Fandom TWD Season 2 Episode 1: All That's Left

[SuperChocoMilk]

We got comfortable.


Okay?


We got comfortable.


We lost a few of our group.


But we got comfortable.


Six months into the apocalypse, me and my daughter found a place called Crawford. We stayed there, with a few others for a while.


Nothing lasts forever.


Under the cruel rule of the dictator, Oberson Crawford, the community was absolutely destroyed. It was catastrophic. Me and a few others escaped, eventually finding ourselves in the town of Wickford, where we were held hostage for six months by a dangerous group called the Blood Dragons. They forced us to build a community there, shooting all who approached the walls. We were actually happy, despite the circumstances.


Nothing lasts forever.


The Blood Dragons found themselves under new leadership, destroying our town and capturing most of us. We were subject to torture, until some of the escapees came back with some new friends to kill them. We escaped, finding ourselves at a nice place called The Root. We were safe.


Nothing lasts forever.


We were all split up, as tensions rose and our group grew two new leaders. Or, dictators, honestly. We all tried to get away, we did, my group headed for a bunker, mostly against our wishes, and another headed for the city of Charlotte. The bunker was filled to the brim with walkers, and we ended up in the same town. This is the last entry I'm writing for now, hopefully we find what we were looking for.


On the next page the writing is scrawled, as if a child was writing.


I'm writing this in my father's journal. He's dead. I killed him. He got shot, and I couldn't let him turn.


To anyone who find this journal that I left in the cabin, whoever finds the rotting corpses, please, bury the man in the blue hoodie. The other you can burn. If you find this journal here, please do that for me. And don't head into Charlotte. It's dangerous. It's filled with walkers. You might find a lot of my friends there. I hope I find the survivors out there. Although part of me wishes I don't.


Nothing lasts forever.

 

[ClassicDukeHat]

Rain was falling.


Drip. Drip. Drip.


It was soothing, the little droplets having moonlight gleaming off of the water.


The twelve year old girl, the one with the pale face, the black hair dressed up in a ponytail, not exactly a neat ponytail, but it was a ponytail. A hat covered her hair, the ponytail sticking out from the back, as you may guess. A few gray freckles dotted her face, three on each dimple, and her clothing was no less than a pink hoodie with a happy sun and jeans. Her eyes were narrowed and contorted into a glare.


She stepped past the puddle, her sneaker sinking into the soft mud, being covered in more of the brown, gooey mess. The rain was beginning to soak through her hat, coating her hair in water, but the bill shielded her face from the drops of soakage. The Hispanic man in the hoodie beside her, his hood atop his head, and a rifle in his hand.


"You ready?"


A voice bellowed from his mouth, his head turning but his face unseen due to a white mask covering his features, just a plain white mask, a circle with eye slots and a mouth hole cut out in it.


The girl took a small can from the man, a thick, red substance inside of it. She set it on the ground, then reached into the man's backpack strapped across his, well, back. She pulled out a white mask, similar to the man's except for a few minor details such as size. The masks were handcrafted with wood and plastic, a sharp Bowie Knife being used to cut the holes in it. She threw her father's hat into the mud, and strapped on the mask. She then dipped two fingers on both hands into the red liquid, painting two pairs of stripes down the mask's cheeks.


"Yes."


***


A FEW MONTHS BEFORE


"Happy birthday."


Oh, the sweet serenade of the others telling her "happy birthday." Or, well, just Sam. Yes, it was little Cynthia's birthday. A present was held out to her, tucked quite tightly in Sam's rough hands. "Everybody pitched in to find you something. Here."


One warectangle, wrapped up in a newspaper, and seemed to be large. It was becoming increasingly obvious from the lines and the creases in the wrapping that the present was a book.


The present was a book, as expected, and on the front cover were the words Animal Farm and 1984. "It's two books in one. Hope you enjoy it. Know you like reading."


Sam walked off, leaving the girl to her new birthday presents. She stepped inside the room, the room being the auto technician class, respectfully. She put the book on the table, and sat down. She pressed her hand on the cover...but she did not open it. Perhaps later. She picked it up and stuffed it in her backpack, walking away from the room and into the glaring sunlight. Now, I know what you're thinking. Shouldn't she be devoured by walkers if she went out there? It was surrounded completely by the living dead.


And normally, she would be, but in this back area, or the shop area, auto-tech area, and engineering station, was a rusty chain link fence surrounding the area, coupled with quite a few broken cars, planks of wood and other assorted goodies from the previous residents. She looked around the yard, hopefully for someone to talk to. They...didn't talk much anymore. Not after a few arguments, the school kids, and of course, Charlotte. Cynthia rubbed the scar on her left cheek, picking the nasty scab that a flying bullet had left on her soft face. She had since then heard "scars are cool," but she did not think it was, as you may guess. She could almost visualize the gunfire, the bullet brushing through her, almost taking off her ear. It had hurt like crazy, she remembered, but at least it hadn't killed her.


She noticed that most of the group was outside, either sitting on the pavement or discussing something with each other. Cynthia's eyes gazed towards the long, sharp, metal pole that was caked in dried blood. It had been used to kill the walkers on the fence, but right now it lay ominously. She stepped up to it and put her white hands under it, pulling up. She was able to lift it up, but not above her head to kill the walker in front of her. Cynthia dropped the pole on to the ground after realizing that it was useless to try, and turned away heading back to the school. She didn't want to talk to anybody, and nobody wanted to talk to her. Or anyone else. She sighed. Maybe she should start on that book...


She sat down on the pavement and began reading.


"Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring."


"As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a fluttering all through the farm buildings. Word had gone round during the day that old Major, the prize Middle White boar, had had a strange dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the other animals. It had been agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as soon as Mr. Jones was safely out of the way. Old Major (so he was always called, though the name under which he had been exhibited was Willingdon Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone was quite ready to lose an hour's sleep in order to hear what he had to say."


Cynthia closed the book, tired already. This book seemed kind of silly, with talking animals and whatnot, but it was considered a classic so maybe she'd find some joy out of it. Sure, she was interested in what Old Major had to say, sure, she was interested in what conflict would arise in the book, but reading just didn't seem to be as fun as it used to be. Her fingers drummed across the hardcover, and her brown eyes darted back and forth. Opening the book again, she read the next paragraph.


