Pincushion and Beanpole Take On The Walking Dead

Days Gone By

The zombie's skull splattered across the side of the house as the woman swung the bat into its head. She turned quickly as the body crumbled to the ground, almost tripping over the red wiener dog running circles around her feet.

"Kuzco, get out of my way!"

The dog ignored her, however, and continued his assault on her balance as she stumbled across the lawn to her sister. The stop had been a mistake. They were tired, having spent most of the last week on foot since their car had died its final death as they entered Georgia.

Poor Captain Jack Sparrow, she thought as she swung the bat into the neck of another walker, taking the head clean off its shoulders.

She wished she had something better to defend herself against the walkers than the old wooden bat she was currently using. Already, the bat had cracked in several places and she wasn't sure how much longer it could last. That was all they needed; to be left here without a way to kill the brain munching monsters. Typical, really. Momma used to say that if it wasn't for bad luck, they'd have none at all. Fine, whatever. She'd just wrap the thing in another layer of duct tape and hope it lasted long enough to find another weapon.

If only either of them were able to use a gun. But Emma's sensitivity to sound due to her autism made it impossible for her to shoot and Rachel's poor eyesight had made it impossible for her to learn. All that had happened when she tried to shoot one of the handguns they'd picked up off a walker's body was a few lucky shots that actually managed to hit the stomach and chest as well as the general surrounding area but no matter how hard she tried, a head shot had been impossible. Rachel shuddered as she slammed the bat into another walker's face, remembering how close she had come to being an appetizer for the walker. She'd decided then and there to not rely on using guns.

It was a crap shoot anyways. She smiled again, her muscles relaxing a bit at the internal pun.

They'd only planned on staying in the area for a few hours to get some rest, but evidently the last week had taken more out of them than they thought. Once their heads hit the large sectional sofa of the house they'd broken into, they'd fallen into a deep dreamless sleep. Now the sun was high and several walkers roamed the street in search of an easy meal.

"Rachey!" Emma cried as she worked to fight off the snapping jaws that were trying to take a bite out of her own neck.

Rachel lunged at the rotting walker, kicking it off her sister before it could finish her off and quickly killed it. She bent down and picked up the dark blue Cubs hat that had fallen off her head during the fight, raking her short hair back before pulling the cap back down on her head. Apparently sensing that it was no longer in any immediate danger, Emma's own dog popped her head out of the carrier pack strapped to her owner's chest. Her body shook wildly as she looked around, a soft whine escaping her throat. Emma sat up and held the dog close, crooning soft words into her ear to calm the frightened animal.

They sat on the lawn amidst the officially dead walker bodies to catch their breath. It was hard to believe how little time had actually passed since the beginning of the apocalypse. It felt like years. So much had changed. Though when she really thought about it, not all of it had been necessarily bad. There was no more debt, no more constant expectations to succeed at jobs or school. Now success was defined by just staying alive and based on that definition they were doing pretty damn good. There hadn't really been much in either of their lives for the apocalypse to interrupt. They'd been just surviving long before that.

At least Momma didn't have to see this.

Her heart hurt at the thought and the recurring guilt that had hung over her the last few months washed over her once again. But it was true. Momma had been bed bound for the last year, unable to walk or turn over without assistance. If she'd been alive for this? Rachel shook her head, unable to fully verbalize the thought even to herself. There was no way she'd have been able to do it if anything had happened to her. She'd already had to make too many hard decisions when it came to Momma, ones that rested heavily on her shoulders until she thought she might crumble under its weight. No, she could at least be grateful that she never had to see Momma come back as one of the monsters.