#steadyfire

     If he hadn’t run into Carl that day in the woods Steve was positive he would have died.

     When the outbreak initially hit home, Steve had been ten years old. At first he hadn’t understood exactly what was going on, sticking close to his mother’s side and clinging to the hope that the government would solve everything and set things straight. The town had gone into lockdown, setting up barriers and creating strict rules. For a while everything worked out fine; the police did their job as best they could, enforcing the laws and keeping order. Able-bodied civilians provided aid, and while it wasn’t perfect the town was able to sustain itself for years. But then one day things began to slip.

    The restrictions grew tighter, more survival-based than concerned with quality of life. Fights broke out between those who had been left in charge and those who thought they could run things better. Steve’s own father had found himself in a position of leadership, one of several in an attempt to keep things fair. Of course, nothing really was fair, and Steve quickly learned that his family was skimming necessary supplies, leaving less fortunate households with little to their names. The small town, easily halved by initial attacks, grew ever smaller. Life inside the walls became unbearable, and when Steve was eighteen conflicts came to a head.

    After a particularly nasty fight a small rebel group stole supplies from their collective cache and attempted to escape, leaving the gates wide open as they ran. Not only were they killed by the constant waves of Walkers just outside the walls, but those same Walkers made their way into the town in the middle of the night. The watch wasn’t enough to rouse the citizens in time, and Steve woke to the sound of screaming outside his house. Grabbing the baseball bat by the side of his bed, Steve prepared himself to fight, only to make it downstairs in time to witness his mother being brutally torn apart by a group of the undead, still alive--screaming. A hand shot out from somewhere behind him, wrapping around his arm, pulling him from the house and into the woods behind his house. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he recognized his father’s voice, guilt eating away through the numbness, the image of his terrified mother burned into his mind. Could he have helped her? Eased her suffering at least? 

    This had to be a nightmare. 

    It wasn’t until they had stopped, reconnected with a group of survivors that Steve saw the bite. His father’s arm was bleeding profusely, and while he insisted that he was fine they all knew what was coming. He panicked, drawing a gun Steve had never seen before, threatening anyone who came close. When he started to drag Steve away into the woods it was the chief of police who drew his own piece, threatening to fire, angry words firing back and forth until there was a series of gunshots. Steve remembered hearing a scream, remembered warmth splashing over him, remembered his father falling at his feet, dead before he even hit the ground. And after that he stopped functioning, allowing himself to be lead away, taken in by a group of people he barely knew. A group that would shortly become his new family, that would teach him to survive. It was little wonder that Steve found himself more or less adrift when another attack separated them, leaving him lost in a world he had almost no experience with.

“ I think this place has already been looted .”  But who knows , maybe they’ll find something that the others missed . It never hurt to take a quick look . The place was huge , an old factory of sorts , it had machines that Tate didn’t recognize in a few rooms , a bunch of desks in another , and useless papers dating back a decade ago . There had to be something --- Anything . Even just some jackets or something to stockpile just in case would be nice . Rick and Daryl were with them of course , but trusted the boys enough to take the building next door . It was quicker that way . Tate started on the desks , yanking each drawer open and doing a quick sweep through with his hands before repeating the action in the next .  “ Sort of weird that there ain’t any walkers around neither ... Makes me wonder if some people use to live here and cleared the place out .”

The words had slipped out almost without Daryl’s noticing, too quick for him to think to bite over. He grimaced now, curling his knee closer to his chest. Why did he feel that way?

It was a good question, but there wasn’t a good answer for it. Past everything he’d been through with his family (and he did think of them as family), past everything they’d done for each other, how close they were, it was something Daryl just... knew. Deep down inside, some grain of truth he’d known about himself, long as existing. When you grew up knowing you were a wasted piece, that wasn’t the kind of thing you forgot easily.

“Nah, forget it. Know y’all care, just...”

