Okay okay okay- I am reeeeaaallllllllyyy happy with this chapter! I don't know why, it took me forever to write, but the descriptions, the action, the interaction between characters, just... everything... came together perfectly. I LOVE IT! You guys will love me, since because the new season is coming out in October there will be at least three or four updates between now and October. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! *bashes head against wall*. Thank you. That will be all.
They walked on along the tracks, coming across some wrappers, no doubt discarded by whoever they were tracking.
The day wore on without any other clues, however, and Daryl kept Jamie close beside him. She stayed relatively close to him, sometimes balancing on the railroad ties and sometimes studying the trees around them when the tracks wound through wooded areas.
Jamie normally stayed close enough to be near him, but out of hearing range of the other conversations, which allowed Joe to fall into step beside him.
"Well?" he asked, looking inquisitive.
"Well what?" Daryl grunted. He was a simple guy- if this man thought he could speak in riddles and be understood, he was sorely mistaken.
"How do you like the group?" Joe asked, eyes never leaving his face.
Daryl shrugged. "Don' mind it. S'long as everyone treats Jamie good, things will be fine." he lied. Because he knew that, deep down, if Jamie was left alone for too long with these men, shit would fly. And he wanted her safe more than anything.
Joe beamed, nodding. "I'm glad. Y'see, things work out with us. You follow the rules, or you get punished."
Daryl shot Joe a look, asking for an explanation.
"You get punished by the rest of the group. How much you get punished-" Joe gave him a crooked grin. "Depends on the general mood of the day."
Daryl nodded. Inside, he shuddered to think of Jamie being punished by these men. He reminded himself quietly that that wouldn't happen- that she wouldn't screw up, and that even if she did, she wouldn't let anyone lay a hand on her.
Joe shrugged. "Sounds brutal, sure, but it gets things done. You follow the rules, and everything is fine."
There was a moan from the woods, then, as a walker stumbled out.
Jamie's head snapped up from where she'd been studying the ground, instinctively flying to her quiver, but it wasn't needed.
Harley quietly darted behind the undead women, managing to her in a bear hug, while Tony smashed a crowbar into her head and she fell to the ground, blood spattering the gravel.
Wordlessly, the men dropped her and continued walking.
Jamie trotted over to the walker, turning the carcass over. She'd been dead for awhile, now, but the empty holster on her hip boasted the fact that she had, at some point, been a survivor.
She wordlessly stuffed her hands into the woman's pockets, finding nothing of value in the left one, but managing to grasp something in the right... She pulled her hand out, opening it to find a few bullets. She allowed a smile to ghost across her features, happy with the find, before she stood, pocketing the shells and trotting forward to manage to keep her distance from everyone.
Joe smiled, nodding to Jamie. "She's smart." he remarked quietly.
Daryl shrugged. "She had to be." he muttered.
Joe nodded solemnly, looking distant. And they walked on.
As evening turned to dusk, and Daryl was beginning to think they'd be spending the night in the open when they stumbled across the station.
Concrete crumbling around the edges, it looked to be a depot of some sort, a rough stop out of the way. Most likely a stop for the packages traveling by train.
The paint was peeling on the door, and the one small, grimy window was too filthy to allow a view inside.
Tony tried the door and scowled when he discovered it was locked.
"Kick it down?" Len suggested. Lou smacked him. "Dumbass. You know how loud that'll be? Not to mention we won't have a damn door to separate us from the biters." he shot Len a scathing glance, and Len glared. "Well what other choice do we have?"
It was then Daryl noticed Joe gazing at the window. The man smiled. It was enough to send shivers up Daryl's spine.
"Break the window." he ordered. Tony quietly obeyed, all while Harley grumbled that it wouldn't do them any good because they were all too large to fit...
Until everyone's eyes fell on Jamie. Daryl felt his pulse quicken. "Hell no. There's no fucking way she's going in there."
"Why the hell not?" Tony growled, scowling. "You said she could pull her weight. It ain't hard- she gets in, unlocks the door, an' we deal with what's inside."
"Yeah- if there ain't people or walkers or shit that get to her first. It's dark an we got no idea how many walkers are in there. No. Fucking. Way."
Everyone seemed to glare for a minute, and Joe sighed. "So it's safer for her to spend the night out here?"