"At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised platform, Major was already ensconced on his bed of straw, under a lantern which hung from a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather stout, but he was still a majestic-looking pig, with a wise and benevolent appearance in spite of the fact that his tushes had never been cut. Before long the other animals began to arrive and make themselves comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three dogs, Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the straw immediately in front of the platform. The hens perched themselves on the window-sills, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, the sheep and cows lay down behind the pigs and began to chew the cud. The two cart-horses, Boxer and Clover, came in together, walking very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care lest there should be some small animal concealed in the straw. Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. Boxer was an enormous beast, nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary horses put together. A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he was universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and Benjamin, the donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and when he did, it was usually to make some cynical remark–for instance, he would say that God had given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would sooner have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the animals on the farm he never laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer; the two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the small paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and never speaking."


Oh boy.

 

[Castello]

Dean and Yumi


The truck skidded past the rain like a boat over water. Dean and Yumi had no idea how long the showers had been going on, their senses had been dulled by the lack of sleep. Walker after walker, bandit after bandit, they had not experienced peace for god knows how long. However they were successful in trading away a couple of supplies for food and ammo, even some arrows for Yumi. But other than that, the good was decimated by the bad.


Dean laid in front of the wheel struggling to keep his eyes from shutting and Yumi, like usual, was toughing through the situation. She was kind of like the co-pilot, if Dean fell into slumber, she'd do something harsh like slap him with a close fist. It bothered Dean on how Yumi approached everything with violence, but in some ways it was awfully comforting knowing that there was someone there to protect him, and cover his blind spots. The pair had been together for some time now, they've been through thick and thin and toughed out every moment of it. Bloodied or unscathed.


About another hour passed and the truck had begun to approach a civilization of some kind. It seemed to be surrounded by mountains and was quite industrial looking, but yet, Dean could not exactly pin-point where they were exactly.


"Hey Yumi..." Dean asked tiredly.





"Hm, what is it Dean?" Yumi responded as if the fatigue didn't affect her what so ever.





"Can you check the map? I have no bloody clue where we are..." Dean added and continued to focus on the wheel of the big, red truck they had found in Savannah.





Yumi nodded accordingly and rummaged through the piles of paper in the cabinet of the car. There were tons of recites and even some photo's of a farm. It was obvious that this truck was owned by someone who loved the outdoors and of course farming. Hell there were even vegetable and fruit seeds in the back, the man or woman probably had plans to settle down in the south, whether they were still alive or not though, remained a mystery to the two. But they assumed the worse.


"I think this is... Asheville." Yumi brought up, struggling with the pronunciation of the name of the town. Her English was much better, but it still lacked finesse and accuracy. But she was slowly getter there, Dean was happy he could actually help someone with something he learnt from school.


"Ashville." Dean whispered to himself, the name was familiar, but he couldn't guess the state it was from. But then it came back to him. His Uncle and Mother were from here, it was a city in North Carolina, which came off to a surprise to him. It felt like just yesterday that they were struggling with bandits in South Carolina, but now they were many kilometers away.





Funny how time can get to you.


The pair approached the town cautiously, often walkers crawled over the road and cars were scattered about, harmful like Rocks in the ocean. Checking for any sign of people is usually the first thing they did, looking for people who wanted to trade, or had stuff they could use that they did not need. They were still above stealing however, they were much better off than most in this hellish world, but still, their life was far from luxury.


They shortly made it to the downtown area, encountering just a couple of zombies. However once they began to drive across a desolate Mall, Dean was stopped by Yumi.


"Stop Dean." Yumi interrupted quietly and light pressed her hand over his fore arm.





"Hm? You want to go clothes shopping? Hey maybe the star bucks is open in there, that's what you girls like, right?" Dean facetiously jested.





"I do not know what this 'Star Bucks' is, but it sounds like a strange bank. But that is aside the point, look closer, barricades, there might be people." Yumi pointed out seriously.


"Hey you're right, wanna check it out?" Dean inquired followed by Yumi's nod. She always preferred gestures to words when ever she could.





The two exited the car, armed and prepared for a zombie quarrel at any moment. Dean made sure to bring his big backpack if he did indeed, need to do some exchanging.

 

[travelbypages]

Billie stood behind the gates, the gates that were helping her have a future, the gates that helped everyone have a future. But it was not the future she wanted. She missed the killing, the fighting. Now all she was doing was resting.


She had been in the community for a little over two weeks, and she couldn't say she hated it, the warm showers, shampoo and soap, and food were glorious. But she missed fending for herself, she hate the fact that she felt pampered, after two years.


Billie closed her eyes tightly and let the cold rain pour on her, what if she asked to go scouting?

 

[GalaxyGirl]

EVELYN

​

One year.


That was how long ago Charlotte had laid waste to the group.


A whole year since Evelyn had joined the group.


A year since she hadn't felt exhausted.


Unfortunately, time to rest was rare, even since they had stumbled upon the old school. The constant threat of Walkers had seemed to tug Evelyn awake at night and thoughts of the past didn't help either. She knew there were too many ghosts in the group, and even though Evelyn hadn't known those who were lost in Charlotte, she felt their presence in the actions of the others.


Evelyn had her own ghosts haunting her too, but she preferred to let them go. Instead, she busied herself with tending to the others. She was far from a leader of any sort, but instead she thought of herself as a caring older sister.


A sharp knife cut through her thoughts, though, as she realized just what a failure of a sister she actually was, but she was quick to banish the thought before it could consume her again. Evelyn had promised to never be wrought with guilt again. The apocalypse was not her fault. She could still help people. The Walkers would not claim her humanity.


Her eyes slid over to watch as Cynthia joined the group on the pavement. She was carrying the books they had gotten her--though the work had really been done by Sam--and Evelyn thought the girl seemed a bit uncertain as the child picked up the Walker-poker and tried to lift it up. It seemed too heavy, though, and the girl gave up.


