Archer's Paradox
Chapter One: At Least There's A Dog
It was not her fault.
She wasn't responsible for making the sky blue, that was a response to the sunlight reflecting off atoms in the atmosphere. She didn't have a hand in creating the oppressive weather Georgia was known for either. You can go and blame that on the Earth's tilt as it orbited the sun turning the southern U.S. into a sauna.
Saying that the stench of rott was her doing was far fetched. It was the new unnatural normal as it sunk into the pavement and dirt, latched onto clothes and permeated drywall and floors of homes. The sun magnified the smell, making it worse at midday, and the hotter the season became the worse the odor was. When this first started, the Georgia heat and humidity caused the smell to grow pungent wherever you went and there weren't many places left without a lingering corpse or two. If you were lucky, they'd be the dead kind.
Venturing into the once bustling cities and towns was eerie and dangerous. They had become haunted graveyards. Most of the population didn't make it past the first couple of weeks, either dying from infection, starvation, or by other nefarious means and even in their deaths they couldn't rest. In minutes to hours later, the body woke again, hungering for the flesh of their once brethren. Instead of resting, they rose into an infection, a disease, a pest that the remaining souls had to deal with.
The zombies, roamers, biters, lurkers, whatever you wanted to call them wandered aimlessly, coming into homes, buildings, and pastures. There wasn't any place left that wasn't touched by them and, at first, the dead were horrifying. Their low moans, oddly reminiscent of wounded animals, and shuffling steps were the only warning before they readied for an attack. The snarling growl they gave as when they hunted brought forth goose flesh and shivers down the spine. The sound spurring on others of its kind until a pack formed, chasing after its prey.
But it became somewhat manageable if you were able to live long enough. The things would shuffle here and there, becoming aggressive when a noise caught their interest or someone moved too quick and smelled too much like a living being. If you didn't let fear control you and paid attention to your surroundings, you could manage to work your way around them.
They weren't the largest threat however.
No, that was reserved solely for the things that could plan, adapt, and change its mind in a moment's notice.
That is awarded exclusively to humans.
There wasn't a species on Earth that was more mercurial than them. A group that could whisper to you sweet nothings while they offered poisoned wine and food. One that produced people that revelled in the fear, got off on torture, and wallowed like pigs when they had all the power in their little corner of the world.
Honestly, it wasn't anything new. In the past, it was just hidden better, covered up either by ignorance or by diversion. Instead of hearing about the elder that was murdered down the street, the paper would post about the happy-go-lucky highschool student that got a full scholarship to such and such college. They weren't necessarily at fault, because the human race didn't want to hear about what it created and it would rather let some of its other members deal with it. The police and sheriffs helped. They kept the streets as clean as they could and enforced order in their districts, but when the world ended and they didn't exist anymore? The scum of the earth took their chance and rose up in the world.
She found out quickly that humans would blindly follow whomever they thought would give them the highest chance of surviving. Despite knowing that their leader was a scumbag, they'd still follow their orders to perfection.
Memories always on the edge of her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her. Jessie sniffed giving herself that ever present noxious influx of dead flesh and prompting her to rub her nose with the back of a dirty hand. The odor muffled the distinct scent of the gasoline she'd poured inside the house ahead of her.
No, it wasn't her fault that the world went to shit.
Jessie opened the worn lighter, flicking the side to give it the spark it needed to flame. Her arms shook and her fingers clenched around the metal as she warred with herself. She couldn't stay here anymore, couldn't let herself hope that he might come back. She needed to face the fact that her man wouldn't be driving up the street and, as much as she doesn't want to consider it, that there was a high possibility that he'd didn't make it.
Jessie's lip trembled, vision blurring and she bit the skin bloody to keep the tears from falling. She'd come back here every few days hoping that she'd find him smoking on her front porch like he used to do. He'd always showed up with mud or oil staining his clothes, smeared over his skin and kept to the back porch because he knew how much she disliked the tracks he'd leave in her kitchen. Her man was considerate like that, enough that she placed a minifridge stocked full of his favorite beer and an ashtray nearby on her porch.
