HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER SIX !
[ season two, episode one ]
The next few days after the CDC's destruction passed silently — full of unspoken grief for the members of the group they had lost in such a short space of time. Amy, Jim, Jacqui . . . Their deaths hit some much harder than others. Sage was particularly affected ( having grown inordinately close to Jacqui over the course of the apocalypse ) and she barely glanced up from the sophisticated book Dale gave to her during the first three hours.
Marley made sure to give her some space.
Nevertheless, they were headed to Fort Benning. It was a last resort, wasting fuel and food and important supplies on the long trip, but spending another moment in Atlanta city was like deliberately continuing to step into Death's destructive path, knowing what It was capable of — the devastation and grief It could cause. They weren't willing to lose anyone else. That inevitable brutal death Jenner mentioned . . . well, everyone was evidently trying to steer clear of it by reluctantly agreeing with Shane's idea of taking the precarious endeavour to Fort Benning. It was time to begin a new chapter, in a new place.
This was their chance and they were taking it.
"So, we're here?"
During the trip, Marley had situated herself at the front of the RV beside Glenn. He was studying a road-map, sporadically glancing out of the window and nodding in approval when the vehicles turned a corner that would indefinitely lead them to Fort Benning — according to the map.
Marley tapped her finger against the rippled paper, tracing a thin, red-line with her nail. A road, which she assumed would take them onto a highway in just a few minutes time.
"Yep. That's us." Glenn said. He looked at the map pensively. "We should be . . . right about there."
He prodded a singular point in the red coil. Marley imagined that was the RV, bobbing along the road.
She sighed, leaning back in the seat with crossed arms. "I've never been able to read maps. My mom used to stick a GPS on the windshield and she'd follow that instead."
For a split second, Marley was slightly taken aback by how openly she mentioned her mother. Without hesitation. That hadn't happened before with anyone other than Sage. She pressed her lips together as if forcing the onslaught of words to dissolve on the tip of tongue, withdrawing from the conversation. But, Glenn didn't seem to mind. He merely shrugged, scratching the back of his head where his slightly dirtied cap rested.
"I wish I had a GPS right now," he murmured, gesturing to the paper that was marred with splotches of old coffee. "Trying to work out the next couple of miles with this is giving me a headache."
Marley chuckled, rubbing the tip of her nose with the knuckle of her forefinger. A habit when she was amused. She inherited that from her mother, along with her looks. Everyone used to say they were carbon-copies of one another, and that Sage shared more similarities with her father than her mother. That was true. Sometimes, more often than not, it was like looking into the emerald eyes of late Connell Whitman.
Marley missed him . . . and her mother. But a fragment of their parents souls still lived within their children — both inside and out. They were still with the sisters. Just not physically.
At least, that's what Marley would say to Sage to make her feel better.
"Oh, Christ." Shane muttered.
Both Glenn and Marley turned to see what he was looking at out of the RV's windshield.
It was the highway. A highway from hell. Every inch of the asphalt was covered in inanimate cars, and abandoned possessions from previous owners had spilled across the road like an oil spill. There were numerous vehicles that had been flipped over on their sides, a cluster of damaged trucks on one segment of the road, blocking the RV's route to a potentially better future. It was a minefield.
"It's just our luck." Marley said to Glenn. He nodded in agreement.
Honestly, it was an absolute miracle the world hadn't tossed them a "thanks for trying" certificate yet.
Daryl's motorcycle rumbled over to the idle RV. Dale rolled the grimy window down and asked hopefully, "See a way through?"
The redneck tipped his head toward a somewhat clear route through the maze of rusted cars. The RV began gliding across the debris-covered road again, and everyone aboard the caravan stared at their surroundings in disbelieving, morbid awe.
"Uh. . ." Glenn mused, staring at the map. Marley gripped the back of his chair and peered over his shoulder. "Maybe we should just go back. There's an interstate bypass—"
"We can't spare the fuel." Dale said with a grim upturn of his lips.
Marley sighed, "Great."
