Dead On Arrival

Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I do not own The Walking Dead *sobs*

Silence.

Nothing.

Except the occasional moan of the walkers.

It has been like this for a while now.

It used to be Dad, Merle and I. But I lost him when a herd passed through our camp. I haven't seen him or Uncle Merle since. God, I can't even think about him, if he's alive or dead walking.

A small tear escapes my eye and runs down my cheek.
Shut up, Thalia! You're a Dixon! Dixon's don't cry!
My knife hit the target with a thunk, hitting a dead centre and sinking in hilt-deep. I figured I had had enough training of throwing knives. Now for archery training, even if I had been shooting since I was five. There is always room for improvement.

I had secured a boarding school with high fences, a football pitch, sports hall, a music room to practice guitar, and a generator. I had removed all but 10 javelins from the fully stocked sport cupboard to line the fences in a defensive perimeter, reducing the numbers of walkers getting to the gates.

I was in the sports hall. I drew my bowstring back and felt the familiar enthralled feeling
that I get whenever I shoot. I breathed in and readied the arrow, when a scream echoed through the room and knocked and when I heard an ear-splitting scream, distracting me and knocking my aim off. I cursed to myself and pulled on a hockey mask. Sprinting in the direction of the scream, I hauled my quiver onto my back and knocked another arrow, prepared to draw and shoot at a moment's notice.

Once I left the hall and entered the courtyard, I glanced around. A group of people were putting up a dismal attempt at protecting themselves. As if by instinct, I evaluated their position and their weak points. They had formed a rough circle aroind a young boy with a baby on his hip and a gun in the free hand. There were quite a few people there, but it was obvious to see who was a fighter or inexperienced. The fighters that caught my eye were:
-A man with a tattered police outfit with a gun in one hand and a knife in the other,
-A woman with closely cropped (yet slightly grown out) grey hair holding a knife that was also a knuckleduster,
-A woman holding a Japanese-style katana (showing a clear understanding in the weapon that can only be gained by years of practice)
-A strangely familiar man with longish brown hair. He wielded a crossbow that with such accuracy that would have possibly been better than Dad- but hes most likely a walker back home. I quickly scaled tree and began shooting the dead down with such stealth, they dropped as if they were puppets, strings cut.

"Hey! Over here!" I yelled to the group, my voice rattling dure to how little I used it. The man leading the group (now Sherriff Woody) pulled the inexperienced fighters towards the locked gate while the others fought off the rest

Pulling the levers that open the gates (a system I devised) they swung open. They all ran in, some limping, others helping the injured. Running inside, I grabbed bandages and some antiseptic.
Twirling around, I started to get to work on the injured man with a mullet who had cut his shoulder with his machete whilt trying to kill walkers.

"Thank you, you saved us" someone said. Stopping, I realised that I still had the mask on. I had tied my head up earlier a bun, so they probably couldn't qjsee what gender I was.

" 'S okay" I mumbled while ripping off the mask and fanning my face. I had never liked the claustrophobia I would get from wearing them.

" Thalia?" A familiar voice asked.

I froze.