But he hasn't been back or left a note or even a sign that he'd been by in the past three seasons. There wasn't a butt left in the tray or any new tracks left in her house. Not a note on the door or his bike moved from the garage. And if she wanted to live, she couldn't get upset anymore or linger in false hope for him to come home any day.
Jessie wiped away the tears on her cheeks before flicking off the lighter. She couldn't part with it just yet, afterall it was one of her gifts to him and the one he forgot to take with him when he left to visit his brother's. The dumb man thought that she'd study better if he wasn't around, saying that he'd be back quicker and for her to 'do ya best Jessie Kay and I'll have a treat for ya when I get home' with that wink and crooked smile.
She'd never get that reward, would she?
Jessie shrugged off her pack, ripping out her last match book and lit the stick before flinging it towards the gascan. After a final breath in and turning her back on her old home she patted her thigh. "Let's head out, Dog. We need to get as far away from here as we can."
The mutt trotted up next to her, shifting to lean against her leg and her hand went down to scratch the top of his head as it became custom for her to do over the past nine months. The dog's shaggy black and white fur ruffled when the house caught aflame, sending out a wave of heat on that mid-spring day, cuing him to start down the dirt trail they left during her many trips back here. Jessie stepped forward, one heavy boot at a time, slipping her fingers around the pack's straps and readying herself to follow.
She could only be blamed for holding onto hope and burning down her own home. None of the rest was her fault.
The twenty pound dog was covered in black cloth and mud, hiding the white of his torso and his feet turned into an earthy brown. He sat next to the equally disguised woman, covered in dark brown leather armor and black charcoal covering her face. The only starkly visible parts of her were the whites of her eyes, a slight glint from her glasses and the pale sliver of skin around her hairline.
She followed Dog's lead when he alerted her to the noise before it reached her. She brought up the cloth hood shadowing that small visible piece of skin and picked up the pace. He jumped over logs and branches that got in his way with his natural grace while Jessie was less dexterous due to the heavy bundle on her back but hadn't fallen flat on her face since they started this leg of the adventure. They steadily pounded their way along the forest trails until he stopped from bursting out into the clearing like she trained him. She crouched down into the underbrush next to him, catching sight of a new group that recently took over their formidable home.
She had marked this spot as a 'do not approach' since she found it in late spring. It was too large to be of any use to her, far too risky to go in and scout by herself. The prison had a decent amount of zombies loitering in the fields and she didn't want to guess what was lying in wait indoors. She still had made a mental note of its presence and that if she didn't have enough provisions for the two of them to last, then it could be a last ditch attempt.
Jessie huddled next to the border collie mix, keeping one hand on the sword at her hip while the other did an absent minded brush of the dagger's hilt on resting against her side, and spied a man out in the field… farming?
An oddity for sure but not completely abnormal. Though she commended him for his efforts, he did have a nice little garden forming from tomatoes to corn to melons or cucumbers, but he seemed to be actively ignoring his most pressing problem that literally lined his fences. Jessie leaned a bit to the side to catch a better glimpse of the man.
He was wearing a light button up shirt, pants that'd seen better days and a brown beard salted with white. He was joking with a young boy, probably a nephew or son judging by their similar looks, gesturing to something hidden in a pen. Dog let out a low whine when he saw a figure riding a bay mare down the dirt road towards the prison entrance. The farming duo jogged over to the guard tower to tug on some rope, opening the angled metal doors that protect their home from invasion.
She barely heard the sounds of a joyous reunion between the family before another set readied for departure. A large grey truck pulled up and the distinct noise of a 'cycle came with it. Nose wrinkling in irritation at the man on the bike, Jessie couldn't help but wonder why exactly an idiot thought that a 'cycle be helpful.
Sure, they could be agile and fit between cars on the road. Definitely used less gas than a truck and just a bit more than a car. But that didn't make up for its drawbacks. It lacked security, had little space for stashing any finds and the thing made so much noise. It was an announcement to the world that there was an easy meal right around the corner.
Recognition tingled on the outside edge of her thoughts. Blinking, Jessie struggled to place it until she let out a small huff.
That right there on his black bike, slick black clothing and shaggy dark hair that needed a trim was the damn idiot that left a noise machine outside her hideout!
