The Darkest Storm

Thunder roars as the rain pelts against the half shattered glass window. It wakes her with a start, although she was never really asleep. It has been this way for a long time. From the short beams of trickling sunlight that come through the very same window, she knows it’s almost dawn, and they should be moving out very soon.

She feels a slight nudge against her hip that causes her to look down with her hand held tightly around her uncle’s bow and arrow, only to see her dog Jasper looking straight back at her with the same exhausting glance.

Darcy sighs; resting her head back and pushing her long, wavy, chestnut hair back with a shaky hand. Sweat falls from her face, cutting clean lines through the rough dirt patches of her once porcelain skin. The twenty-six year old closes her eyes once more with her hand resting on her forehead, wondering if the miserable Georgia heat will ever stop, especially with the intensity of the storm.

It’s nights like these – she grimaces as she wipes something of questionable ooze off of her earlobe – that makes Darcy wonder if her endless pursuit of safety and survival is really worth it.

Her mind wanders to the pistols in her holster laying two inches away from her, tempting herself the slightest to see if she would end the misery of being scared and alone for good. It doesn’t come to her though; she’s stronger than that. An abandoned, one-story house keeps her and her German shepherd safe for now, but she knows very well that the feeling of sweet serenity doesn’t last for long.

The dog wasn’t always there to give Darcy a sense of amity. It was just a few days after she left her old group when she began to wonder if leaving was really the right decision based on the repetitive empty growling of her gut. But she soon came across the small beast, scrounging around in a dumpster that may have not seemed like that bad of an idea at the time.

She remembers the lurching in her stomach at the sight of real, living food waving it’s scruffy tail back at her while staring into the dark iris’s that almost seemed like the dog was actually smiling up at her. Of course, that’s what put Darcy over the edge and what ultimately made her put her bow down…well, that and the fact Jasper, whom Darcy calls the dog, started to lick the arrow as it was pointed at him.

A slight grunt from outside makes Darcy get up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat. Her white tee shirt hangs loosely over her athletic body, and her newly found dark blue skinny jeans just fit her when she wore her brown belt.

She makes her way over to the broken window, looking to see if she can make anything out of the shadows. The rain has stopped pouring and instead comes to an easy fall. Darcy gazes the soaking trees, catching every movement that is a mere flicker in her eye. Soon, she sees them, the two walkers that carry the all too familiar scent of death.

Darcy hides from view, veering her eyes down at her scuffed up boots and taking a deep breath before repositioning herself and stretching her bow. With the release of her breath and her solid hazel eyes fixed on the target, she lets the arrow go flawlessly, landing straight into the eye of one of the walkers.

With a slight smile on her face, she reaches back to grab another arrow for the second walker without hesitation, but she sees another bow with neon green feathers already protruding from the fallen body.

“Shit.” She mumbles, crouching down and leaning against the wall with bow and arrow in place in her hands.

Darcy knows there is a different kind of danger that resides with other people. Witnessing the destruction in her own old group, Darcy has to constantly remind herself that she made the right decision to leave, even if it meant being on her own. The guilt from leaving her friends and even family behind still weighs itself on top of her shoulders like a ton of bricks not because she just left, but because she left without doing something to stop what was happening to their leader.

She shakes her shoulders loose to get rid of the memorable feeling and focuses on the thought of the unfamiliar arrow. This other person was another danger Darcy has to get through, because even people themselves can’t be trusted anymore.

Darcy hears the front door of the house creek open and Jasper is immediately in an alerted stance. She looks down at him and whistles as silently as possible, telling the dog to move forward. Darcy opens the once bedroom door slowly while inching her head out but she sees no movement thus far.

Darcy steps out of the bedroom and keeps her back hugging the wall while her eyes are fixed on the end of the hallway. Moving slowly outwards she puts one foot carefully in front of the other, not making a sound. Suddenly, she hears a soft thud coming from down the hall that makes her jumps in another doorway out of sight with Jasper close.

The rain has completely stopped then, and the sound of her own heartbeat is loud in her ears and hard in her throat. Darcy focuses; closing her eyes and leaning back carefully against the wall inside the small room. Her eyes suddenly flicker open, hearing the softest footsteps of the other person now getting too close to where she stood.

Darcy turns her head slightly, noticing the sun has finally begun to rise and she can just make out the shadow that is standing outside her door. The figure stops, and she is sure that if she doesn’t hold her breath they’ll be able to hear her from the other side – correction – they’ll be able to hear Jasper from the other side.