"Since when did everything start to revolve around keeping the bitch alive?" Lou grumbled.
Jamie scowled. "I'll do it." she said quietly.
"What?" Joe looked surprised.
"I said I'll fucking do it. Just gimme a minute."
Daryl scowled at her, and she returned his glare with one almost as fierce. She quietly tossed her bow to the side, pulling the quiver off as well. A bow wouldn't do good in close range, and she drew her own gun, putting in the shells she's found earlier. Three bullets.
Daryl quietly emptied his own gun, handing her the single shell he had left. She'd go in there, alright, but hell, she'd go in there with a decent amount of ammo. He wasn't happy about it, but he recognized they needed to get in there for the night. And someday, he wouldn't be around to help her out.
He wordlessly watched her add the shell to her magazine, and she nodded to him. Her way of saying farewell. She'd better be out of there in a minute.
"Somebody gimme a boost."
Harley obliged, taking a knee and knitting his fingers together so she could put her foot on the make-shift platform. A moment later, she stood on the windowsill, trying to see through the darkness inside the place.
"Go for the door. Just run right over and unlock it, and we'll be there to back you up." Tony said, sounding reassuring. As reassuring as a gruff man could be, anyways.
"You'll do fine."
Jamie scowled at the notion failure was even a possibility. "I know."
"Course she knows. She's got it." Someone gave her an unexpected, hearty slap on the back that sent her tumbling inside.
"You fucking idiot!" Tony yelled from outside, clearly upset someone had been dumb enough to throw her inside like that.
Daryl had gone pale, fists clenched. Lou- the idiot backslapper- had best pray his little girl got herself out of this. Or he wouldn't live to see another day.
She'd landed in the broken glass from the window on the cement floor, and for a moment she laid, shocked at the sudden change in position.
She raised her head, though, and quickly scrambled onto her backside, sitting, back against the wall, and realizing what'd just happened.
"Kid? You alright?" she recognized Tony's voice from outside.
She bit back the urge to groan as she felt a twinge in her arm and saw she'd gotten glass in it. She could patch it up later. "Fine. Keep your voice down." she hissed. It was dark in here, really dark, any noise could draw them to her...
She started towards the door, gun in one hand, the other feeling along the wall for the telltale hinges and knob that would be the door.
One step, two... damn, her footsteps were loud. Even though she tread lightly, they seemed to echo like gunshots through the desolate workshop. Three, four... She sighed with relief when her hand found the rusted doorknob, and she lowered the gun quietly, fumbling to find the lock. She turned it, trying the door. To her surprise, it didn't open. She tried again, the door making a little more noise when it failed to open... Damn. There must've been a deadbolt or a latch she'd missed somewhere.
As she was about to search for one, she heard the scuffling behind her, the bone-chilling moan. She whirled, gun raised. The only thing she could make out in the darkness was the thing closest to her, a ragged, torn pant leg. She fired.
The gun shot produced a spark, enough light to catch a brief glimpse of the walker's face, and to know her bullet was going to miss.
"Shit."
She waited, heart pounding, only able to make out its vague outline as it stumbled closer, closer...
"Jamie? You alright, kid?" she heard Joe's anxious voice from outside, but didn't care, That was background noise, now, there was a walker that needed killing...
It was less than two feet away when she fired, knowing, this time, at point blank- she wouldn't miss.
The thing that caught her off guard, however, was the walker falling forward on top of her. She hit the ground, the carcass landing on her with surprising force, knocking the wind out of her.
"What the hell is going on in there!?" Tony yelled.
More moaning, then, and she realized with horror something else was coming. She forced her one arm under her, wriggling as far out as she could, so she was only pinned below the waist, before she raised the gun again...
The spark showed the walker's body jerking as the bullet hit the left shoulder, before she fired again and heard the gun click. Empty.
She was struggling, then, stumbling backwards to her feet as she freed herself from beneath the walker, throwing the gun to the side. A weapon. She needed something, anything to help her. She fumbled around the floor on her hands and knees, hoping for something, anything.
"Jamie. Answer me." she heard Daryl growl from outside. Only she could hear the concern in his voice, could tell that he really NEEDED an answer...
She was out of time. The walker that'd been stumbling towards her fell forward, intending to land on top of her, and she kicked off the ground, flying backwards and landing just out of its reach.
