As Brady woke up, she groaned. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, she ate the few saltine crackers she neglected last night. While eating her meager breakfast, she couldn't help but think about when she first met the group over 2 years ago. It was Daryl who had spotted her. Not that it was difficult to she wasn't exactly being quiet.
Brady was swearing at the new rental car. 'New technology, my ass.' She thought bitterly to herself. Okay, to be fair it wasn't really so much the car's fault as it was that she was out of gas. Surveying the area at least she could try to siphon some gas. There was a mass blockade of cars that were all abandoned. It honestly resembled a graveyard.
Whoosh, she jumped startled, and ducked down gripping the knife that was on her belt. A crossbow bolt flew by her head and hit a walker behind her. Turning around still crouched, she saw a rugged-looking man with a crossbow, aiming another bolt at her.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
Brady hesitated, unsure whether to trust him or not. She raised her hands in fake surrender, standing up. She wasn't going to put her guard down.
"Who the hell are you?" She shot right back. She wasn't going to say anything about herself if he didn't. She hadn't come across many people, and she didn't really want to. She just wanted to find her dad and make her way back home. However many thousands of miles that may be.
Brady felt on edge around him but tried to remain calm and composed.
The man eyed her suspiciously, "I asked you first."
"Name's Brady." She relented, she never considered herself an overly brave person, and honestly, she would have just made a run for it if wasn't for the fact that he was pointing a crossbow at her.
"You alone?"
"No," she lied. She could tell by the way he looked at her and bit his inner lip that she wasn't that convincing.
The man narrowed his eyes at her. "You sure about that?"
Brady didn't respond, just stared back at him with an equally skeptical expression. She didn't trust him, and she wasn't going to give him any more information than he already had.
The man grunted, lowering his crossbow slightly. "I'm Daryl." He assessed the brunet with medium-length hair tied in one braid, supporting black framed glasses on her nose. Average build, wearing red plaid and dark jeans. Deciding on the 5'5 girl who barely looked like she was 20, hasn't been deemed a threat at the moment.
"You know how to use that thing?" Daryl gestured to the knife on Brady's hand which she had also lowered.
"Yes," Brady said curtly gripping the handle a little tighter. It didn't go noticed by Daryl, she was wise not to let her guard entirely down.
Before they could exchange any more words. A little boy appeared about 8 years old, curious about the newcomer.
He wasn't quite passed the rough-looking man but the kid was getting close.
"Hi, I'm Carl". Brady couldn't help but notice the innocence in Carl's eyes and the way he was genuinely interested in getting to know her.
What Brady presumed to be the mother quickly scolded the boy, but another man wearing a cowboy hat gently intervened, giving the boy a pointed look. He approached the new girl with a small kind smile.
Despite the tension with redneck looking man ensuring, seeing the children in the group helped Brady feel a bit more at ease. She always did like kids and they had to be trustworthy with children around. Right?
As they talked to her, she learned the man in the hat's name, she found herself opening up a bit more letting her guard down, sharing a little about her background, that she was a 3rd-year university student flying from a trip to Bolivia. She had a layover in Georgia where she was supposed to meet up with her dad to do a little father-daughter camping bonding trip before going all the way home to Canada. She was surprised at how much Rick reminded her of her dad, and it gave her a sense of comfort that she hadn't felt in weeks. And seeing the way Carl looked up to Rick, Brady knew that she could trust him to lead the group, and hoped they'd help her find her dad.
That seemed so long ago now. Brady couldn't help but a small smile as she thought back to how much had changed since her first encounter with Daryl. It seemed like a different lifetime. At first, he had been so untrusting of her, but eventually, they both let their guard down and began to work together.
As she reminisced, she remembered how she had gradually gained the trust of the group. At first, she had been an outsider, someone who they viewed with suspicion and wariness. But as time went on, she proved herself to be a valuable member of the team. She pitched in with extra chores, helped out with the kids, and showed that she knew how to handle herself in dangerous situations.