Darcy begins to silently plead with the dog that stands wagging his tail looking up to her with the same damn smile plastered to his face as before, as if he’s completely forgotten that they are supposed to be hiding. Granted, all of the small beast’s actions would be a complete laugh later if it weren’t for it’s heavy breathing that seemed to be at a rapid pace of a thousand breaths per minute.

Creeks from the worn out and untended to wooden floorboards echo throughout the small house, causing Darcy to bite her bottom lip and beg quietly to herself that this person will just go away. She takes another step to back herself into the wall even further but it is to the point where she feels she may eventually just become the wall.

The tip of an arrow loaded into what - Darcy can’t tell yet – presses against the door slowly as it too creeks open. Then, to test her nerves further, the figure kicks the door wide open with such a force that it slams into the wall and bounces back towards him.

A crossbow points into the darkness, just to Darcy’s left. She stays still but curses to herself when Jasper decides to duck back into the corner with a playful yelp.

With heavy breaths the man drops his weapon. “Jus’ a damn dog.” He whispers, walking into the room and reaching a steady hand out for Jasper to sniff. “Ay buddy, it’s okay.”

“Put down your weapon.” Darcy emerges from the shadows, fingers on the nock of her arrow that deems her threatening ability to take him down effortlessly. She bounces subtly on her feet, moving across the room when she sees him freeze for a moment at her abrupt voice.

She turns her soft features into a scowl at her unwilling intruder as he spins around on his knees, rather than dropping his weapon as told and now creating a more uncomfortable scenario where Darcy now curses to herself thinking she may have been better off slipping away quietly.

“Did you hear me?” Darcy stresses, irritation and alertness flashing in her amber eyes as the man takes a wary step forward and then immediately back when he sees Darcy stretch her bow back a bit further at his advance. “Put. It. Down.”

“Nah, ain’t no way.” He spat. “Don’ know ya, can’t trust ya.”

“Why don’ you go on ‘n drop yours?” He motions towards the ground with the tip of his arrow. “Goin’ around packin’ heat like that…don’ wanna hurt yourself.”

She’s not daft at the hidden tone the country accent growls towards her, mocking her. It’s raspy, and Darcy can just make out the similar dirt patches and exhausted expression that matches her own. She notices the hanging string of squirrels around his neck, how his blue eyes burned into hers with such intensity, but Darcy does not drop his gaze or her weapon. If anything, her determination intensifies.

“Go on, now.” The man motions again, taking a confident step closer to Darcy. Jasper whines from beside his leg, and she sees the man’s glance shift downwards to the dog in an instant. It was as good a time as ever to take her chances.

Darcy ducks out of the room to make her escape, but the twang of a bow suddenly brings her to a halt, throwing herself against the wall just outside the room. A strange, sharp sensation stings at her left shoulder. She brings up her right hand, seeing the thick liquid seep from the gash that she still can’t seem to pinpoint where it came from – it wasn’t her bow so that must mean…

Darcy brings her eyes up and a bow with the same neon green feathers protrudes from the drywall right in front of her forehead. She breathes heavily; only moments have passed from where she had tried to make an escape until now. The man has lowered his bow just slightly from his eye line, glaring at her through his sky-blue hues.

“Did you just shoot me?” Darcy asks, bewildered.

He snarls behind his bow, “Ya’ll expect me to –“

The piercing sound flung across the hall and into the wall behind him – that he had to dodge just at the last moment, mind you – cuts his sharp reply short and he turns, with narrowed eyes and a dropped jaw, to find himself absolutely dumbfounded at the knife she’d thrown inches deep just where he stood only moments ago.

He looks back to where she was crouched expecting a returning glare, but instead hears the front door of the house being thrown open with the dog barking just on her heels. This turned out to be one hell of a day, he thinks as he tares out of the room after her.

Darcy has just managed to feel the dense, humid air of her outside surroundings as her feet land on the first few white wooden steps of the front porch. She begins to think the intruder has decided to leave her be when hands wrap around the collar of her shirt so forcefully that it sends her fumbling to the ground and into the mud just beneath the steps.

An instant reaction causes her to roll onto her back and sit up slightly, pointing her gun and about to pull the trigger at him but stops when she notices his current stance. His mouth drops, and he takes a step back from what his eyes gaze upon behind her.

