Kate

The library is silent, the only sound the creaking shift of the looming wooden shelves. It feels akin to life before; midday sunlight streaming through large windows, the smell of paper and leather permeating the air. 

Here, one can almost pretend that everything is normal. Within this maze of knowledge, one can hide. Hide from the ambling monsters that want nothing but to tear flesh from bone, leaving nothing behind but a pile of viscera. But monsters are not all that is left in this world. No, the human race is resilient, stubborn in their survival.

The Archer found it pointless to waste time searching the library. After all, who would decide to stockpile goods in a place like this? Especially in this town, a backwoods rural area that could better be described as a village tucked in a pine forest with  a farmers market instead of a grocery store. And yet, here he stands, pushing the heavy oak doors open. The creak echoes through the building, followed by silence for a thick moment. Then, quiet as a mouse, footsteps. Small and quick. The Archer raises his crossbow, a knife clutched in one bracing hand. 

He figures it’s one of the monsters. Perhaps one of the unfortunately high number of children they have seen while here. But as he rounds a corner, he sees a child, yes, but one most unlike the others they have seen; she is alive.

A small asian girl no more than twelve crouches facing him, clutching a knife in one hand that looks more akin to a machete in her small hands. Her face is dirty and partially shielded by the cascading length of her hair, white as spun silk. But through the hair and dirt, he can see bared, blood-stained teeth and hollow violet eyes. Behind her lies the desecrated corpse of a woman, the face only just beginning to decompose. Her mother, perhaps? The woman’s face may have been left intact, her body has not been allowed this courtesy.  The bones of her ribs gleam in the sun, skin torn from them. Blood crusts the floor around her, the walls, the girl’s hands and face. 

The Archer crouches slowly, down to the girl’s level. Her eyes track his movement, but she does not move to use the knife that she clings to. He takes it as permission to keep moving and opens his pack, pulling out a half-eaten sleeve of crackers. Part of him cannot rationalize giving away a coveted resource like food, but the other part of him screams that this is a child. A child who had been forced to make the choice between cannibalism and starvation, left alone with only a corpse for companionship. And Adam said This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.. He thinks, those long past Sundays spent in church rearing their head once again. He swallows against the revulsion rising in his throat, instead holding out a handful of crackers. The girl hesitates, but her hunger wins out and she all but tears the food from his palm. She stuffs them in her mouth, relaxing incrementally. She takes the water that he offers next, gulping it down gratefully. The silence stretches on again, now less permeated by fear.

“Why.” It’s only one word, rasped out in a voice hoarse from unuse, soft but steady. 

He can’t fault her for asking, really. In this world, no one helps others out of the kindness of their hearts. Everything had a price, and most often it was a steep one. 

“You’re just a kid.” Is what he chooses to say in response. 

She nods once, leaning back to sit on the ground, crisscrossing her legs. 

“You plannin’ on staying here forever? Livin’ here till you die?” He asks after a moment.

She considers this, looking between him and the corpse still lying behind her. “You don’t wanna leave her,” It is not a question, nor is it framed like one, but she nods regardless. There is sadness in those eyes, he sees now. Buried under the anger and grief and bravery, there is a sad, scared little girl. 

“I’m alone now,” She says, voice growing steadier the longer they speak.

“You don’t have to be, kid. I’ve got people. Good people,” With this, he rises to his feet, reaching one hand out to her in invitation, “I’m Daryl.”

Once again, as though seeking permission, she looks from his outstretched hand back to the corpse. Though the corpse’s lips never move, the girl must have gotten whatever response she was seeking, because she takes his hand and pulls herself up.