Blackened face frowning in instant irritation, Jessie recalled the horde that was drawn out from BigSpot a day ago when she spied the pale biker and his companion placing the boom box and battery combination in front of the store. Green eyes twitched when the camo wearing woman ran across the street to open the gates holding back a small horde. She and Dog were stuck inside for hours before the pack had wandered off far enough for them to make a break for it.
One agitated sniff later, Jessie flicked her hand backwards before leaving the underbrush. Dog quick to follow, twisting around her legs, trotting farther ahead to take the lead back to their routine path.
Dwelling on the past wasn't helpful for the future, Jessie reiterates to herself, stopping to pick at the blueberry bushes, giving herself and Dog a treat now and then. Once the leather bag was filled and tied back to her belt, they took off again.
Her canine abruptly stopped, one front paw off the ground, black ears forward. Jessie yanked out her sword, slowly walking forward until she was level with him, adrenaline surging through her veins and muscles tense. Her ears pricked up when she heard a low gravelly voice speaking with an oddly accented one.
Jessie grabbed Dog by the scruff, pushing him behind her and leading them to the hilltop, keeping just out of sight but close enough to watch nonetheless. She laid down in the leaves, the pieces piercing though the cotton sleeves and scrapping her arms as she looked over the slope.
Between the trees, she saw the farmer walking behind a ghastly woman, thin and wiry. The waifs hands clung to the foil wrapped object, her shoulders hunched inwards and kept taking tentative glances behind her. Dog whimpered beside her, distressed as he smelt the air and pawed at her pant leg. She sighed when she felt it through the roughed up jeans.
It seems we have to save an idiot today. Jessie thunked her head against the forest floor at the thought.
She crept behind the two as they walked and talked about statues, taking slow steps to keep from cracking twigs and rustling leaves. She listened while the woman spoke of how she was on a honeymoon with her husband Eddie and how he kept her safe and alive. Jessie followed behind, catching more of their conversation and saw around the two an orange tent and the campsite ahead.
"This is not charity," he said. "You have to have numbers. People are the best defense against walkers or people. We help each other."
"Hey, Farmer," Jess slipped in and voiced, "I'd suggest you don't go any farther with her."
Lean muscles tensing and freezing in a natural instinct to a potential threat. The man twisted to keep her in his sights and raised both arms with palms up. The waif saw her chance, leaping towards him with her knife raised to stab the naive man.
Jessie jolted forward, twirling beyond the farmer's grasp and yanking the offending wrist backwards forcing the waif's hand to go numb and let go. The raven-haired woman used all of her strength against thin shoulders to shove the waif away causing her to sprawl backwards and tripping to the ground.
"Let me go, you ass," she snarled when cold steel pushed against the back of her head. Dog burst through the trees, teeth bared and growling. Jess whistled sharply to keep the canine from attacking. "Look at the ground. That isn't my knife."
She felt him lean over her shoulder, an easy feat when he was a good six plus inches taller than her. The desperate woman scrambled along the floor finding the weapon and held it in front of her. The metal left Jess' skull, but she didn't look away from the small threat ahead of her.
"I wasn't tryna ta hurt you. But, but Eddie is slowing down! He needs to eat," the would be assailant pleaded, her eyes wild and flicking from Jess to the farmer beside her.
"Feed him what? Super fresh meat straight from the deli?" Jess' lips pulled back in a sneer, chin thrusting forward towards the canine that rounded behind the waif. "He says you smell like zombie."
"I wanted to take the boar," the waif rambled, knife held tightly against her, "I just knew I could get you here quicker. He's starving. He's slowing down, needs something alive." Barefooted, the wildling took several steps back, cracking the twigs underfoot. "He- he protected me against them, the walkers. I told you I can't be without him and so I kept him. Feeding him what I found, scavenging just like he taught me."
Jess palmed the dagger on her left side. A desperate person was a bigger threat than a hopefully sane one. She side eyed him, turning just a bit to keep him squarely in her peripheral. Just because she wanted him to be sane, doesn't mean that he was. The woman beyond them continued, breath hitching while she tried to explain why she was going to kill the man, "I- I loved him. I can't do things like this. And- and you have to do things like this."