Hisses and snarls release a small whimper from her lungs as she pushes herself up slightly with the palms of her hands, taking in her now deadly surroundings. Walkers have somehow encircled the abandoned home, and Darcy instantly froze as she witnesses the glazed over eyes suddenly focus on her, her dog, and the man behind her.

It all seems to happen very slowly. The rotating of the bodies towards the three of them, the first step taken before they are too close. Darcy turns her head at her bow lying next to her; the only thing she seems to focus on in that moment. Suddenly, she is brought back to reality when a walker falls with a thud in front of her, and a vibrant green tipped arrow sticking out of it’s nose.

Darcy rolls over to her bow and stands, firing as many arrows as she can as she steps backwards with ease. One by one they fall, and she soon stands next to the man that she tried to flee from only moments ago, fighting side by side.

Then, something happens. Darcy doesn’t know where Jasper was, and the oncoming walkers further away begin to turn and focus on the dog that is now barking at the herd. They have surrounded him.

“No, Jasper!” She yells, turning towards the walkers entrapping her friend and pulling out her gun once more.

A hand tugs roughly on her arm, “Let’s go!” The man yells, pulling her into the opposite direction, which was now deemed safe for now. Darcy watches in horror as her only friend begins to be attacked with no escape or way for them to reach him.

“C’mon!”

Darcy has dealt with death before, and the intensity of what it entails. She has lost many people, including her friends and family. But somehow in the midst of everything, Jasper is the worst she has to witness after being her only company for so long a time.

Her heart broken but staying strong, Darcy and the stranger run as fast as they can away from the walking dead, the man leading the way. Soon, they came to a clearing in the woods and they stop to catch their breath.

Darcy stands breathing heavily, her hands on her hips and her eyes fixed on the direction from where they just came. The man watches her as he re-loads his crossbow with another arrow.

“Sorry ‘bout your dog.” He says with a grunt, snapping the arrow in place.

Darcy annoyingly glances over at him while narrowing her eyes and shooting daggers at his figure. It was his entire fault this has happened anyway, if he would have just left them alone Jasper would still be alive and hopping around the forest much like an amused bunny rather than a dog by now.

He read her hard features immediately, “Anyway,” he glances away quickly, “’M sure your group’s waitin’.”

Darcy lets out a weak laugh, “I’m sure.”

His light blue eyes are sharp and steady as they take in her appearance. Darcy doesn’t notice as she subtly wipes the blood from her arm.

“You alone?” He asks quietly as he already figures he knows the answer.

“For awhile now.” She nods, ripping the hem of her shirt that was too large anyway and began to wrap it around the wound.

“Guess ya comin’ with me then.” He turns away and takes a few strides before Darcy again lets out a laugh, this one more sincere than the last.

“I’m sure that will go over well,” He turns back to face her. “Right after you tell whomever the hell you’re with that we tried to kill each other.”

He shrugs, not at all fazed, “One less mouth ta feed.” The man turns away once more, walking towards the woods again and yelling back over his shoulder, “Good luck.”

Darcy puts her hands on her hips again and closes her eyes. She knew she was in bad shape, and needed food and rest. What was she to do anyways? She has no supplies other than what she carried, and her only true companion is now lying on the forest floor being scavenged for food by the ones who are never satisfied.

Darcy shudders and wipes her eyes. Maybe a few nights wouldn’t be so bad?

Darcy sighs heavily, looking up at the woods where the man disappeared. She wasn’t worried about finding him, knowing she could track well. Did she really want to risk getting attached to this group? No. She’d stay for a few nights, and leave.

Some company would do her good anyways.

Darcy hesitantly jogs after the man into the woods, catching up to him with ease. The morning sun was finally shining, and the waiting of the night was over.

“Change ya mind?” He says, not looking back at her and keeping his nonchalant pace.

“Just for a few days.” Darcy responds, wrapping her bow around her shoulder.

“If Shane’ll let you. No guarantees.” He stops, looking at the ground then following the rustle in the leaves that Darcy easily picks up on.

“What animal was it?” She asks, standing and watching him closely.

“Deer. Shot ‘er down not too long ago.” The man stands on a large rock and peers out into the woods in front of them. “Ya got a name?”

“Darcy Shaw.” She says, standing in front of the rock below him with her hand shielding the bright sun from her eyes. “You?”

“Daryl Dixon.”