Triggerfinger ➳ Daryl Dixon

e i g h t e e n

She had no plan.

She was not levelheaded. 

Presley was in no way prepared for this-- in any way, shape, or form. 

But before the group, Presley had never been prepared for any situation. She'd been ready to take every situation on, but she was never entirely prepared for it. She had a way of handling each situation and coming out okay, but she was never expecting everything to happen.

Expect the unexpected? That was a load of bullshit. You really just have to be capable of adapting to any situation.

Fast reflexes help, too.

Presley slowed to a walk as she approached the abandoned vehicle. Zeva trotted quietly beside her, ears pricked and head cocked happily. She didn't even seem to be missing the group. Truthfully, the silence was nice. 

"Just like old times, eh, girl?" Presley said with a thin smile, glancing down at the black mutt. It'd been like this before the group. Zeva didn't stop her from delving into dangerous missions-- she assisted. It'd always been Presley and Zeva going through everything together. 

Secretly, Presley had missed it.

Let's see if she remembers... Presley pressed herself against the trunk of the dusty car. Quietly, she tapped on it. 

Zeva sprang forward promptly, lifting her nose into the air and then scoping around the vehicle. Her actions informed Presley that there was a being within the vehicle, but whether it was human or roamer, she had yet to find it. 

Zeva sprang away and yipped. Sure enough, the dead face of a roamer pressed itself against the window. Presley opened the door and let it tumble out, killing it swiftly with her knife. 

After a few minutes of looting, she found only a few things that could be of much use to anybody. There was, however, a can of refried beans that she did set aside. Other than that, there was only a blinking flashlight and a few broken matches. 

The keys were still in the ignition. 

The car grumbled unwillingly when she turned the key. It sputtered and struggled. After a few more struggles with the key, the engine caught and purred unwillingly to life. There was three quarters of a tank. 

Zeva only took a second before she sprang inside, already anticipating the ride.

They started forward with the windows rolled all the way down. 

- - -

The little car made it to the middle of town before it sputtered and died. Cursing it, Presley gathered her things and started marching away. I guess my luck has to die at some point. 

Zeva was still prancing, pleased by the outcome. She waved her tail in the air and trotted with a skip in her step, half of her tongue hanging outside of her mouth. She was panting from the blaze of the Georgia heat, but the dog didn't seem to mind.

Presley, on the other hand, grumbled and wiped the sweat away from her brow with the back of her hand. 

The town was dead. Only a few roamers wandered, but none of them took interest in either Zeva or Presley. They just... wandered. Presley wandered until she found a clinic. 

She had little hope when she found the front door already busted. Still, she had to try. She pulled down an arrow and scoped through the small clinic. It was empty-- she couldn't even find a body.

Along with the lack of body, there was also a lack of pills. 

She sifted through everything, but there was nothing. Even all the bandages were wiped out. This place had obviously been scouted time after time until there was nothing left but speckles of blood on the floor and somebody's boot. She gave an exasperated sigh.