A/N: This just to happens to be my first shot at writing a fic based off of The Walking Dead. Just a quick reminder; I do not own any of the fantastic story line from the show, only the OC. I'll apologize in advance for how short this chapter is, I promise it'll get better.
Reviews are greatly appreciated, enjoy!
Chapter 1: Breaking at the Seams.
Willow was slowly jolted awake, unwillingly grasped by the cruel hands of reality, pulling her back to the present. The world was a clouded blur of shapes and objects, whirling around her vision in a pallid haze. She blinked in a subtle attempt to usher away the foggy areas that muddled her sight, her brows furrowing together as the sticky breeze brushed against her pale skin. The first thing she noticed was the sky, blanketed in a faint orange hue, informing her that it was late afternoon, though the date remained unknown. It was then that she noticed the snapped twigs digging into her bare arms, the feeling of a pounding headache thumping against her temples, the burning agony relentlessly tearing through her torso.
She let out a faint hiss as she warily propped herself up on her calloused elbows, sending another wave of raw pain through her frail chest. The burning flames licked down to the tips of her tarnished fingertips, causing warm liquid to spring in the back of her stinging eyes. Her gaze flicked across the area that surrounded her, hastily familiarizing herself with the dull setting. Parched soil kept her firmly rooted to the spot, and crisp, dry leaves scattered the barren dirt. Trees stood guard around her, towering several feet off of the ground, blazing sunlight peeked through the gnarled branches, drawing intricate patterns on the forest floor.
What am I doing here?
The fatigued girl used the rough bark of a nearby sapling to hold her steady, ignoring the aching spasms spreading through her veins as she hoisted herself into standing position. Scrapes and bruises graced her petite frame, and she found herself biting down strangled cries tickling the back of her stale throat as she took a single step forward. Willow yanked loose the buttons of her beige overcoat, revealing the blood stained tank top that was hidden underneath. At one point, the thin article of clothing seemed to be white, but now, all that she could see was the deep crimson that had soaked clean through the fabric, all manifesting from what seemed like a deep bullet wound that punctured the fragile surface of her stomach.
Her old police uniform hung from her malnourished limbs in tattered, torn pieces, giving her whole appearance a disheveled aura. She couldn't remember how long she had been there, more importantly why she had been sprawled in the woods in the first place. The only memory that she could muster was back at the station in King County, during the times when the epidemic was a measly undertone of gossip.
Willow stared blankly at the small television resting on top of the flimsy wooden table, shaking her head with a low scoff at the scene blaring from the screen. The reporter prattled on about how the dead were seemingly walking, roaming the streets in a mad scramble for a taste of delicate human flesh.
"I'd have to see it to believe it," Rick muttered, raking a large palm through his slightly tousled hair. The man's voice held a thick southern accent due to being a native of Georgia, a thin layer of stubble adorned his sharp cheekbones, azure irises alert and on the ready, as always.
"I second that notion," the rookie muttered, unruly orange locks falling over her worn complexion. She had only been an officer for a mere half a year, still being trained in the techniques of firing pistols, coached on how to handle relentless criminals, and even small things such as how to lock and unlock handcuffs.
A video that seemed to be taped from a cheap cellular device suddenly flashed onto the screen. It was a recording of a human stumbling down an aged street, only, if you took a closer look, you could just make out the large chunks of bloodied muscle hanging from its bones through the unclear haze of the foggy lenses. Deep, guttural moans escaped its ghastly lips, the poor individual holding the phone let out a disgusted cough, gagging at the what seemed to be the foul stench of the creature. It was then that the two law enforcers realized that whatever this thing was, it certainly was anything but human.
They forced themselves from the unbelievable report as a loud knock vibrated through the trivial space. Their gazes eventually settled on Shane, whose knuckles were resting firmly against the slick concrete walls, which were coated in a pale alabaster paint.
"Time to head out."
The gruff policeman's voice faded off into the distance, that being the last part of the flashback she was able to recall. She couldn't help but wonder if the outbreak had worsened, or if the illness had ceased to exist altogether. Surely the government had the ability to put a stop to it? Willow immediately forced away the much darker thoughts that threatened to surface from the recesses of her troubled mind, running a clammy hand through her oily locks. She grimaced as she realized how long it had been since she had showered. Her skin pricked with the persistent need to allow the warm water to wash away her worries, her devastating theories. Only, if the globe was as broken and battered as she thought, a good cleansing was the least of her problems.
Her fingers instinctively clutched the holster attached to her belt as she heard a loud shuffling ring out from behind her, shattering the eerie silence that had coated the area beforehand. Whoever, or whatever was toppling through the brush seemed to be horrible at masking their movements. Thin branches broke beneath the heavy soles of their shoes, the loud noise echoing through the heavy quiet every few seconds. She winced as her nine millimeter colt let out a high-pitched click as she turned the weapon off of safety, blinking as everything suddenly became uneasily still. Even the low whistling of leaves scraping together seemed to be hushed to an abrupt halt.
Willow carefully spun around on her heel, finding herself suddenly face to face with the loaded barrel of a gun, poised and ready to shoot if provoked. Her gaze slowly dragged upwards, and once her quivering eyes finally locked on the looming figure who stood in front of her, whatever courage that she had left all dissolved, landing in a broken heap at the crumbling walls of whatever self-control had previously remained within her.