Realization dawned on Jess. This was less of an explanation and more of a confession. She sucked her tongue to the top of her mouth, crossing her arms in front of her. Temptation struck her, wanting to lash out at the distraught lady, but she crossed her arms in front of her chest, hands gripping her biceps.
"Let me be like him," the waif pleaded, "don't stop it. Don't end it after. Let me be with him, if not here then when I'm dead." Confession finished she dropped to the forest floor, slipped the blade into her abdomen, cutting into bowels and intestines. The dying woman hunched forward, face to the ground while Farmerman shouted and stepped towards her.
Jess took the opportunity, moving to the side away from the soon to be corpse and the next potential threat. Dog slipped behind her, pushing against her calves and standing by her side.
"What were … the questions," the woman requested, "three questions."
Farmerman looked up to the sky, silent for a beat before answering in a thick voice, "How many walkers have you killed?"
"Eddie k-killed them all. Until...," she gasped and trailed off.
"How many people have you killed?"
"Just me. Just me."
"Why," he asked but she wasn't able to reply.
Jessie sighed, turning to leave the clearing. Better to get away while he was emotionally distracted and he wouldn't remember that she was here. She didn't get more than five steps before she heard, "Why did you help?"
Left foot in front of her, she froze and awkwardly turned backwards. Farmerman was up, jeans dirty from where he knelt next to the woman, staring at her with icy eyes and a gun ready in his hand.
"Uh…," she stalled. She really didn't want to say that she was spying. In her experience no one ever took that well. She tried to organize her thoughts and out came an undignified "Um…"
"Answer me," he commanded, gun raised and the sound of it cocking caught her attention.
Shit, shit, shit.
She raised her hands while her mouth moved on its own accord, having no filter like it did when she was nervous. "Jesus. I saw you earlier today. With your wife and kid. At the prison. Dog and I were in the bushes when she came back. And Dog scented the smell before I saw you and her." She flapped her hand at the body on the ground, "Enough families have been broken up so far. Why would I let another one be split apart?"
Icy blue eyes watched her, assessing her from head to toe, making her uncomfortable with his intensity. "Hey, can you stop staring? I can tell you're fine. You didn't need me to step in. I can't say that I'm sorry but I'm glad you can make it home to them."
"Are you alone?"
Wait. What?
Jess' mind short circuited, hands falling to her side as bad memories tried to pop up. "Look Farmer Rick. All ya need to know is that I'm fine and that I'm leaving with Dog."
She turned, giving him her back, starting forward again with Dog hot on her heels, "Shoot me if ya want. Just make sure it's a headshot."
She sauntered towards her pack, lifting it up and brushing off the dirt and leaves stuck to it.
"Do you have a place to stay? Food? Water?"
Jess glances back finding Farmerman close by, aluminum bundle in his hand and a ready smile on his face. A human being determined to know more about her? Time to end this quickly, she thought and babbled, "Why? Ya asking me out?"
Making people feel awkward and uncomfortable is one of the quickest ways to get them to leave you alone. It had been her go to when men hit on her before the outbreak happened. Worked like a charm for most of them and if it didn't, well the man that shadowed her tended to keep them away.
Jess' heart dropped, hurt by the pain of not having him nearby. The wound still fresh and festering even after the past couple months since she left the house. She shoved it aside like she did multiple times a day when it cropped up and laughed when she saw Farmerman's face blossom red. Call her an ass, but it amused her to make others uncomfortable.
She watched, eyes dancing with amusement that hid the lingering pain while he rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the ground.
Ah. Making a grown man blush was the highlight of her day. Jess grinned, showing off her pearly whites when he finally looked back at her.
"Uh. No…," flustered, he backtracked, "Not that you're not a pretty lady. You're probably a gem, under all that dirt." Blue eyes widened in realization, "Shit, sorry! I mean I owe you for helping me."
Jess chuckled and took a good look at him. His clothes were a bit too big, but relatively clean. Not to skinny meaning his group had food or to padded saying that he didn't keep all the food for himself. A shiny watch on the left wrist, clearly telling her that he was able to keep what was his. She was tempted to answer. It would be a treat to be able to get a few hours of decent sleep.