Evelyn trained her gaze to the Walker, then, and grimaced. Part of her pitied the creatures. With no cognitive abilities, they weren't really responsible for their actions. She supposed that's why part of her felt bad that they had to kill the ones outside the fence.


She wasn't stupid. She knew they could be a danger later--but for now they were harmless. It was like kicking a puppy. A decaying, rotten, vicious puppy. The imagery was disturbing.


With a motion that became habit for the girl, Evelyn wrapped her wild hair into her scarf before she pushed herself off of the pavement. Just sitting there was doing her no good. She was dwelling on things that she shouldn't dwell on. She needed to find something--or someone--to focus her energy on, and she decided that maybe she would try her luck with the girl.


Evelyn didn't talk to her much. She never wanted to press the poor thing, especially after her father died, and she seemed to be doing okay since she had Beckett; but Evelyn hadn't wished her happy birthday yet.


"Hey," Evelyn said as she came up next to Cynthia. She plopped down beside her before the small child could grant her any permission. At first Evelyn regretted the decision to socialize--Cynthia probably wanted to be left alone--but she decided to press onward. A valiant knight on a quest! "Are you alright?"


---

ASHER

​

The walls were getting boring.


Even though those same mall walls were the ones that protected Asher and the others, he couldn't help but feel like they were robbing him of something, too. He knew what lay beyond them--death and Walkers--but still he felt a gnawing of discontent. With a sigh, he hiked his sniper-rifle over his shoulder and made his way to the ladder.


From the roof of the mall, he could survey across most of the town of Asheville. It was an okay town, he thought. It seemed pretty desolate now, but he had been told by his elders that in its prime, Asheville was a pretty spectacular place. Asher had no idea if they were lying to make it sound better or not.


He was from a small mountain town called Weaverville, north of Asheville. Before the apocalypse took away his parents, anyway. Luckily, Asheville didn't take too long to find and a man named Noah took him in. Taught him everything he knew.


As Asher stepped up onto the roof, he noticed that several of the other community men were there. Most of which he had been on scouting missions with. Unfortunately out of the bunch, Asher was the youngest, so he got picked on a lot.


"Ay! Dasher!" one of the men--a rough one named Corbin yelled.


Asher frowned. They called him Dasher still after years. "Not gonna let that go, I see," Asher mumbled.


Corbin laughed. "Must we relive the story?"


The other men chortled at him, but Asher just flipped Corbin off. "I was 11 and I ran from Walkers. Real funny. When you were 11 you probably still cried if you skinned your knee."


"You little shit," Corbin just laughed at him, waving him away. "When you're ready to fight me for real, you know where to find me."


Corbin was joking, of course, being three times Asher's size and acting more like an older brother than an enemy. That didn't stop Asher from getting the last quip in, though. "Yeah, I know where to find you. With your head up your ass as always."


Asher moved from the laughing men, then, making his way to the edge of the roof. He peered over the edge just in time to see an old pick up truck approaching the mall.


Unslinging the sniper from his shoulder, Asher aimed down the sight, settling the scope on the driver and passenger. They had guns, and for a moment Asher thought about taking them out--newbies meant less food for everyone else--but knew that would only get him into trouble with the leader. And that man was someone that Asher didn't want to cross.


"Hey, guys!" he called back to the other men. "Looks like fresh meat!"

 

[Macaberz]

It was the worst feeling in the world. Locked up, disarmed, foreign eyes trying to gauge your worth. In the outside world, he was someone. Not a leader yet, but more than a petty survivor amidst dozens, more than just another brick in the wall. If it hadn't been for the girls, he wouldn't have come to this place, not even if John insisted. He didn't trust these people. They had a system, and in this brave new world, systems always collapsed.


Beckett still needed him though, he couldn't leave her. Probably still looked up to him like how he had looked up to John once. Cynthia on the other hand...she was a real piece of work; a good shot, capable of holding her own and blessed with a sweet, charming smile. He enjoyed watching her from a distance, she had matured in mind and body alike. More than once he'd been on the verge of making advances, but then he would avert his gaze, stuff his hands in his pockets and whistle an innocent tune instead. Even with the world in complete disarray, he still felt it would be wrong for him to approach her. He knew it was silly how he scarcely feared walkers anymore but couldn't muster the courage to talk with her. His only excuse was that she seemed to prefer to be alone anyway. No wonder. She had zipped cold lead through her father's head. Bang, just like that. Truly, her apparent indifference was scary at times and in his mind it wasn't all that unlikely she would murder him if he made a misstep.


Sighing, he scanned his surroundings. Grungy, rickety fences boxed them in. Watchful, unwelcoming eyes restrained them and the urge to stand up and do something became almost impossible to resist. Again his eyes fell on Cynthia. It was her birthday and he'd wanted to give her something extra, his pocket knife perhaps. But every time he vowed to give it to her, someone either showed up and stole her attention or she would slouch away herself.


Sighing, he headed back inside, his heart skipping a step as he moved past Cee and Evelyn. Banishing the scarred girl from his thoughts, he pressed forward to find Aylaela and Sam. The two were probably snogging somewhere in the corner but at least they'd shown him some degree of respect when he'd refused to attend stupid school. It was pointless, he'd learnt enough and it was about time he was given some more power.


"Howdy," he would grumble once he would find the two lovebirds, or just one of the two. Hands resting on his hips he would scan their faces to asses their mood. Not that it mattered, anybody's mood was either gloomy or very gloomy. "I don't know about you, but this place irks me," he would glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping on them. "We should be on the move, not sitting here like ducks." Picking his grubby fingernails he would keep his gaze trained on the ground. "The blood dragons happened because we thought we were safe, Charlotte happened because we tried to hide." Listening to the oppressive silence, Evan would soon continue, "it's like everytime we think ourselves safe, something bad happens and one day, we won't survive...We should move, don't you think?"

 

[ClassicDukeHat]

Nicholas Wayne Garret


A brown desk, a dim light, and a stack of papers sat in front of Nicholas. His head was drenched in sweat, his eyes shifting back and forth across the papers. What was he doing? The apocalypse had begun not so long ago, and here he was, still doing paperwork. Some things never change. He had been staring at these papers for so many hours, just staring at them. While his hands may not have shown it, his mind was on fire, and these papers had been the kindling.


