knew it.
"A Walker got him!" The laughter soon died out though when Jacqui's distressed words made Natasha's blood run cold. "A Walker bit Jim!"
The look on her face changed the instant their words reached her ears and she snapped her head over to where it came from, seeing a woman backing away from a man who just looked glazed and dazed. There was blood on his shirt that was bright red so it was fresh by the looks of it.
"I'm okay. I'm okay." Jim said wistfully as people became to crowd around him.
"Show it to us," Daryl demanded forcefully. "Show it to us."
Panic began to swell in Jim's face as he backed away from everyone, draining of color. Dale and Natasha approached him with the rest of the group and could finally see the front of his shirt. Blood was seeping through the fabric around the area that was slightly torn, believed to be made by teeth.
"Grab him." Daryl inched closed to him.
Jim turned around and grabbed a shovel off the floor and held it out in front of him to keep everyone at bay.
"Jim, put it down. Put it down." Shane ordered.
T-Dog quickly ran up behind Jim when he wasn't looking and caught his arms, a lot like he did with Natasha back in Atlanta. He held him down as Jim repeated to himself, "I'm okay." Daryl took the chance to flip his shirt up, and sure enough, there was a deep wound right below his ribs. It was throbbing and had the markings of teeth around it, ugly and infected looking.
"I'm okay. I'm okay." Jim said in a weak kind of tone, detached from reality as everything began to click for him and the severity of what happened during last night's frenzy. No one said anything to him and just stared as he repeated his words like a broken record. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay."
Jim was still somewhat in a daze and sat quietly by the RV as the rest of the camp huddled around each other to talk about what they were going to do. They were also discussing Amy's case too since it could literally be any minute now until she came back and most likely attack everyone, or worst, attack her still-living sister. Either way, Natasha saw that they were standing in a morally gray situation right now. She struggled to swallow her opinions since she still didn't know half of the people in the group, but no one would deny that she has more experience when it came to dealing with these sorts of things.
"It's not smart to leave him like that. Not only is it dangerous but it's also going to get worse for him here on out." Natasha said as her fingers curled around the frizzy coarseness of her hair to tighten it up and keep it off her neck, her tattoo's in full view of everyone. "Him staying alive and letting the infection continue to course will only hurt him in the future. When he will turn though...I don't know. It depends on him," she huffed.
"I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl said gruffly and made Natasha stop.
"I didn't mean kill him, Daryl," she said strongly with her eyes made of cold steel staring him down. "And it's not anyone's call on whether he lives or dies."
"Is that what you'd want if it were you?" Shane asked him, cocking a brow.
"Yeah," Daryl only said in response, "and I'd thank you while you did it."
Dale tightened his jaw. "I hate to say it… I never thought I would… but maybe Daryl's right." He glanced over and saw Natasha giving him a bewildered look. She said nothing and only looked somewhat disappointed.
"Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog," Rick said to him.
"I'm not suggesting…"
"He's sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"
"The line's pretty clear." Daryl chimed in. "Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be."
"What if we can get him help? I heard the C.D.C. was working on a cure." Rick suggested but both Shane and Natasha looked unsure about that course of action.
"I heard that too. Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell." Shane's eyes cast down to the floor.
"What if the C.D.C. is still up and running?" Rick seemed to be the only one with hope still left in his eyes, eyes that he looked over to Natasha with and begging for answers. "You...you said you knew Atlanta, right? Do you think they would still be operational?"
Natasha's face contorted and her voice was riddled with more dread than ever. "I'm not so sure about that one, Rick. Ben told me that the government would protect the C.D.C at all cost, but..." she stuttered and considered whether or not to tell them anything more.
Rick was urgent. "But...?" He tightened his jaw. "Natasha."
Her lips fell down. "I went to the C.D.C, just to check it out, but the place is riddled with Walkers just laying around. From what I saw, it looked like no one was home, but I didn't stick around long enough before I had to bale." She crossed her arms over her chest, optimism fighting against her realism. She wasn't sure if the C.D.C was gone so she couldn't say for sure on the matter, but the government would always be the last thing standing so they would probably just shut the place down, which is why it looked abandoned. "Maybe. Just maybe...it is still up. I couldn't get close to it on my own to be sure, but maybe we will have more of a chance with people and guns."
Shane looked uneasy about Natasha's explanation and wasn't sold on the idea. "Man, that is a stretch right there. But I think our best option would be Fort Benning."
"That's 100 miles in the opposite direction." Lori pointed out.
"That is right. But it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there." Shane's option seemed more reasonable since the C.D.C was in the Walker infested city of Atlanta. Everyone wanted shelter and protection, of course, but it's hard to take a risk like that went they got women and children with them who don't even know how to fight.
"The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We've all seen that. The C.D.C. is our best choice and Jim's only chance." Rick still seemed hellbent on the idea, or maybe he was just hoping for some structure of the old world that might be still around.
"You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do." Daryl's eyes traced back over to Jim waiting by the RV. "Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!" He turned before everyone could realize what he was doing, seeing him about to take a swing at Jim with the pickaxe. He managed to get up close to him before he felt the pick being twisted out of his grasp at the last moment. Daryl spun around fast to see Natasha backing away from him, pick in hand. His glare was harsh but she looked unbothered by it.
For once, her voice became intensely low, talking slowly so he would be able to hear every ice-cold word. "I know I haven't been here long enough to order anyone around, but I'm sure we're not all callous enough to make the call on whether an innocent man lives or dies. This is what I've come to understand. If you're the first one to threaten the life of another living being...then you automatically lose the right to your own." She held the pick up and flung it into the ground beside her. Her eyebrows cocked and she crossed her arms like she was daring him to make a grab for it.
Shane stepped up between Jim and Daryl with his shotgun resting in his hands, not aiming it but surely making a point. "We're not doing things this way. You back off. Go on," he warned him calmly.
Daryl clenched his jaw and probably had a lot of things to say behind his teeth, but surprisingly he didn't say anything. He just turned around and sauntered off, grabbing the pickaxe along the way while shoulder-checking Natasha too.
After making sure Daryl wasn't going to come back and kill Jim, Rick came by and seized him by his upper arm and began to pull him away. "Come with me," he said.
"Where are you taking me?" Jim asked, somewhat in a daze.
"Somewhere safe."
Natasha watched as Rick took Jim away, the sun beating down on them more intense than ever. Her hand trailed up to her neck and she traced the tattoo inked to her skin, clawing at it as a bitter look passed by her eyes that were supposedly made of steel, but now they looked unresolved and unhealed. Shane was going to thank Natasha for stepping in when she did, but she was already walking away before he could say anything.