Just what? Memories hit like a blow to the gut, memory of being dragged off to that truck while the rest of them stared helplessly. Being paraded around Alexandria with that A on his chest while they all just looked on. He didn’t blame any of them. He knew –– much as anyone, he knew –– what could’ve happened if they made a move to help him. But the dark cell had left a lot of time for the demons in his head to come crawling out and Daryl’s gaze fell to his knee, his head shaking.

          it  feels  like  they’ve  been  walking  for  weeks.  in  reality  ,  it’s  probably  only  been  a  few  days  but  the  bright  summer  sun  is  really  starting  to  have  an  affect  on  the  girl.  hot  ,  tired  ,  thirsty  and  most  definitely  sunburnt  ,  jo’s  about  ready  to  just  lay  down  on  the  hot  pavement  and  just  die  --  let  her  become  a  tasty  meal  for  the  walkers  out  there.  even  her  backpack  feels  to  heavy  at  this  point.

          with  an  angry  huff  ,  she  tosses  her  backpack  out  in  front  of  her  ,  letting  herself  fall  to  her  knees  before  rolling  over  to  lay  on  her  back  to  stare  up  at  the  sky.  at  this  point  ,  she  doesn’t  even  care  if  carl  stops  for  her.  ❝  i’m  gonna  fuckin’  die  out  here  ,  carl.  ❞  eyes  closed  ,  she’s  not  even  sure  the  other  is  close  enough  to  hear  her  whining.  ❝  fuck  the  sun  ,  dude  ,  i’m  gonna  fistfight  it.  ❞

“Ah see, the yet is what worries me.” She stepped closer to the table to examine the jars and bottles splayed out in front of her nephew. Turning a bottle to face her so she could read the label, eyebrows raised then quickly furrowed with concern. “Do I need to call in the bomb squad?” Sally knew how angry he was about losing more of his family...losing his girlfriend... she was angry too. She was barely keeping it together herself these days. The Whisperers were a problem, true enough, but she didn’t want Carl going out with a bone to pick and a short fuse to follow. He was acting impulsively and it was going to get him in trouble one way or another. 

see? They agree. 

Sometimes, it was freeing. Walking alone, just with a few guardians. No one watching her critically, no one to breathe down her neck. Beta would find her, as he always did. But not yet. For now, she simply walked; doing as she pleased as she went, safe with a mask and the dead believing she was one of them.

A small suburban street, and she let the small pack of a dozen walk ahead of her as she stopped; fingers brushing the concrete as she picked up a fallen newspaper from before this. Not that she could read it properly, but she could flip through and look at the pictures. People smiling on paper, like they had never known hunger or despair. Like they had never lived in her world. Perhaps they hadn't.

Automatically, her gaze swept around; glancing over empty street and empty doors and-- not empty roof. Lydia's eyes fell on the boy on the roof, pausing a moment in shock at being seen before slowly breaking from the pack.

          everybody  was  scared  when  shit  hit  the  fan.  that’s  just  how  it  was.  it’s  not  something  humanity  had  dealt  with  before  ,  sure  as  shit  not  something  FRANKIE  had  dealt  with  before.  it  took  what  felt  like  ages  to  understand  this  virus  ,  what  it  could  do  to  him.  if  he  can’t  die  ,  then  how  would  death  affect  him  here  ?  or  a  bite  ,  a  scratch  ?  HE  DIDN’T  KNOW.  and  fuck  ,  he  was  terrified.  his  genetics  ,  his  abilities  ,  those  are  for  him  to  know.  not  the  random  people  he’s  met  in  passing  ,  or  narrowly  escaped.  the  world  has  turned  cold  ,  and  so  have  those  that  remain.

          he  barely  knows  the  kid  ,  but  he  knows  he’s  grown  up  in  this  shit.  it’s  the  same  way  with  frankie’s  own  daughter.  no  matter  how  hard  you  try  ,  there’s  nothing  you  can  do  to  stop  your  child  from  growing  up  too  fast.  not  anymore.

          so  ,  frankie  takes  a  breath.  he  takes  a  breath  ,  because  he’s  unsure  of  what  to  say  in  this  lapse  of  silence.  ❝  it’s  alright  ,  ❞  he  finally  says  ,  though  he  barely  casts  the  boy  a  glance.  ❝  we’ll  survive.  ❞