A Will to Survive

Fatigue. Lacy never thought she’d see the day where that one word was the only thing she could think of. Her mind was plagued with a cloudy haze blocking out any thoughts except food, water, rest, walkers. She walked on light feet through the dense foliage of the unfamiliar forests keeping her eyes alert for any gust of wind or movement in a shadow that could pose a danger to her and her survival. That’s all life was these days, plain and simple, survival. She had been walking for about a week straight now and still hadn't come across a road. There were no cabins or creeks to mark her distance just more and more trees. She knew if she made a distinct effort to walk in a straight line for as long as possible shed have to come across something eventually. She lifted one foot after the other feeling the muscles in her legs resist her steps. She willed herself on but it wasn't going to be much longer before her body couldn't run on will alone. She nervously took her quiver from her back to count her arrows. Maybe she could hunt something to eat as long as she didn't stray from her determined straight line of travel. She stared hard at the 15 or so measly arrows she had left after having lost 20 or more over time. 15 was plenty but she didn't like seeing the number dwindle. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she ran out. She had never made an arrow before and she knew that there was balance and art to it that was far beyond her simple knowledge.

She knew no matter how much her body begged her she couldn't’ stop to rest even for a moment because she would most certainly pass out and become walker bait. Lacy took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening for the sounds of the wildlife she knew surrounded her. She needed to wait, wait for them to reveal themselves to her like they always did. After a long few minutes Lacy's ears perked up, just over her right shoulder she could hear the rustle and chirps of some sort of bird. She turned around slowly raising her bow and pulling back the string until it touched her cheek. Her feet were below her hips her shoulders square and strong as she let the arrow sail through the air and hit the bird directly in the neck. The bird died with a gurgle as lacy watched it fall to the ground. Lacy’s week arms released the bow and placed it lightly over her shoulder with a shake. Approaching her exciting new meal her heart fell. The bird was a crow. Lacy knew you weren’t supposed to eat crows. She couldn’t remember why but she remembered her grandmother’s superstitions. Crows are the messengers of death and some believed that the souls of the damned can inhabit crows although that part admittedly sounds a little silly. She sighed at the meal at her feet. She wasn't dumb enough to pass up her first meal of the day but the idea didn't sit right in her stomach. She carried the bird by its feet to the nearest clear spot where she planned to clean it and start a fire; at least the bird seemed nice and plump. As far as that bird knew the world hadn't changed a bit.

As Lacy walked around the perimeter of her temporary camp she allowed her mind to wander. The stack of fire wood under her arm was steadily growing with time; she let her guard down a fraction so as to allow her mind to drift. She had been decently fit when all this happened. She had been a swimmer and a rugby player throughout high school and college. She hadn't been remarkable but she was in the best physical shape of her life. She had a very steady balanced diet though which is a big contributor to her ability to gain muscle and strength. She had left both the swim team and the rugby team when the other girls had turned on her. Everyone had turned on her at one point or another and then one day people just began to turn, turn into something inhumane. She looked back at the bird again with distaste. She couldn't really remember how old she was. She hadn't been keeping track of the days so she may have turned 27 by now. It seemed that spring had begun to turn back into summer which means any day now could be her birthday. She ran her free hand over her fiery auburn hair that was matted and tangled from her travels. She had originally put it in a ponytail some weeks back and since had lost the hair tie within her matted rats nest. The clothes she wore weren't hers. She wondered who had packed them on their way out of Atlanta. Had they left them behind? Or had they turned? Were they still alive somewhere? Were these their favorite pants? She had worn in the sturdy Levis quite a bit they had begun to hold the shape of her belongings in her pockets. Her Swiss army knife laid flat against the bottom of her back right pocket.

The boots on her feet had a different story. One far more depressing than the mystery jeans. She had seen these boots immediately after the outbreak attached to some feet. Her first thought after the police started lining the streets was get to Gander Mountain. She was ashamed that her first instinct was looting but she knew that the supplies there were about to become invaluable and that she wasn't going to be the only person with the idea. She was a person with no close family or friends which gave her a head start while others gathered their families. When she arrived at the store the automatic doors were continually opening and closing on the body that lay carelessly in the doorway. She felt nausea threatening to take over but held her breath while she slipped past it. In the store she heard things being knocked from shelves and a few small groups of people yelling to each other. She was glad that there didn't seem to be as many people as she had expected. She felt her heart racing as she slowly walked with her back to the wall down a couple aisles grabbing a hiking pack with a buckle around the hips to hold some other supplies. She was starting to think she would get out unnoticed when she turned down another aisle and met someone else head on.