Written on the pages were documents of how many supplies they had, how many vehicles they had, how happy were the people, how secure were the walls, and of course, how many people had died. It was a high number, concerning all of them. And now Nicholas's mind was distraught, as it began to race for ways to make people happy, to reduce the amount of deaths, to get more food, to get more people, to protect those people.


Being a leader could drive a man mad with insanity.


But not Nicholas. He was a fighter, a survivor. He had to protect his son. Inside these walls were his family now. These people were is people, and they looked up to him. He was the leader. The governor, if you're silly like that. But he wasn't called by some defacto name like others, he wasn't The Leader, Master, or anything else. It would be demeaning to him if he were called by those. No, everyone knew him as either Nicholas Wayne Garret or dad.


He began counting how many people had died on his fingers. Danielle, Harry, James, Terry, Sasha, Travis...


6.


6 had died.


Nicholas suddenly looked up as the door to his office suddenly opened, and in walked a Hispanic man with metal piercings striking through his lip, his ear, and a tiny unnoticeable hole in his tongue, which Nicholas (and everyone else) had requested removed. "Hey Carlos, what do you need?" Nicholas calmly asked, looking up at the man, not down. Carlos looked down at Nicholas in that same "don't give a crap" attitude he always had around him, and answered.


"Yo, I was thinking...We lost a few guys, a few of my friends, Harry, James, Terry, Danielle..." Carlos's voice faltered for a second and he trailed off, the mentioning of the last name obviously making him feel a little more than sad. He eventually turned his attention back to Nicholas who was still patiently waiting. "I was thinking we need to go look for some more survivors. We need all the manpower we can get, remember that horde that we saw coming down? And the..."


This time Nicholas's eyes showed a hint of annoyance, anger even. "The what?"


"Nevermind."


"I don't want to even think about them, Carlos. I know they're out there, plotting. I know what they do. What they eat. When they come back and attack us, we'll crush them. A beetle under a shoe. Go and gather a team. You can go and find some new survivors."


Carlos walked out, and Nicholas resumed his work.


Carlos


Carlos came stepping out from Nicholas's office, a little shaky, but he still kept his calm and natural nature. Hiding the scaredness in him and headed out. First off, he grabbed Billie, telling her to head on over to the area where they had recently built the new garage out of old scrap metal and wood. They housed everything in there, from their four-wheelers to their jeeps they found in the woods, it was truly magnificent. Of course, during the supply runs for survivors, they would bring the jeeps, as you may imagine. The next two he grabbed were James and Careena. He sent them on their merry way, and guessing this was a good group to take, he jumped in the jeep with them and sped off.





@Kawashima Thunder


@Stew


Jack


Jack stood at the top of the gates, looking down at the red truck that had just pulled up to the front of the mall. Asher, as he refused to call the boy Dasher, stood right beside him. Jack did a small take over to the red-haired boy, then up to Corbin and a few of the other men, did a slight nod, then looked back towards the red truck. He waved at them, pursed his lips, then cleared his throat. "Hey! If you guys want to come in this way, you'll need to ditch the truck! Just park it somewhere else, then walk up to the gates! The truck's too big to fit in here!"


@OverlyIntricateLove


Cynthia


Cynthia quickly looked up at the woman who had just approached her. Evelyn. A soft smile almost formed on her lips at Evelyn's awkward attempt at conversation, but she couldn't bring herself to it. "Are you alright?" Was the woman's first words to escape her mouth, and Cynthia sighed, her attention drifting from the book to Evelyn. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"


@GalaxyGirl

 

[Castello]

Dean and Yumi


Yumi and Dean slowly exchanged looks and slowly nodded as the man above them spoke. Dean almost looked tempted to go back to the car to get it somewhere safe, but he decided against it. There were plenty of cars on the street. All they had to do to get a new one was break into someones house with a car out front and take the dead person's keys.


"Dean, keep the wits up, okay?" Yumi assured as she pulled up her bow, not loading it. But if the situation became a violent one she could load it and fire it in a matter of seconds. Dean always called it Yumi's thunder, but Yumi never let such silly nicknames get to her softer side, she'd always ignore his pleads of glee.


"Yumi, let me do the talking no matter what okay? No offence but you seem to be excellent at talking yourself into fights. We're just here to see what they got, maybe they'll let us use some beds or something." Dean proposed and began to make his way to the instructed area. These people seemed friendly enough. Perhaps to friendly. Dean used to request that Yumi put her weapon away, but with all the bad people at these days, weapons were the only thing a person could rely on. And Yumi, in a sense, was like a weapon, but she was a friend too.


"Okay Dean. But I want to get out of here soon. Cities like this worry me... There is always a man with a gun waiting for us it seems... I prefer to be on the move" Yumi finished and followed Dean.


"We're just traders. Don't mind the weapons. We're just worried about the walkers. Thanks for letting us in though. We are exhausted!" Dean called out, showing them his weapon. However whilst giving his little speech, he checked around for any threats, none. He spoke clearly and calmly, with no threat at all. Yumi followed Dean and also raised her bow. They mean't no harm.





@ClassicDukeHat

 

[GalaxyGirl]

EVELYN

​

"Well," Evelyn messed with a rock on the ground with her shoe, making a face for a moment as she reconsidered her words. Maybe talking one-on-one with Cynthia was a bad idea. She was a year older than Xavier--if he had been alive--and that made Evelyn want to avoid Cynthia and care for her at the same time. Still, reminder of her dead brother or not, the girl was young. Maybe she needed Evelyn's help or not, but she'd offer it either way.


"Well, for one, you're spending your birthday with those buggers as party guests," she nodded at the Walkers so desperately trying to climb up over the fence. "Two, you're reading probably the most boring book on the planet." She offered Cynthia a grin, letting her know that she was just joking with her. "At least if not boring, the most ironic book possible."


Frowning then, Evelyn's gaze turned back to the Walkers for a moment. They really were quite rowdy, and she could see how they could put a damper on a birthday. Turning back to Cynthia, she offered another smile along, then asked, "So how would you spend a birthday? You know, before the apocalypse?"