She didn't have a good track record with groups. They tended to either die or want more from her than she could give. As she mused, Dog slipped forward, paw extended in a handshake and tongue lolling out to the side begging for scratches from the man. She watched him with careful eyes while he crouched down to give the canine what he wanted. Jess could see that Dog was in cloud-nine when the man got to his neck and under the black cloth, a leg thumping on the floor.
"Alright," she decided abruptly and started off onto the trail, "The rest of my stuff is about a mile from here."
Peering over her shoulder to both dog and man she prompted, "Ya coming?" She smiled easily when Dog rushed to get ahead and man stood straight, letting his legs eat up the ground to walk next to her. "I don't know how many zombies I've gotten rid of. I've killed six people. Some because they were going to hurt my family and others cause they tried to rape me."
She continued forward when he stopped and blurted, "Those are my answers to your questions, alright."
She kept her eyes straight ahead, following Dog towards the camp, glad when Farmerman didn't ask for more information. She heard his boots scuffing the leaves before feeling a hand hesitantly placed on her shoulder. Jess turned to see a somber look cross his face and she raised her eyebrow. He looked her up and down once more before gently smiling and saying softly, "Thank you. I'm Rick. Rick Grimes."
Jess took a moment to process his admission, giving into a chuckle that grew into a laugh. She tried to stop it but couldn't until she lost her breath and tears formed in her eyes. "Well, hello Ranger Rick. I'm Jessie Lewis. Happy to meet ya."
Dog barked up ahead, tone showing his displeasure at waiting for the weird human ceremony of introduction. Rick swung his arm forward, a gentlemanly gesture she hadn't seen in almost a year, saying with a wink, "Let's get you home. Ladies first."
And for the first time in months, Jessie felt hope bubbling away.
Jess snickered as she pointed for Rick to look up and up the tree until he saw the small platform hidden in the old hickory tree. She reached into the ivy vines that hid the tug rope, she pulled the rope ladder down, shrugging off the pack to the ground
"Can you go in those bushes? Careful of the wire traps and bear traps that are there." Jess asked while she started her climb. She heard Rick curse when a trap activated and snapped on the large tree limb he found. She called down, "there's two more."
Her little abode wasn't much, but it worked for her and Dog, kept them safe from the zombies and ferals. She grabbed the set of keys next to the small nest she and Dog had been sleeping in, looked over the side of the platform, calling down, "Catch!"
She chuckled when she heard scrambling and more cursing coming from her new companion. The unique sound of car doors unlocking floated up to her as she stuffed her bed and pillow into trash bags, tying it off at the top before tossing it overboard. Jess did the same to the few pelts and leather armor pieces she'd scavenged from the faire grounds. She grabbed the old leather bag, already partially full of this and that's, filled it to the brim with the few overly large shirts she took from her home, and slipped it over her shoulder. She buckled the men's wide belt around her hips to hold the two axes she'd taken when she risked a second run into the faire.
Once she reached the ground, Jess was pleasantly surprised to see Rick folding the camouflage tarps into squares and loaded her bag and packs into the trunk of her Wrangler. Rick finished his task and took the driver's seat, Dog hopped into the cabin from Jess' door and she settled in the supple leather. With a flourish of one dirty calloused hand she proclaimed, "Drive on, Ranger Rick."
He chuckled softly next to her, changing gears and slowly maneuvering it to the road. "For starters, I'm just Rick and the boy that was with me earlier is my son, Carl. We have a large group in the prison now. Most of them aren't from our original group," he trailed off, face going stoic as he drove, "We didn't lose anyone when we took the prison. My wife and several others died shortly after."
Ach. Jess immediately felt like a bitch for her earlier comment, "'m sorry. That had to be excruciating."
He inclined his head, "Who you saw was Michonne. She's somewhat of a drifter that comes to roost with us when she isn't on the road. We have a team that goes out scavenging and another that tends to the fences." He glances over briefly, "I'm guessing you're going to go with the former."
She shrugged, "I'm up for either one. I'm kinda a Jack-of-all-trades woman."
"I'll keep that in mind." He purses his lips while he concentrated, "We have a few families there. Hershel, Beth, Maggie and her husband Glenn, he's from my original group. Carol who sort of mothers everyone into their roles and a huge influx of others from Woodbury."