They were just as surprised as her meeting her stare. He was about her height 5’9” or 5’10” sort of scrawny and weaselly with a dark head of curls above eyes that were almost black. She took a step backwards only to see the man’s face morph into something cold and unforgiving as he took in her back pack her sleeping bag and her bow. His dark eyes had hate in them and his face a scowl much like the one she’d seen every day of her childhood. She pulled out her hunting knife from her floppy fashion boot just as he lunged forward. She watched in horror as the metal pierced his cotton blue shirt below the ribs. The shirt was being over taken by red wetness and her hands shook with fear. The man’s eyes were dinner plates as he fell to his knees in front of her gasping for air. The hunting knife had gone up into his lung from under his ribs. She rushed to his aid her hands fluttering around unsure what she should do to help him. He tried to speak but couldn't between gasps and gurgles. Lacy eyes filled with tears she wanted to stop the bleeding but didn't know if she should take the knife out. She decided to take it out and try and put pressure on the wound. Blood seeped over her hands uninhibited but her efforts. She watched the light leave his eyes and sat back in horror on the floor. She was covered in blood and had touched her face smearing it unknowingly across her forehead.

What had she just done? She was a murderer. She quickly looked around knowing this guy was quite possibly not alone. She’d been through most the store only stopping now to grab the trail food and cooking gear she could manage to carry on her back. She was about to flee the store blood covered knife in hand when his boots caught her eye. They were really expensive high end hiking boots. Water proof, Insulated, steel toe, something like that would easily be the best foot wear for where she planned to go which was as far from the infected people as possible. As far from cities and roads as she could manage to navigate. She hesitated, thinking about the shoes and whether they would even fit her. The idea of surviving was what drove her to take them off his feet and try them on quickly as the man continued to bleed next to her. They were a tad loose but a good fit none the less. The little man had small feet lucky for her. Her new boots on and her still bloody knife tucked safely into them she began to trace the outer wall back to the front of the store only barley managing to escape before hearing the discovery of the man and her boots behind her. She closed her ears to the screams of anguish and pushed forward to safety.

The snap of a twig brought her back from her thoughts in an instant. Her eyes quickly scanned the horizon as she crouched low to the ground. Something was off she just couldn't place what. She racked her brain. Then it hit her, that sound in the background. What was that sound. She listened hard for another short moment before quickly standing up and spinning around drawing back her bow. She stood there with a crossbow pointed directly at her face. The sound of breathing had been what tipped her off. He must move quietly if his breathing was what she had heard. A tall man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes stood in front of her. His eyes unwavering over his weapon he made a quick gesture to the crow with his cross bow.

“Hope ya don’t plan ta eat that.” He said flatly.

“What’s it to you?” she replied shortly with a scratchy voice that had long been out of use.

“Go ‘head then” he said with a southern accent “but them things are crawlin’ with diseases.”
Her poker face briefly faltered as she realized he was right. That was what she had forgotten. Somehow she had managed to retain her grandmother’s old wives tales but she hadn't remembered something as important as that. She couldn't tell if he had noticed but she wouldn't let it happen again. Times like now you cannot show weakness without painting a target on your back.

He watched her with skilled eyes. His knees were bent his muscles tensed. He was ready to do whatever he had to. He looked at her for a long while in silence. Her bow was held high and aimed right between his eyes. Neither one made a move or said a word for a moment that seemed to drag on forever. He scanned behind her looking for others. He saw her fire wood and her pack leaning against a tree some 20 feet away. Lacy's breathing was steady. She didn't take her eyes off the stranger. They were both feeling each other out waiting to see who would move first. She had killed before she wouldn’t hesitate to kill again if it meant surviving. Something in his face calmed her though. There was softness to his eyes that even leering over his weapon couldn’t cover. Lacy caught herself losing focus on the severity of the situation and reaffirmed her grip on her bow. Finally he let out in a low grunt.

“How many are ya?”

“What?” she replied not knowing what he meant by that. He hadn't lowered his weapon or his eyes when he reworded the question.

“Are ya alone?”

She thought about how to answer that unsure if telling him the truth was safe. Would he kill her if he knew she wouldn't be missed or looked for? Would he kill her if he found out she was lying. He saw her hesitating.

“The truth, now. Or ill spear you like a fish.” He jabbed at her slightly with his weapon. He saw her grip tighten around her bow as he did it. He hadn't forgotten that she could easily kill him right now but he wouldn't be intimidated by some little woman scurrying about in the woods. Something in her eyes changed as she said

“Yea-yes I’m alone.”