She'd first warmed up to Sophia and Carl, then Glen and Rick. And as time went on Daryl came around too. They had started to work together on many scavenging missions, and over time, they had developed a deep bond. He became her mentor, teaching her how to track and hunt, and she became reliable support for hunting. She may have been very talkative once she warmed up to the group, but she knew how to shut it when they were out in the open, unlike Andrea.
Brady's heartbeat spiked as she heard people rummaging downstairs taking her out of her thoughts. She'd let her guard down, lost in thought. Man, she really needed to get her shit together. At this rate, she'd be dead by tomorrow. Fuck, I didn't even get the chance to look for fresh closed or a bag, Brady thought indignantly.
Brady went to look out the window, taking in the surroundings. The sky was a hazy gray. The trees were barren, stripped of leaves and branches. The only sound was the rustling of the wind through the trees. As she watched, two men came into view. They were rough-looking, with greasy hair and scraggly beards. Their clothes were torn and dirty, and they were armed with guns. They scanned the area, searching for any signs of life, living or dead.
She knew she had to be careful. New people were dangerous, she'd learned that the hard way a time or two after meeting up with Rick's group. She took a deep breath and crouched down, moving away from the window. Knowing that being caught was not an option, she listened intently by the door to gauge the number of people downstairs. She heard the shuffling of feet and the sound of indistinct murmurs. She couldnèt tell how many there were. Brady's heart raced as she weighed her options. Going out the window wasn't viable, and she had to think quickly.
She made sure her two hunting knives were at her hips, then tried to be as quiet as possible moving the dresser she put in front of the door. It scraped and creaked lightly. Paused, it didn't seem like they had heard. She didn't want to risk being found and was hoping to sneak out quietly. She would fight if she had to but her physical strength still wasn't up to par.
She made her way through the door, one knife at the ready. She could hear the men talking downstairs, their voices gruff and low. She counted three sets of voices. Honestly, they were kind of noisy and kept yelling the word, "Claimed!" What were they claiming? She wondered but not giving it too much thought. Quickly, she retreated to another room as they decided to inspect the upstairs, it happened to be a toddler's room. Carefully, she closed the door behind her so as to not be heard. The room was a stark contrast to the chaos and destruction outside - it was untouched and solemn, like a time capsule of a life that had been abruptly cut short. The pastel walls were adorned with baby animals and toys, and the furniture was pint-sized, perfectly suited for a small child. The room was eary, except for the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet. Frick, this house is old, I have to be lighter on my feet.
As she hid in the closet, Brady couldn't help but notice the callousness of these 'claimers' as they entered the room. They didn't seem to care about the precious memories and personal belongings that surrounded them. They kicked toys out of their way, rifled through drawers, and flung clothes around the room with reckless abandon. It was clear that they were scavenging for any provisions they could find, and they wouldn't let sentimentality or decency stand in their way.
Brady held her breath and listened intently as they kept rummaging about. Brady couldn't believe how callous and indifferent they were, and the thought of what they might do to her if they found her sent shivers down her spine.
She waited in the closet, holding her breath and listening intently to the sound of the Claimers' footsteps retreating. She heard them talking as they exited the house, their voices low and gruff.
"Man, this house is shit," said one of the men. "I can't believe we wasted our time coming here."
"It's empty, too," said another. "Looks like someone already took everything worth taking."
"The whole town is empty, why'd Joe even make us come here?" The first man complained.
As the voices dissipated, Brady let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Now was her chance to get out. She snuck down the stair and towards the backdoor. Brady took a deep breath, slowly turned the doorknob, and eased her way out the door. Of course, the door wouldn't creak, she thought sardonically. Being cautious, she made her way through the overgrown weeds and tall grass of the backyard with a tall fence. She was on high alert for the men that were just there.
She was already feeling exhausted and the day had barely begun. All she knew is she had to go the opposite way of those guys and find sustenance fast. She was being as diligent as she could but she still wasn't prepared for two walkers to be on the other side of the fence.
