When a beaten and lost, near-dead girl walks up upon the gates of Jackson unannounced, people are bound to be suspicious of why she's shown up. But, when she reveals that she knows something about an organization in Seattle planning to come to Jacks...
"No-one likes a mad woman; you made her like that."
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INTRODUCTION The Rattlers
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Willow had counted that it had been almost thirty days after she was initially captured by the Rattlers. Day after day she was used as bait to capture Clickers, slavery, and of course, for personal entertainment. The Rattlers were a cult of psychos, to put it lightly. After the cordyceps virus initially migrated to human brains in 2033, the whole world broke apart. Religions and race didn't break apart the world anymore, and naturally, groups formed. Some groups, like FEDRA and the WLF, had massive funding, and were normally extremely corrupt in how they controlled their people. Smaller groups also formed, like Jackson County, small villages and towns banded together and created safe spaces, or crazy psycho gangs.. And then, cults formed. In the United States, there were two. The Scars, and the Rattlers, and the Rattlers had just so happened to capture Willow.
Now for the Rattlers, after two months, the prisoners would be hung on sticks at the shoreline of the Californian island. But for Willow, since her small, limp and exhausted body was no use to the Rattlers anymore, she was dragged down to the hanging posts a whole month early. Her wrists felt alive when they uncuffed her for the first time since she had been captured, but they soon roared with pain and fire as they tied her up to one of the posts, letting her head hang down. Willow's legs were quickly tied up and they left her to lay there, checking on every other post to make sure the ropes were tightly wrapped around their limbs.
It was like a scene in a horror movie. Every person who was still alive was barely breathing, their neck sore from hanging low. You couldn't tell who was alive and who was dead. Willow tried to take deep breaths, savoring the air that was being taken from her as her body slowly collapsed underneath the harsh restraints. She glanced over to her wrists, watching as the knot started falling loose under her movements. Slowly but surely, one slipped loose, sending her body sideways and shifting in a horribly uncomfortable position. Willow groaned and attempted to maneuver her other wrist, letting it release from the wooden stake. Her body flipped forward, and if she hadn't moved her incredibly sore arms in front of her face, she would've been knocked out from the impact against the wood that she was once tied to. Using the half upside-down position she had fallen into, she pulled her feet restraints loose, letting her whole entire body fall limp onto the sand.
Willow didn't even know how long she had been out on the stakes, but even if it was for a few moments after the Rattlers walked away from the area, it felt like a lifetime. Her weak and sore legs made an attempt to walk across the sandy beach and make it to the small metal boats sitting on the shore. Her legs gave out once, twice, too many times to count, and she just wanted the blinding pain in her head to go away. Willow's feet were bare, and they were blistering badly under the harsh qualities of the sand. Out of the numbness in her hands, she only then realized that they hadn't shaved her head yet. She was lucky, her blonde hair was one of the things she truly loved about herself.
She tried to keep her head low as she passed the hundreds of people, dead and alive, tied up to the stakes littered across the shoreline. The metal boat was just in her reach.
"How the fuck did she get out?!" A man yelled. Even though every inch of her body screamed at her to stop, Willow tried her best to run towards the boats. "Shit! She's running!" The girl knew that if she made it onto the metal vehicle, the Rattlers chasing after her just wouldn't bother going after her. They put her out on the stakes for a reason, after all. Quickly, she found the rope to the boat and untied it, only to be pushed into the water. Luckily, though, she had spotted a knife in one of the benches. So, she leaped up out of the water and grasped it in her wet palm, shoving it into one of the Rattlers' chests.
"Fuck! She's armed!" They fell to the ground, sputtering out as ocean water entered into their lungs. Willow pulled the knife out of their chest and hopped into the boat, pulling at the motor as it sped off into the sea. As the Californian Island disappeared from view, she relaxed her muscles, letting the pain begin to fall away. She knew that as soon as she reached land she'd have to find something to eat, but she wanted to wait until she needed to think about where she was going.
Luckily, there was a map resting near her feet. It was spattered with blood, dirt, and water, just like her. The red dot that designated where Willow once was had the label of Santa Catalina Island, and it was just off of the coast of California. The map was obviously from pre-outbreak times, as every place was labeled with actual place names, not by gangs and groups that were known to locate around each area. She planned to hide out on the shore of Los Angeles, she knew it was a city-like area, so she could easily hide and get some supplies on her way. After, she hoped to trek for around eleven days to get to Salt Lake City. The Rattlers had discussed the fact that there was a small group there, so she could get there immediately.
Somehow, Willow was oddly calmed by the sea crashing against the metal boat she rode into the distance. She rested her eyes for just a moment, but her body soon collapsed into exhaustion, and the boat began to direct itself forward for a few hours of the journey.
