Willow and Jodie Hunter, two sisters who are thrown into a new world order, must rewrite their odds. Everywhere the sisters may turn, cold rotten hands reach out for their flesh. Threatening their lives and moral compass. Survival is their priority...
"The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."
~ F. Scott Fitzgerald
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My hand raised above my head, covering my delicate eyes from the bright light. I can feel two more sets of hands tug at the back of my tank top. Instead of reacting - knowing no dead freak just took a hold of a shirt. Not even taking a chance to push its teeth into my skin - I stand in silence with the others, adjusting to the light.
There were no more arguments. No shunning Rick for his idea. Even Dixon went quiet.
The sound of a lone freak breaks the icy silence, however. Causing us all to awake from our shock state. Without any more hesitation, we move to the light. Weapons raised and eyes peeled wide open. Shane took the liberty to take out the random freak before following behind. Keeping our backside safe.
Once inside, I glance over my shoulder to see a woman named, Carol and her daughter cling on to me for safety. My eyes lock with the gray-haired mother, but I do not shrug her or her daughter off. Instead, I flash her a gentle smile before placing my wandering eyes back in front of me. I might not be the best person to stand behind but I can't let a helpless child feel afraid.
"Hello?" Rick suddenly calls out.
The entrance of the building still appeared neat and kept. Chairs, televisions, signs - the lobby had gone untouched. The oval-shaped front desk is dust-free. It was as if the outbreak hadn't touched the building at all.
To be honest, this place appears too normal for my liking.
"Close those doors!" A harsh voice echoes from a dimly lit hallway. My gaze falls onto a scruffy blonde man, with his rifle pointed our way. His eyes are tired. The shirt he wore was stained with some type of red liquid. Juice or wine. Take your pick. Although, the way he holds his rifle is a bit unnerving.
T-Dog and Daryl do what he says with pleasure.
"Anybody infected?" The strange man questions, still pointing his rifle at us. He struggles to keep his arms from shaking. Clear as day this man isn't a soldier.
"One of our group was. He didn't make it," Rick admits. Lowering his rifle.
Jodie and I exchange glances. This person must have died hours before we joined the picture. This person could very well have been Merle Dixon for all we knew. Which would explain Daryl's reaction once he had recognized me?
I did not give Rick or the others any time to explain their backstory. Where they came from or how'd they survive this long. We all have stories and if we are going to be stuck with each other during these crazy days, we might as well understand where they all came from. In do time I suppose.