Not realizing the question could take a turn for the worse, Evelyn waited patiently for the answer.


---

ASHER

​

Asher grinned as he watched the man and woman exit the car. The new ones were always fun to poke and prod at. Even seeing the woman ready her bow didn't stop the young boy from slinging his sniper back around his shoulder and racing down the ladder to be the tomato-haired welcoming committee for the newcomers. He had been aching for excitement! Maybe this was it!


He hurried out toward the entrance, skidding to a halt as he stared at the strangers. It wasn't Asher's job to let new survivors in, so instead he just gawked at them like they were animals in the zoo he used to go to with his parents, waiting for Jack or one of the others to catch up.

 

[ClassicDukeHat]

Jack


Jack smiled warmly at the two figures at the bottom of the ladder, making a quick wave towards them and was nearly about to scale down the ladder when Asher sped ahead of him, flinging himself down the ladder in an orange and hyperactive blur. Jack sighed, and then began the perilous scale down the ladder. "I'm...I'm coming down! I just need to tell you a few things before I can let you in!" Jack's feet finally touched the ground, and he looked towards the two figures. "I know you guys are just looking out for walkers, I get it. But we'll need your weapons. Me and...Asher. We'll need them. It's just regulatory. I'm sorry. Second of all, we aren't really available to trade anything. All we need is people...and we do have a few good beds to spare, if you guys mind to stay..." He smiled again, looking at the two.


@OverlyIntricateLove


Cynthia


Cynthia looked back at Evelyn. Her comments about the books, the "party guests" just seemed like something that was made up to pass time. Evelyn was telling these inane jokes, which the little girl would guess would've been funny, had she not felt so...


Strange. Was that the word? Strange. Maybe it could work.





Sure, maybe she wasn't the happiest person on the planet right now, especially on her birthday of all days. She wasn't really even sure if today was her birthday. It was a good guess though, maybe. She remembered that she was born in...1995. February of 1995. And it felt like February, and she felt twelve.


That was when something Evelyn said caught Cynthia's attention. How did she spend birthdays before the apocalypse? Before everything got destroyed? She thought hard, she thought for long... and it finally came to her. Her last normal birthday had been her ninth.


"On my ninth birthday I had a few friends over. And a cake. Their were balloons, and a few presents. My friends were...Clementine...um...Stacy...I...can't remember much...I remember I got a cake...and my friends were there...and so were my parents...and there was a cake..." Cynthia trailed off, her mind thinking of the great delights she had that day, until her face turned a gloomy gray once more. "Their probably dead. Or lost in the woods."


@GalaxyGirl

 

[BloodThunder27]

As always, Careena just stayed quiet. In spite of contributing to the Community, she was usually a loner and preferred to keep to herself, often finding that others slow her down. Although she is not devoid of compassion, she has a lot of trouble showing it due to her extremely bitter outlook on life. Not like her trust issues helped either, which made it harder for her to get along with others. If she wasn't helping around, she would normally be sitting in her room cleaning her Handgun, which she treasures dearly next to her Combat Knife, all she really needed right now was a Rifle, since she was carrying a lot of M4-Style Magazines and wasn't really using them. While sitting in the Jeep, she just played around with the blade on her Handgun. As always, she was fully loaded and if she needed more Ammunition, she would just make it herself to keep from using the Community's Resources, provided she can find the Materials.


@ClassicDukeHat

 

[amended]

James

James woke up from a nap 2 hours ago, he was still kind of drowsy and unsure of what to do at the moment. But luckily his uselessness would be cured by the man named Carlos who came walking up to him which led to James and some other girl named Careena sitting in the jeep, driving somewhere,


"May I ask what's going on?" James says as he cradles his shotgun in his arms. James simply stares out through the windshield.



​

@ClassicDukeHat

 

[ClassicDukeHat]

Carlos


Carlos eyed the back through the rearview mirror, listening to what the man had to say, and what the woman did not. He responded to the man first. "We're going out to find survivors. You know we lost a few a couple days ago...and we need all the manpower we get. I'm pretty sure the old school was surrounded by walkers, so that'd be a good place to start."


He then turned his attention towards the woman, Careena, who was currently fiddling with her knife. "Don't cut yourself." He snickered, then turned his head back to the old dirt and winding road they were currently traveling in.


@Stew


@Kawashima Thunder

 

[Sarafina30]

(Short Collab with @CommodoreOlaf to get things rolling)


Long spider webbed cracks covered the gray concrete ground, reaching thin fingers throughout the room and out the heavy metal door. Aylaela sat hunched over in one of the wooden chairs, no doubt a remnant of the class’ projects gone by. Flashes of gold ran across the wall behind her, light shining onto the worn pieces turning in the woman’s hands. Two golden rings hanging from a thin chain weighed down the farm girl’s palms, an invisible mass of pain clinging to the objects themselves.


A shadow fell over her hands, a familiar figure blocking the light that fell through the open door, Sam. He leaned against the frame of the door, a light gray jacket swung over his shoulder.


"This where you run off to these past days?" he said in a low voice.


At the sight of her, a smile found it's way on his face and for a second, the thoughts that plagued a post-apocalyptic survivor seemed to disappear into the world. Then he returned to reality and noticed their surroundings.


A pile of desks lay in one corner, defeated. The window, cracked in some places, completely broken in the others, decorated the wall, allowing light into the room. It was mostly drywall but the parts where paint still survived had the faded remnants of a painted, ambiguous image. Sam moved towards her, pulling a chair from the shadows. Dust particles floated freely through the air, spiraling upwards with every step.


Sam plopped the chair down next to her, sat, and leaned backwards, relaxed.


"Cynthia liked her present, thanks to me." He said, grinning. He liked to take credit for thinking up the idea even though, truthfully the suggestion originated from Aylaela' own person. He'd never admit it though.


“She’s a bright girl, and with good taste too. Hopefully she can appreciate Orwell’s beloved doublethink, though personally it always stumped me,” the woman responded before pausing, raising a slow eyebrow and turning to look at Sam beside her. “‘Thanks to me’? I’m sure you’d like to think so.”


