alive
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every
day's such
a task when this
world's such
a mess
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The radio has stopped working long time ago, and the ride is so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
Neither of the three utters a single word about the situation they're in, and though Billie has the urge to ask her older brother what on earth they're going to do, no words come out from her mouth. She stays silent, probably because she's afraid of receiving an 'I have no idea' for an answer.
"…Dad's dead?" Charles suddenly asks, his soft voice interrupting an overwhelming silence that has lasted for hours.
Francis tries to ignore his little brother, he really does, but the slight concern he senses on the little boy's flimsy voice makes his grip on the wheel tighten to the point his knuckles turn a pale shade of white.
Billie gives him a look, a look that silently orders him to remain silent, and so he does. He presses his lips into a thin line and focuses on the road, forcefully swallowing every single insult he was about to spit.
"Dunno, Charlie…" Billie sighs, "Maybe… Maybe not."
"Ok." Charles is still a little child, ingenuous, innocent and irreproachable, but the heavy atmosphere that suddenly builds up doesn't pass unnoticed by his naïve eyes. "I'm sorry…" he apologizes timidly, his eyes downcast and avoiding his siblings' gloomy gazes.
Silence seems to make time go slower, and the road trip towards Atlanta starts to feel endless.
As expected, they aren't the only ones heading to the safety of the big city, and soon the siblings find themselves caught in the middle of a massive traffic jam on the highways.
"Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me…?" Francis protests in annoyance, "The hell's wrong with these people? There shouldn't be a fuckin' traffic jam in the end of the world!"
Billie notices people standing outside their cars, and she decides she needs to stretch her limbs out. Stepping out of the vehicle, she almost starts panicking when she finds nothing in the pockets of her jeans.
"Got a smoke, Frank?" she asks her brother, who takes his own pack out and holds it towards her through the rolled-down window of the car. She stares at it for a second. "No menthols?"
"Nah… Ain't a wimp like you," Francis taunts, earning himself a glare from his sister.
Billie snatches one of the cancer sticks, places it between her lips and lights it, hoping it would soothe her unbearable nerves. Leaning against the car, she smokes as her bored eyes follow the helicopters flying through the starry night sky. "Hey… Atlanta's not that far," she comments, "Can see it from here."
"For real?" Francis steps out of the vehicle, followed by his curious little brother. He gazes at the distant city ahead, and a jolly grin immediately takes over his usually surly features.
There are countless people around him expecting a spot in the refugee centers awaiting for them ahead, but he can't care less; he would definitely make sure his beloved siblings made it to safety.
Then suddenly, the city, their safety, their last chance — they watch it disappear right in front of their eyes.
Flashes of light blind them for a moment, and people scream in panic as hell breaks loose kilometers ahead. Buildings, skyscrapers, stadiums, even the supposed refugee centre, everything gets engulfed in fire as helicopters drop napalm in the streets, destroying the entire metropolis along with humanity's hopes of surviving.
Francis is engrossed in the chaotic havoc when his brother's soft cries make him snap out of his trance. He picks the scared child up and hugs him tightly, his eyes still glued to the mayhem taking place ahead.
"Don't worry, Charlie," he whispers white lies to his sobbing brother, "Everything's gonna be okay."
Francis notices that Charles isn't the only one panicking; Billie is there, too, watching their last hope being taken away from them with eyes that threat to spill tears. He reminds her that he's still there by taking her trembling hand on his, but she doesn't look up. Her face is embarrassingly damp right now, and she doesn't want him to see.
"We'll be just fine…" Francis tells them, "Trust me."
Except they weren't, and all she has left of them are vague memories.
Billie knows there's no use in dwelling in the past, so she tries to forget, to bury her dead brothers on the back of her mind. She tries and tries but she just can't, because their grins, their eyes, their voices — every single detail about them is ingrained into her memory.
Her family, tiny and broken, was precious to her. Yet, she lost them.
Her brothers are dead, and so is her will to keep going.
Billie snaps out of her trance when a soft voice rings in her ears. "Bill?"
She looks up, only to see Amy standing in front of her with concern on those dreamy blue eyes of hers. Her espadrilles are muddy, and her pastel-colored clothes are stained in dirt. The red, plastic tray in the blonde's grubby hands reminds her forgotten dinner tasks.
"You alright?" Amy asks, worried.
Billie gives herself a little shake. "Yeah, yeah…" she replies, "I was just, y'know… spacin' out."
Amy chuckles. "You're always spacin' out," she smiles, sitting beside her.
It's true, Billie does space out, her mind lost in vivid memories of her not so merry life before the apocalypse. She can't help missing it, the unconditional company of her brothers. Without it, she feels dolefully lonely, even if people surround her.
Billie smiles back, weak and somewhat forced. "Managed to find some 'shrooms?"
"Yeah…" Amy says, showing her the brown mushrooms inside the tray, "Can't tell if they're poison, though…"
"Show 'em to Lori," Billie suggests, "I mean, she's the one who asked for 'shrooms… She must know somethin', right?"