She grunted in affirmation that she was listening while watching the forest scene whizz by. "That's the town that had the Governor as the dictator right?"
"You know him," he inquired with eyebrows raised.
"Of him," she corrected. "Dog and I, we were… watching that group of his working on a noise machine. It drew zombies into a pit trap and they'd use a net to lift them up into a truck to deliver somewhere. He took a shot at Dog when we got too close," she shrugged and picked at her black sleeves, "Didn't want to meet him after that."
"Good idea," Rick said, "He held several of our friends hostage. Had one of our member's brother torture two and left another one tied to a chair in a room with a walker."
Jess whistled, "Damn, are they okay? Er… it isn't my place to ask questions like that, but still… they made it? The two that were captured."
"Made it and going strong," he replied, "Maggie and Glenn went through hell but we got them out."
"And the brother," she asked, the scenery suddenly changing from woodlands to open fields. That had to have been harsh. Groups became something like family and to be torn between blood family and family by choice? It had to have been soul shattering.
"Oh, he did it under the Governor's orders," Rick notes, "but came back with us when he realized his brother was in our group. He died later trying to kill Phillip. The Governor, that is."
Rick drove them up to the metal gates, rolled down the windows to stick out his curly head. His son, Carl Jessie absently reminds herself, opens the gates for them to slip through.
"Dad! Michonne and them just got back," the boy exclaimed excitedly. His eyes the same shade as his father's were curious, peeking into the truck. Jess ginger waved at him, while Dog popped up between the two seats. "You have a dog?!"
Jessie chortled, patting said dog on the head, "Yep and his name is Dog." Rick chuckled at the sour look that crossed Carl's face at the unoriginal name, and added, "Hop in and let us get up to the courtyard before you start trying to take him away from Jessie."
The way up proved uneventful. Dog enjoying the extra attention from Carl and lapped every part he could. Carl giggled as the canine licked his cheek and Jess didn't miss the grateful look that flashed on Rick's face. Before she could stop herself she spoke, "Look under the seat. Dog tends to hide his toys there. He's a great fetcher."
Carl missed Jessie's wink when he dived to search for the aforementioned toy. His cheeks red with excitement when he held up his prize, a worn down tennis ball grasped securely. Dog being a dog, yipped with shared joy and scurried over to the door. Both the boy and dog impatient to begin their play.
Rick and Jessie basked in the sound of childhood innocence, something in little supply any longer as the two raced out of the car and to the open space, Carl chucking the ball as hard as he could against the wall. Adults emptied the Jeep, Jessie's side hiding the prison and its inhabitants from view.
Men and women rounded on Ranger Rick while she gave herself a pep talk. Her social anxiety kicking in and introverted nature screaming for solitude only the forest can provide her now. She sucked in a deep breath before rounding the tail of her car. Movements made jerky by nerves, Jess rounded to quickly and smacked into the back of one large man.
Nose buried into the leather of his clothes, Jess inhaled the coy smell of cigs. Glasses askew and vision blurry until she righted them, the raven-haired woman pushed herself back. Blinking the dark shape into focus, she noted the faded wings sewn onto a sleeveless black vest.
Her heart jack hammered in her chest, sight narrowing down to one person. The stranger's voices became muffled and Jessie froze as one voice pierced through the cotton in her ears.
"Hey Rick. Who's the new gal?"
Memories flashed in front of her. Her man taking her out on the trails, getting snippy when they found she made traps better than him, sitting on the porch drinking beer, playing cards at the table and using the excuse of watching television to neck like teenagers again. Happy memories morphed into more recent ones. Waiting day after day at their home, trucking through the woods after she'd been assaulted and Dog injuried protecting her, burning their home as a final goodbye but still clinging to bits a pieces of him, and wearing his shirts through the long winter nights while she huddled with Dog in her Dad's old hunting blind.
Rage poured through her veins as she struggled to find words to fit the feeling. Jess' hands clenching at her sides, hazel eyes narrowed as she hissed venomously, "You."
She'd say to her dying day that it wasn't her fault when her hand curled into a fist and Jessie used the technique he, Daryl Dixon, the man that was supposed to be as much hers as she was his, taught her to to wallop him in the nose.