Freeing her hands by returning the rings to her jean pocket, she reached for Sam’s warm fingers to intertwine with her own with a small smile playing at her lips. When the boy turned his gaze on her, it helped to ease the suffering of her own thoughts, bringing her an inkling of joy she thought not possible with all that had happened to them.


Another figure strolled in from outside the workshop, slightly shorter in stature but slowly climbing in height to reach the track star’s beside Aylaela.


“Howdy,” Evan muttered, a combination of teenaged grump and gruffness. He looked down on the two, tall enough to do so now, with hands shoved in his pant pockets, the corners of his mouth turning down in a sour mood. He had an air of unease about him, something common throughout the whole group, the original of the few more so than the newbies. “I don’t know about you, but this place irks me. We should be on the move, not sitting here like ducks. The blood dragons happened because we thought we were safe, Charlotte happened because we tried to hide.”


At the mention of the bloodthirsty group, Aylaela stiffened, a freezing zing running from the bottom of her spine all the way to the base of her skull, piercing her head with a fierce headache. If she never encountered another human, the woman would be content after the torture of watching her older brother get crucified at the God forsaken camp by those sick bastards.


Evan pulled her out of the past, forcing her to look at their newest dilemma, “It’s like everytime we think ourselves safe, something bad happens and one day, we won’t survive… We should move, don’t you think?”


The farm girl sighed, glancing at Sam with an ounce of fear in her eyes. They could stay, attempt at another home, but what was the point? Sooner or later people would come and try and kill them for whatever sick reason, or walkers would force them out. Reason after reason piled atop her shoulders and she soon found herself nodding slowly in agreement.


“When did you get so logical?” She asked with an attempt at a tired grin, falling short. “I think we should wait for morning though, figure out where to head, pack up, and get a good nights rest. But it’s going to be difficult, are you sure about this?” Aylaela offered a way out, even though she knew it’s what they would have to do to keep the children and themselves alive. The woman looked between the two men with a raised eyebrow, seeking their final decisions.

 

[BloodThunder27]

Careena paid no mind to him. Although she wasn't self-absorbed, she wasn't interested in making any friends. Her Parents' Deaths was already heard enough to let soak in. She was only tagging along for the ride because she needed to contribute to the Community in order to stay, otherwise it was back to drifting and she wasn't fond of living on the go. Because the road started to get bumpy, she stopped messing around with her Handgun Bayonet because now was probably the worst time to get a cut and then catch an illness.


@ClassicDukeHat

 

[Wintermute]

Edward was walking along a dirt road, paying mind to the magazines that he had left for his trusty P-90. He knew he had about 10 mags, but he liked recounting them over and over to pass the time, once or twice looking up to make sure he was following the road. A few weeks after narrowly escaping the walker herd and loosing an entire group to it, he had started to roam endlessly on the look for a road. Just the day before, he had found this dirt road and had started to follow it, hoping it would take him somewhere like a supermarket or a mall or something he could scavenge to find food and supplies.


After some while of walking, he heard the distant noise of a car engine, or what he thought was a car engine. He ran ahead just to see a trail of dust and the outline of a jeep at a dangerously close distance. He could either face them or hide, and he preferred the latter. He looked to his right and saw a line of bushes. Just as the jeep was getting closer, and the people inside probably saw him do this, he dove into the bushes, hoping to not be seen.


@Kawashima Thunder


@ClassicDukeHat

 

[amended]

James nods as he gazes out the windshield, as they came around a turn James saw a man that looked at some bushes before jumping into them. James suddenly yells,

"STOP!" As he grips his shotgun more securely while he waits for Carlos to come to a complete halt. James thought about what the man did, jumping into a bush? That was unheard of, who would do such a thing? Whatever the answer was, James did not know.​

 

[Loke Fullbuster]

Tyson looked down at the body that lay before him. Someone he knows, no... someone he used to know lay on the stone floor where the boy had left them. He had gone for help, but as usual, there was no one, no one good anyway. Tyson knelt down before the figure. "U...u.. uncle Tim?" The boy called out slowly. Tyson reached forward to check for a pulse when a cold hand grasped his. Tyson's hand instantly went for the ice pick that was concealed within his boot. The boy raised the object above his uncle's head, his eyes wide with fear, when a small voice escaped his uncles mouth, "Do it," the man said. Tyson was taken aback by his words. "Wha... What do you mean?" he asked. "You know what I mean!" his uncle responded with a cough, "But use this." Tyson's uncle pulled out the small silver piece he had carried around with himself from the beginning. "I want you to do it, and I want you to go... find some others and take of yourself. Don't be a stranger to this world." Tyson's uncle told him. "No... I... I can't do it. I... I won't... I can't," The boy was on the verge of tears. "Yes... you can,". "We can fix you... look... the bleeding stopped." Tyson looked down at the bullet hole that was left at the site of impact. A couple inches above his belly button, the bullet had ripped through. "You and I both know that isn't true... It's okay, I'll be... In heaven. Now do it." Tyson shook his head. "You can do it... it's all right." Tyson's uncle placed the gun in the boys hand and aimed it towards himself. "Now pull it."


"NO!"


"You can do it son."


"I can't!"


"Yes you can."


And with that Tyson's uncle placed his finger around the boys, and made him...


BANG!


The shot rang out, along with Tyson's mournful cries, over a lost loved one...


Tyson wandered aimlessly through the thin neck of woods over toward the next town.


The image replayed in his head.


The blood stained shirt hugged him closely.


The gun that had ended it all hung loosely from the boys hand.


Tyson stopped when he was inches from a chain link fence. He could see people through it. "I want you to do it, and I want you to go... find some others and take of yourself. Don't be a stranger to this world."


He heard, and that is when... he shook it.

 

[Macaberz]

"When did you get so logical?"


Evan shrugged, burying fingers even deeper into pockets. "Since like forever," he countered. Yet this was typical of his behavior. Deep down he knew how rash he'd been and how mindbogglingly fortunate he was to be alive. More than half of the people he'd known had either turned or got left behind. Yet he was still here and the people who'd helped him over a year ago, were but ghosts of the people he'd met. Empty shells, hollowed by grief, and stress, and pain, and sorrow. Now, perhaps, he could return the favor, by alleviating the burden of responsibility they carried.