She stumbled backward in surprise, letting out a small squeak, its decaying face twisted into a grotesque snarl. She acted quickly though and stuck her knife through its head. Blood splattered on her already very tattered clothes. As she stood up to get the second walker she heard the sound of the claimers' laughter coming from behind her.
"I knew I'd heard something in that house, didn't expect it to be a nice piece of ass." one of the men chuckled as he watched the second walker lurch towards her, clearly amused by her predicament. Another man from behind the one who was just speaking moved forward and lodged his own knife into the walker that was coming for her.
"Claimed!"He said loudly looking her dead in the eyes, roughly grabbing her by the arm. She froze, her stomach felt like it dropped out of her body. What the fuck! He was in her personal bubble. He stood tall with broad shoulders and a lean frame, looming over those around him. His face was rugged and lined as if he had spent many years under the harsh sun. His deep-set eyes were cold and uninviting, scanning his surroundings with a critical gaze. His jaw was set in a perpetual scowl, giving him an air of hostility and disdain. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and curt, as if he didn't have the time or patience for anything or anyone. All in all, he seemed like someone who would be best avoided, as his demeanor exuded nothing but unfriendliness and hostility. Man, if she thought Daryl was scary when they first met this man was tenfold.
"Oh come on Laz! I saw her first she should be mine!" The original man whined.
'Laz' took a step back from her still holding her arm enough to bruise it. "You know the rules Reg." Laz left no room for argument.
As reality slowly came to Brady she flipped out.
"Claimed?! Claimed! I am not a property you can fucking own!" She struggle instantly going for her second knife since at some point she managed to drop her other one. He was quick to stop her and easily overpowered her. She kept trying to pull her arm out of his grasp but he was much too strong. Snatching the knife out of her hand and throwing it aside. Brady keeps struggling, at one point even going to knee him in the balls, but it's no use. Laz is too strong and too menacing.
He leans in close to her, his breath hot and foul on her face. "You're mine now, little girl," he sneers, his eyes glittering with twisted glee. "You belong to me, and I don't take kindly to those who try to run." She froze again, heat rising to her head as fear washed over her. She was stupid, so, so stupid. She should have waited them out longer and not tried to get by them. It was a wonder who she was still alive, but then again this was her first time truly on her since the beginning of everything. She had realized she'd relied on her group too much. She relied on Daryl too much to play protective older brothers in situations like this.
Fuck it! She thought with one last attempt at escaping. This time she managed to successfully knee Laz in the balls hard enough that he let go and she booked it.
Breathless, Brady ran as fast as she could, hearing Laz's angry shouts behind her. She darted around the corner of the house, only to come face to face with more of the claimers. They laughed at her futile attempt to escape.
"Where do you think you're going, little bitch?" said one of the men, one she had to encounter, leering at her.
Brady's heart sank as she realized she was outnumbered and outmatched. Five to one. Not great odds. She went to pull out her knife but they were both gone. Fuck me. She went running different direction consequences be damned, she could not be taken by the creeps. However, before she made it even five feet Laz caught up and yanked her harshly by the hair, causing her to scream out in pain.
As Laz dragged Brady by the hair, she felt disoriented and dizzy, the world spinning around her. She struggled to get her bearings, but the pain in her scalp was excruciating, making it hard to focus. Her vision blurred, and she stumbled, but Laz didn't let go, dragging her further away from the house to God knows where.
Brady's mind was racing, trying to come up with another last-ditch attempt plan to escape, but she couldn't, the pain in her head made it hard to concentrate.
As Laz threw her to the ground, Brady's head spun, and she struggled to sit up, her hair tangled and matted with blood. She looked up at Laz, her eyes wide with fear, as he put a bag over her head and tied her hands behind her back. Walkers she could handle, humans.. humans she was beginning to hate. And she'd lost her glasses. Slumping her shoulders in defeat, Laz carried her over his shoulder, the Claimers were going back to their make-shift camp for the past couple of nights.