“How long ya been alone fer?” He asked with his eyes narrowed. His resolve was faltering as he felt the weakness in her words. He knew better than to lower his weapon just yet but his gut was telling him otherwise. Both of their arms were beginning to grow tired as they held every muscle perfectly still and tension surged between them.

“A while.” She replied shortly. She wasn't lying and she honestly didn't think she could have been more specific. How long had it been really? A few weeks? A few months? She couldn't really tell anymore and that aside she had been alone for a while before, only joining one group briefly since the world had ended. The pain and agony on their faces flashed through her mind and Lacy quickly shook the images loose fearing the guilt that could break her.

“You best get that out my face real soon ‘fore things get ugly.” He said with his deep husky voice.

“Lower your weapon first or ill be the one making things ugly” she countered. He narrowed his eyes at her again. She was tough. He could see that much was true. She looked like shed been out here alone for a while so he didn't have trouble believing that but she still posed a threat to him and the group back at the prison. Suddenly they heard a whistle and two men approached from behind them. She saw how he didn't move his weapon or skip even one breath. She knew immediately that the whistle had been a warning to him that they were approaching. She couldn't see any other reason someone so alert would allow anyone or anything to walk up behind him. Her eyes flickered between all of them landing on the one in front of her the most still worried he may shoot her at any moment .

“what's goin’ on here Daryl?” a tall thin man asked with one hand up in surrender the other lightly hovering near his holster. He slowly approached the two locked in arms with a much stronger and taller black man by his side.

“Beast’s givin’ me lip.” The one apparently named Daryl answered. The new comer met Daryl’s eyes for only a second before putting both his hands on the ends of their weapons and saying

“Let’s all put our weapons down and talk for a second.” She looked between the men rapidly. They seemed to be fed and relatively clean considering the way she must have looked. All the possibilities were running through her mind. What if they were going to rob her and leave her? What if they were going to rape and kill her?

She looked at all of them a little harder noticing the laugh lines by the thinner one’s eyes. He had come in without his weapon raised and was now asking to talk. He seemed level headed but could she trust that. All of the men watched her to see what she would do. She quickly realized that she was out numbered out gunned and would easily be over powered. Even if she did manage to kill Daryl before the others could stop her, what good would it do? They would only be crueler if she were responsible for his death.

With a sigh she gave up and put down her bow stepping back into a normal stance and feeling the blood rush back to her finger tips now that she wasn't squeezing her bow to keep herself from running away. With her weapon lowered she saw Daryl slowly lower his crossbow keeping it loaded but pointed down. Both the man in the back and the one who stood almost between her and Daryl, looked relived. Daryl’s face was unreadable though as he turned to Speak to both the strangers in a raspy whisper. There were nods all around and Daryl stalked away a few feet and leaned against a tree. Even now when Daryl no longer posed an immediate threat Lacy found herself watching him. Somewhere in her mind her grandmothers voice said ‘Don’t stare its rude’ and Lacy looked to the ground to hide her embarrassment.

“My name is Rick” The man who appeared to be in charge said. He had a posture that soldiers aspire to and looked to be sincere.

“This here is Daryl and that’s Tyreese” He motioned over his shoulder to the brawniest man there.

“We aren’t going to hurt you so long as you don’t point that bow at any of us.” he continued.

“We have a camp not too far from here with women and children. Daryl tells me that you’re alone out here. If you’d like you could come back with us. So long as you’ll answer a few questions first”

Lacy blinked for a second the aches and fatigues in her body finally beating out the adrenaline she had been running on this whole time. She blinked hard to keep her eyes focused and nodded her head knowing that even though she didn't think she would stay with these people she need to sleep and eat soon or she wasn't going to make it much longer. Her previous group was in her mind again.

Everyone died in this world, it wouldn’t be long before these people died to and she didn’t think she could watch that again. Ricks eyebrows furrowed as he really took her in for the first time. She seemed to be very pale and her eyes were glazed. He watched her hands shake slightly and sympathy washed over him. He had been hard on many a new comer but that’s because groups have proven to be dangerous for his people. This woman was on her own though surely they could handle her if she tried anything. Ricks main concern was that she wasn't actually alone and ambush or attack wasn’t completely out of the question but Daryl had seemed pretty sure of it when he had told Rick and Rick trusted Daryl’s instincts more than his own sometimes.

“How many walkers have you killed?”