Someone had written a few vulgarities in faded chalk on the blackboard. No one had cared to clean it so far, perhaps because they too felt that staying here would be suicide. He didn't care to clean it away either as he leaned against smudged black and white.


Eyes briefly flashed over the young woman before him, lingering a little too long on her curves. For such a battle-hardened woman, Aylaela somehow managed to look extraordinarily ordinary. It made him long back to the old world where'd hang out near the mall and check out the girls with a few friends. Sam had earned the jackpot though, and Evan had little interest in Aylaela aside from the occasional glance, his eyes dwelling were they shouldn't when he thought no one was looking. Quickly bringing his gaze up to meet her eyes, Evan listened to what else Aylaela had to say.


"But it’s going to be difficult, are you sure about this?"


"Like hell," he said, scraping some dust from the floor with his feet. "It's a damn school, d'you suppose I wanted to go back to school?" He snorted, "it's pointless. Already was, is even more so now. You can't kill biters with books, though you may be able to bore them to death by reading to them. Who the hell has time to read now anywa..." his voice trailed off, Cynthia came to mind. "Never mind," he added as he pushed his back off the wall and drummed fingers against the gun on his belt.


"I want to go. The kids are getting nervous too, I can tell. I've tried to look after them." Though Cynthia was very capable of holding her own, Beckett really wasn't and he felt protective of both. Over time, he'd burdened himself with being responsible, to his best capabilities, for the two girls. Beckett seemed to take it well, Cynthia not so much. That didn't deter him to command anyone under his age about when he felt like it, though he tried not to rule over them too harshly.


His grimy features puckered as he took a step forward and lowered his voice. "I took a look at the map, there's a town called Ashville nearby. We could do another supply run there, but we can't split up. We have too few bullets as it is and we can't leave half of us behind unarmed. Here," he knelt before the two and pulled a crumpled tourist map from his pocket, grubby hands flattening it on the cold, hard floor. "We're here," he pointed out, "Ashville is a hike away, or less if we can fix up one of those cars..."


"What I'm worried about," he met Sam and Aylaela's gaze, "is the river, here. We haven't had much rain yet, but it will come and then the river will flood and our path will be blocked. There was a river nearby our farm, just took a week of rain to flood our land entirely, it came up to my chin," he smiled faintly, "I must've been five or something..."

 

[Castello]

Dean and Yumi


Dean slowly reached back for his weapon and slowly handed it towards the man. He did this in a hesitant fashion. But he was desperate for a night's rest and was tired of mistrusting people all the time. Upon giving up his weapon, Yumi shot him a confused look. At this point of the relationship he knew exactly what she mean't. 'Are you bloody crazy!' Her looked screamed those very words, but she slowly moved forward with her weapon handed out. She had a regretful look, but she had to trust Dean occasionally. Almost completely forgetting, he reached for his knife and also handed it over. It was always the weapon he forgot, but it was by far his most useful. Something he could use as a tool and a weapon. In sequence Yumi also handed over her blade, her emotions still lingering in regret.


"I suppose this will be good?" Dean said and looked to the kid. He was a little saddened however, to see the boy with a sniper rifle. Military grade even. It was only natural, but the sight made Dean cringe, but of course, Yumi didn't bat an eye.


"Hey... Kid, maybe put the weapon away okay. Wouldn't want to blast my head off would ya'?" Dean lightly stifled backing away slightly, but keeping a rather calm and humorous look on his face.


"Oh, and one other thing mister. I'm Dean and the Chinese girl is Yumi. Pleasure to meetcha'." Dean introduced. However instead of talking, Yumi lightly nodded. Looking a little antsy about the whole entire situation. Normally she would be shooting people by now, but she wasn't exactly ready to trust, even with a boy around.





@ClassicDukeHat


@GalaxyGirl

 

[BloodThunder27]

Although Careena thought she saw something move in the bushes they were passing, she had no interest in finding out what it was. Instead, she just stayed quiet and continued to give her companions the scathing attitude. She folded her arms and refused to make eye contact with any of her companions. She was just there to bail them out if anything went wrong and to contribute to the community. The main reason why she was even bothering to help out was because it was within her best interest. Sure, it may be selfish of her, but it wasn't like she was there to make friends with anyone nor did she want to. She was just waiting for the Jeep to stop so they can start the looting process.

 

[GalaxyGirl]

Okay, so talking to Cynthia was maybe not Evelyn's best idea. Seeing the gloomy look on the girl's face tore Evelyn up, but there was really not much she could do to help cheer her up. She didn't know the girl very well, and didn't want to scare her or push her away. It was definitely different than speaking with Xavier.


Evelyn stared at the ground for a moment, pondering her response to Cynthia's confession. She knew that she had made a mistake by drawing the girl's memories back to the past. She supposed that was never a good thing. The past was in the past for a reason. There wasn't any sense in dragging it up again.


Tugging at her hair wrap for a moment, Evelyn sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "I mean, I know it doesn't help when people apologize, but I am. It sucks. I know what you've been through and it's something no one should have to go through--especially someone your age."


She shrugged her shoulders then. "And I'm not the best speaker all the time. I'm better with actions, so sorry if I said something wrong. I didn't mean to make you sad. I just wanted to remind you that even though things look dark..." she paused for a moment, considering. "Well, Cynthia, just remember that there's always some good in the world. No matter what happens, there's always some good. Ok?"


Not giving her much of a chance to respond, Evelyn stood then, plastering her smile on her face again. "Well, happy birthday anyway!" She waited for a moment before she turned and started off in the other direction.


---


Asher stood with Jack while he dealt with the new people. It wasn't as if Asher was shy or nervous or anything, but he didn't handle those sorts of jobs. He was just recon, and sometimes he cleaned the bunks. Those were his jobs--not the welcoming committee. Still, the newbies did always spark a curiosity in him, so he stuck around.


Jack told them they needed to hand over their weapons, and as Dean handed his to Jack, Asher held his hand out for Yumi's blade. "Nice setup," he remarked as he looked it over.