"Already did," Amy says, "She said she'd ask Shane when he gets back."
Billie's eyes scan the entire camp.
Carl is alone in the distance, playing with toys without supervision whatsoever. Nearby is Carol, sitting behind her young daughter as she gently brushes her soft, blonde hair. Dale is on top of the RV as usual, looking around the area through his binoculars as he sits under the shadow of his stripped umbrella. Jim and Morales are chopping wood for fire, while the latter's wife is doing laundry as children blissfully play around her.
There are absolutely no signs of Shane or Lori, and it isn't the first time the couple vanishes in thin air.
Billie is about to make a witty remark about the couple when she notices a gloomy air about the blonde girl next to her.
"Amy?" she asks, "You okay?"
"Yeah, just…" Amy trails off, "You think Andrea's gonna be okay?"
Andrea has been gone for a few hours now. She volunteered to go in a run despite her younger sister pleaded her not to, and she has yet to come back from the death trap that is Atlanta.
The living corpses that now reside in the ghost metropolis are deadly, milky eyes filled with hunger and rotten teeth ready to tear flesh. They are violently murderous, blood-thirsty creatures she's seen kill with her own eyes before, and to tell the truth, she doubts the group stands a chance against them.
She can't bring herself to tell Amy such a thing, though. Not when her beloved older sister is part of a that group.
Billie doesn't look at the blonde in the eye. "Yeah…" she says, half-heartedly, "She's… she's gonna be just fine."
Biting her lower lip, she hopes her words aren't lies.
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"She volunteered to go… to help the rest of us!" Amy exclaims in indignation.
"I know, and she knew the risks, right? See, if she's trapped… she's gone…" Shane tells the blonde, seemingly expecting her to simply accept her older sister's ill fate, "So we just have to deal with that. There's nothing we can do."
Amy stares at him, unnerved at his cold words. "She's my sister, you son of a bitch." She turns on her heel and runs away, followed by a reluctant Lori.
Billie considers going too. In the end, though, she chooses to stay where she is, because though she knows exactly what the blonde is going through, she's still unable to comfort others. After all, the sudden loss of her family is something she has yet to overcome herself.
The chilly wind howls and a thunder roars in the sky, a lighting suddenly flashing through the stormy darkness. Billie likes days like this one, days in which the sea above her head is painted in a dull shade of gray. Today, though, she feels dispirited, dearly missing the warm solace of the sunlight.
Sad to the bone, she stares up at the upcoming storm, her eyes glassy and empty. The sky threatens to cry, but she swore to herself she won't allow herself to.
Not that she can anyway. She already ran out of tears.
Death is bizarrely playful, and she wonders how many people are going to die today. Glenn, T-Dog, Andrea, Merle, Morales, Jacqui — maybe even Daryl.
For a second, the younger Dixon lingers in her mind.
Daryl Dixon. The younger one out of two brothers. A tough, yet seemingly nice redneck. Such an enigmatic man in her opinion.
Billie doesn't know much about him yet. All she knows is that he saved her life, picked her ravished body from the cold ground and carried her to safety without expecting anything back. She also knows that behind that unfriendly look he usually wears across his face, he seems to hide a peculiar soft heart.
She noted that he doesn't interact much with others, always following Merle around like a shadow and doing as he says. Still, unlike his brother, he seems to care about people. After all, he diligently goes hunting and shares his kills with the rest of the camp.
Daryl seems like a nice person, she thinks.
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Much to her surprise, the group returned safe and sound from the mortal city. Euphoria fills the air as families reunite in front of her, and a slight feeling of envy rises within her, which quickly turns into bitter sadness.
Her chest hurts when she spots Carl in the distance, struggling not to break as his mother comforts him as best as she can. His father is dead, she remembers he said, and she knows how tough it is for him to watch Morales wrapping his arms around his ecstatic children.
His family is broken; she knows exactly how he feels.
She knows, because the wounds on her heart rip open as she watches Amy and Andrea hugging each other with tears on their eyes.
Suddenly, her damp eyes find an unknown face stepping out the truck. Cop uniform, dark hair and a pair of incredibly blue eyes, the mysterious man walks towards the group with skeptical steps, and his face lights up the instant he sees a certain woman and a certain boy.
"Dad!" Carl cries in joy, running towards him as his mother follows him behind.
Billie feels as though she has witnessed a miracle.
She watches the family through watery eyes, lips curved in a small smile that hides the tornado of emotions inside of her.
Despite the acidic jealousy that burns her insides, she's honestly happy that the group came back safe and sound. At the same time, though, she can't help wondering why lady luck and lord fate seem to despise her. Families around her are merrilly together, but hers — hers was ripped apart beyond repair.
Between tears, she notices an absence that makes her teary eyes widen.
Merle is nowhere to be seen.
He's gone.
Daryl's only family is gone.
Tears finally slide down her cheeks, and she realizes that maybe, just maybe, her family isn't the only one that is broken.
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a/n:
thank you so much for the nice feedback
it means the world to me really!