She looked out of the window by Glenn's seat. Vehicles were inches away from scratching the side of the RV to shreds. Dale had to precariously manoeuvre around a large van, taking extra caution to avoid the flung open passenger door. Inside, slumped over the steering wheel like a discarded rag-doll, was a body. It's puckered skin had peeled back from it's forehead, revealing torn muscles and fragments of cracked and pasty bone. Marley's hand flew to her mouth.
She still hadn't become fully habituated to the hundreds upon hundreds of mangled bodies and gruesome sights the apocalypse brought to the table. She doubted she ever would. Not properly, at least.
There was a sudden clank from the hood of the RV.
Plumes of white smoke billowed from the metal slats, causing Dale to grumble beneath his breath in frustration. While frowning, everyone simultaneously followed the older man onto the asphalt outside, where they were soon joined by the remaining members of their group.
"I said it. Didn't I say it?" Dale grumbled, inspecting the hissing radiator with a scowl. "A thousand times. Dead in the water."
"Problem, Dale?" Shane asked. He held a shotgun by his hip — taking extra precaution.
Dale threw his hands into the air irritably. "Just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of . . ."
There was a long pause as the old man slowly came to his senses. Marley raised a brow and glanced over her shoulder at the perpetual stream of abandoned cars. It was a goddamned goldmine for supplies.
"Okay. That was dumb." Dale said.
They hesitantly watched Daryl rummage through the cluttered boot of a grimy car.
"If we can't find a radiator hose here. . ." Shane sighed and bobbed his head in amusement.
"There's a whole bunch of stuff we can find." Daryl added, turning a book over in his hand. He threw it back into the trunk.
"I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start." T-Dog stated.
"Maybe some water." Carol piped up. "Or food."
"This is a graveyard." Lori interjected warily, pointing out the obvious — no matter how morbid. She glanced over the cars, her features tugged into a taut grimace. "I don't know how I feel about this."
But nobody payed her any mind.
Survival reigned over normality — as it had done for many weeks now — and they each individually meandered through the maze of vehicles, searching desperately for the things they needed to live.
Sage joined Dale atop the RV, pressing a pair of binoculars to her eyes with a gleeful smile. Marley followed the others, avoiding cars containing fly-infested bodies, merely throwing open trunks and rifling through empty cans of food and bottles of water. She did find a packet of unopened crisps during the hunt, so she shoved them into her bag with pouted lips.
It wasn't until she came to a small car in the centre of the huddle that she found something truly worthwhile.
She crawled over the driver's seat and slipped into the back. Clearly, the owner of the vehicle had made an unsuccessful attempt to flee Atlanta city, assuming the worst. Their weapon of choice had been a machete. It was laid over the seats, gleaming beneath the peach sunlight that seeped through the grimy windows. The weapon was clean. Nothing had been slain using this blade in particular.
Marley hummed in approval and adjusted her grip around the handle.
Currently, all she had to ward off walkers was a small knife. The machete would be perfect. She wouldn't have to get too close to the gnashing undead using the elongated blade, meaning she was at a smaller risk of becoming the ravenous creatures personal banquet.
On her way out of the car, she made sure not to slam the door. Back Before, her father used to scold her for it. He said it was a moody-teenager-thing, and if there was one thing he didn't want, nor have the energy to deal with, it was a moody teenager. Her Mom used to agree.
Marley smiled fondly at the memory, watching the machete dangle from her fingers and shiver in the breeze like a wind-chime.
Then her body collided with the rough asphalt.
"Hey—"
Marley's mouth was quickly smothered by a hand. Gasping, she peeled her face away from the ground and looked into the dark and brooding eyes of Shane Walsh. Anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach when she noticed the uncharacteristic expression of panic on his face. He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed to the bottom of the car.
"Underneath." he whispered. "Now."
She frowned and looked into the distance. Her breath hitched immediately.
A huddle of stumbling, snarling walkers were headed directly toward the survivors. They moved as one, slipping down the highway like a flash-flood — sure to inflict devastation to everything in their path.
