This is my first attempt at a Walking Dead fic... I've had the idea running around in my head for a while, but I wanted to wait for the season premiere before I posted anything. Reviews are always welcome and constructive criticism is fine, just nothing rude. If you all like it I'll keep going and try to post once a week :) Enjoy.
It was early morning, the fog was thick and a light covering of dew was on the leaves. The camp was quiet, all asleep,save one. Daryl Dixon. He sat on a rock partially hidden by a dense tangle of shrubs. He was deep in thought, going over the recent events that had sent the group to the roads once again. The farm, their safe haven was over run...they had fought all night to save who could be saved and escape. Despite his gruff exterior, it had gotten to him... A growing rumble in the distance pulled him from his memories and he jumped into action, ducking behind the rock to where he could see the road but couldn't be seen. The thunderous noise, closer now, shook the ground.
"Diesel engine." He muttered, pulling his crossbow around in case he needed to take aim, "I'll be damned."
When the roar was nearly deafening a large red pickup came into view and slowed to a stop 500 yards up the road. The driver's top half popped out of the window, presumably sitting on the window sill. She was a pretty little girl, no more than twenty-four, with long dark hair falling down her back in a thick cascade of waves. She wore a cowboy hat to shield the harsh morning glare and from the way her button-up shirt was tied he could see a large wound running down her side, closed with uneven stitches.
"Is there anyone out there?" She shouted, her voice hoarse from disuse. "I have food, water, warm blankets...if anyone's there, please..." she trailed off as a look of pure hopelessness crossed her face. She slouched against the truck's roof, slamming her palm down on it as she cried.
"What's going on?" Rick whispered from behind him. Daryl didn't have to glance back to know that the entire camp was staring wide-eyed at him. He did nothing more than point towards the truck and the woman. Rick followed his finger to the girl and furrowed his eyebrows. He turned back to the group, ready to walk back to his tent.
"Rick, she said she had food." Lori looked desperately at him through suddenly alert eyes.
"She doesn't look like much of a threat," Hershel murmured.
"Then we're agreed?" Everyone nodded at Rick. "Alright, y'all stay here, I'll be right back."
The girl must have heard Rick's footsteps because her head jerked up and she tilted it sideways as if listening. "Hello?" she called out, "Anyone there?" Daryl watched as she slowly reached down into the truck bed and pulled out a 12 gauge. She gingerly lifted the butt to her shoulder and pushed it off safety before taking aim, ready to fire.
"Don't shoot!" Rick called emerging from the tree line, hands held up to show he meant no harm. The girl lowered the gun, evidently relieved that it wasn't a walker. "You bit?" Rick asked as he approached the truck and it's owner.
"Are you with a group?"
"No, just me an' my dog."
"Do you have a name?"
"Rick, Rick Grimes."
"Joey. My dog here's Diesel." A small dog popped his head out of the passenger side window, his ears perky and his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
"Alright, Joey, I've got a group over here, if you wanna' get out we can get that wound checked out."
"I'm fine. Caught my side on a sheet of roofing tin, think I did a fine job sewing it up. Thank ya', though, Rick" she hopped down, landing unsteadily on her feet. "I'll just be glad for some company." She stumbled down the street, obviously exhausted. As she reached Rick she tripped, and, if not for his outstretched arm, would have probably fallen flat on her face.
"When was the last time you slept?" the concern in his voice caused the tiny girl to pull a sheepish face and shrug her shoulders. Joey whistled for Diesel to follow and allowed herself to be lead into the woods.