A dead hand reached out and seized her ankle, and she was left to desperately lash out with her other leg, the heel of her too-small boot making contact with its face and fending off the eager teeth.
"Move." she heard Daryl grumble from outside the door. She felt a brief flicker of hope within her, but nothing more. Adrenalin and the current head-rush had taken over, now, all alliance, affection, and emotion replaced with the primal desire to survive.
She didn't know how she did it, but she managed to get free. She scrambled backwards, searching frantically for something, anything she could use as a weapon.
The door shuddered, there was a bang from outside, and if she'd been able to focus on anything besides fighting right now, she'd have realized Daryl was breaking the door down.
The walker was on all fours, now, clumsily crawling towards her, threads of bloody saliva trailing from its mouth as plaid-sleeved, undead arms reached out to her.
Broken glass, crowbar, SOMETHING, she needed SOMETHING. That was when she found the can of paint to her right. It was metal. That was good enough.
The walker was closer, now, it lunged towards her. She jumped from her crouch to the side, the walker ended up flat on its stomach. And she moved, landing on its back and seizing it by its greasy, shoulder length locks of hair.
Paint can. The walker moaned excitedly and fumbled to try and claw at her, but she didn't give a fuck as she lifted it by its hair before slamming its head down on the rim of the paint can. There was the sickening sound of flesh parting, but she could still hear the wheezing that meant it breathed, or whatever the hell it was walkers did...
The door banged loudly again, and again. It was buckling under the force of Daryl slamming his shoulder into it repeatedly. Jamie had better be alive...
The door burst open and light flooded in, then, the group stumbled into the room.
The only sound was Jamie's breathing as she slammed down the walkers head again, the forehead splitting and the sounds the walker was making decreasing in volume.
She yanked the hair up again, however, not even noticing anyone else was in the room as she slammed its head down for what must've been the sixth time on the metal rim.
There was a squish, then, as an entire part of the skull gave way and the rank odor of brains joined the decaying smell and the blood spatter that surrounded Jamie and the paint can.
She stood, lips in a firm line as she examined the kill. Its forehead split open on a can of paint, it'd been a man at some point. it was dead, now... For good measure she lifted her boot and brought it down on the back of its skull. Another sickening sound filled the room, and more blood splattered on the ground. It was pretty dead. Dead-er, at least.
She looked up for the first time, then, noticing the group in the room with her.
"Hole-y shit." Tony said, drawing out the first word. The man broke into a grin when he saw her handiwork.
Jamie simply caught her breath, staring slightly. From the way they were looking at her, she must look like shit.
She looked down at her jacket and t-shirt. Sure enough, she was spattered in blood and guts- probably from having the first walker fall on her. Not to mention killing the one on the paint can- that'd been real messy.
"You did this?" Lou asked, looking around, surprised. One walker dead, another REALLY dead. Hell, she'd killed it on a paint can with her bare hands...
Jamie wordlessly nodded, looking at them all calmly. Adrenalin was wearing off, she was tired, sure- but she was alive.
Joe stepped forward, grinning, with a look of- was that... pride?
"I told ya she ain't no princess. Nice job, sweetheart." he flashed a smile at her.
Len just scowled. "Claimed." he muttered, choosing the back of the pickup in the room to jump into.
Claimed echoed throughout the room, then, as everyone found their spots to settle up for the night.
Daryl stepped forward, a concerned expression on his face as he studied her.
"You good?" he grunted. He didn't let her see if, but damn, he'd been scared out there. He couldn't see her, couldn't hear her, the only answer to his calls had been gunshots and the sounds of a struggle.
She nodded, giving him a tired smile. " 'M fine.". Truthfully, she was hungry. But that could wait. Besides, they didn't have much food, and she didn't want to make Daryl feel bad about not having meals that often. He was doing the best he could.
Daryl allowed her a relieved smile. "Good. Grab your gun. I'll go get your bow and stuff." and he strode back outside.
She kicked the dead walker as she came by, finding the gun, a bit more scuffed than before but intact where she'd thrown it a few minutes before.
She smiled slightly, tucking it back into her waistband. The scars, the scuffs- they were what made her. They were who she was now. It was a prize, a trophy, more experience one more encounter with the undead she'd survived. She allowed herself to smile a little more. One more scar- one more trophy.