"Hey kid, mind putting that away..."


Asher glanced over to Dean and laughed, putting his rifle back over his shoulder. It wasn't as if he was going to kill them now. "Oh, if I wanted to kill you guys, I would have already. Also, that'd get me in a lot of trouble, so you're safe for now."


He turned to look over his shoulder for a moment before looking back to Jack. "Should we take them to Nicholas or show them to the bunkers?"

 

[CommodoreOlaf]

Sam brought his hands around Aylaela's slowly. Even though they were rough to the touch, their fingertips seemed to fit each graze and chisel that decorated each other's hands. They were warm and comforted him.


When Evan appeared, he let go of her grasp and addressed him. The boy began talking of leaving the high school. What he said was true, in fact, painfully so but Evan had a point.


"That's not a bad idea."


Sam agreed, with a nod of his head. The young Evan was getting taller and taller by the day, matching the growing intelligence that Evan was gifted with the moment he was born. Sam saw in him, a strong leader, even though the boy, at times, thought narrow-mindedly.


Those times were far away in the past now and he was pleased to see how much he'd grown. Similar to how an older brother would feel seeing his younger brother score a touchdown in a football game.


"We can drop by Ashville, but I think we should hike it." Sam observed the map and the distances. "It'll take some time but it's safer. I can't risk a vehicle. Too loud. Last thing we need is a horde, or worse yet, bandits."


"Aylaela, we should wrap this up and move towards the town. We'll be on the road by nightfall." Sam looked at Evan and Aylaela's face for responses.


@Sarafina30


@Macaberz

 

[Graybay]

Beckett remembered her last year of school, before everything changed.


Her school was nothing like this; she was pretty sure that this school was a school for older kids because they didn't have a room like the one they were all in now, but she still couldn't help but be reminded of the school, the town, that she left behind. She had always hated school, she recalled, especially the homework. Recess was always fun because she got to play with her friends, but that was the most enjoyable part of her day. She loathed the work, too. What kid her age didn't? But the more time she spent reminiscing on her old life, the more that she realized she would have done all that schoolwork without a complaint, now.


She always spent a lot of time thinking to herself, and when she thought about school, the thoughts of her old friends came to mind as well. She wondered what happened to them. She hoped that, somehow, they had became lucky like she did and someone found them to help them. But something in the back of her head kept wanting to tell her that she was wrong. Not many were as lucky as her.


She sat down on the ground, rummaging around in her jacket and unzipping one of the pockets. She pulled out a piece of chalk that she had found and decided to keep. She was thankful for the calmness they now had, but she got bored pretty easily. They were safe here, or she was pretty sure they were, anyways. It was a little scary for the walkers to be literally right outside, but they were unable to get to them as of now so it was okay.


She made a mark on the ground with the chalk, and pleased that it made a mark, began to color idly, not really making a picture but just coloring for no real reason. It didn't occur to her that they may not want her getting chalk all over the place, and she cringed at the thought, but kept coloring anyways. Oh well. She had already made a mark.


She looked over at Cynthia. It was her birthday. She wanted to say something, but went against the idea. It wasn't because she didn't like her; it was far from that, actually. She didn't even hold a grudge for her harsh words towards her about her dad. If she hadn't said that, it would have been harder for her to let go, maybe. It hurt to hear so bluntly, but she knew Cynthia was a survivor. She respected the older girl a lot, perhaps even looked up to her a bit. She was a lot tougher than her, that was for sure. She didn't say much to her in fear of annoying her.


She looked away and continued to color, sat apart from everyone else.

 

[Macaberz]

Sam was right. Cars were hard to come by and travelling by foot was faster sometimes. With no one around to maintain the roads or push aside hurriedly abandoned cars, vehicles had only the purposes of carrying you a long distance, and the scavenging area wasn't that far away. Nodding to Sam, Evan slipped his trusty magnum from his belt, opened the chamber and counted the bullets. Three. Of course. He'd developed a habit of counting them, and the number had been steadily dwindling. More than a year into the apocalypse now, it came as no surprise that bullets became increasingly rare. Some places they'd been had even used them as a currency and he'd had to surrender a dozen rounds for some stale bread and a bottle of water.


"I am ready, it'll take just a moment to pack." He carried just one backpack with him, bits and bobs tied to the many straps and nets. In truth, he rarely unpacked. He'd lost too many things that way, when they needed to dash. "D'you guys reckon she'll make it?" he nudged his head towards little Beckett, chalking on the floor in the classroom across the hall, nearest to the main entrance. "She can't walk the full twenty, twenty-five miles. Not in our pace at least."


He shot an apologetic look at Sam. Dude had been crippled, fitting in nicely with the rest of their oddball family. Beckett was small and no one would even dare to suggest leaving her behind. Nevertheless, they all knew she was a burden, slowing the rest of them down. Perhaps she felt it too. Perhaps that was why she retreated within herself more often than not. Sam was similarly broken, but at least he had the mind and muscle to make up for it. John seemed to live on a whole different planet at times, wandering about on his own, muttering under his breath. The man was undoubtedly disturbed and growing harder to gauge every single day.


"We can take turns carrying her, I suppose," he said, blowing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Except for Cee and you of course," he told Sam. "Just let us do it, okay? Your legs really can't handle it anymore..."


Scratching his head, he gazed out the window before returning his eyes to the map. "Walkers've been gathering outside the fences. They'll hold, but not for many more days, not even with everyone on poke patrol. Then there's timing too, we can't risk traveling through the dark, the dead never sleep and we'll be easy pickings." He shook his head, letting the words sink in.


A throbbing silence lingered in the air before he picked up the map, re-folded it and stuffed it back into his pocket. "I am wagering we have one, maybe two more days to try and get out. Once we do, we might be able to settle for week or so. I've been thinking, we could try getting to sea. I mean...who knows, maybe things aren't so bad in other countries..."


Noticing Evelyn entering the building, Evan waved her over and relayed the plan to her. "So what do you think?" he asked, "and how's your ammo? You might want to share with Cee, she has an ace shot..."


@CommodoreOlaf


@Sarafina30


@GalaxyGirl


@Graybay