Shane nudged Marley toward the car with more force than he initially intended. Barely noticing the shove, the girl ducked down and shuffled beneath the vehicle apprehensively, slapping a hand to her mouth to muffle the sound of her own ragged breathing. The undercarriage pressed against her back, and the pain the metal inflicted upon her spine made it harder to keep herself composed.
The walkers began passing by within seconds.
The shuffles of their feet echoed across the cluttered highway like a death toll — guttural growls growing louder and louder. Each scuff of a shoe made Marley's heart lurch alarmingly fast in her chest. The undead were terrifyingly close. If she wanted to, Marley could reach out and curl a hand around a walker's ankle . . . if she had a death wish, that is. They were that close. Far too close for comfort — far too close for Marley to believe she would make it out of there alive.
Tears sprung to her eyes.
In that fleeting moment she thought about Sage. Her blood ran cold at the immediate assumptions she made about her sister's wellbeing. Sage was with Dale the last Marley saw, standing on top of the RV — the safest place to be in this situation. Dale would have made sure she was safe. Of course he would. He would put her life before his own in a heartbeat.
Still, Marley didn't feel relieved.
She glanced to the side, gritting her teeth.
The only person she could see was T-Dog . . . and he wasn't hiding beneath a car. Instead, his crimson-stained fingers were pressed against a gaping wound sliced into his arm, blood gushing onto his shirt, trousers, the ground — everywhere. His face had paled considerably. Eyes drooping. Mouth hanging open. He was in too much pain and shock to comprehend the situation. He didn't have time to hide.
Was she going to watch him die if she didn't help?
Marley gnawed on her lower lip and pushed her hands against the ground, preparing to run toward the man in need. However, she breathed a quick sigh of relief when the sound of scuffing shoes brought her attention to Daryl. The redneck had found him. He dragged T-Dog to the floor and dumped the body of a newly-deceased walker atop his bloody figure. It was to conceal the smell, disguise them from the snarling undead. Smart.
The walkers began ebbing away, pulling away from land like the ocean.
Marley didn't tear her eyes away from the vulnerable men until a scream tore through the balmy air.
Hesitantly, she shuffled out from beneath the car, gripping the hilt of her machete tightly. The walkers were gone, fortunately. They staggered away into the distance, searching for a new source of food, disappearing in plain sight. Marley's anxiety still remained. The scream led her to assume the absolute worse.
She saw Lori.
"Lori!" she cried, running through the maze of cars. The mother's eyes were wide and frenzied, and she latched a shivering hand around Marley's arm when the girl skidded to a stop. "Who — who screamed?"
Lori gulped, staring into the dark forest. "It was Sophia."
A mix of dread and relief and shock sucker-punched Marley in the gut.
"Sophia? What happened?"
Lori found it difficult to speak for a moment. Sweat broke out on her forehead, a sheen that was illuminated by the setting sun. She clutched Marley's arm, her grip like a vice in an attempt to steady herself, and she shook her head grimly. The blonde girl's heart sunk.
"Two walkers chased her into the woods. Rick went after her."
That would explain Lori's state, then. Her husband had senselessly put himself into danger, and — once again — she was left alone. If he didn't come back, Lori knew she would have to explain the situation to Carl. That his father was dead . . . truly dead this time. There was no bringing him back. No reuniting by some miracle.
Marley reassured Lori with a soft smile.
"He'll be fine." she assured. "It's Rick — I've never met a man as brave as him before."
Lori's lips gratefully drew up into a tight smile. She placed a hand atop Marley's head and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her upper-back. Her bulging eyes didn't shrink; they were still inhumanely wide with panic. Marley's heart didn't settle, either. But the short embrace managed to reassure them both, at least to some degree. The flames of hope inside roared to life.
They were going to be fine.
Perhaps Marley spoke too soon.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
i looked this morning and this
book has 600 reads WHAT. thank
you so much omg. i really appreciate
the love <3
on another note, i'm gonna write a
ftwd fic besties.
but i can't start it for the life of
me or think of a decent plot
rip. send help.
anyway hope you enjoyed!
sorry for the shitty chapter