| is it cool to go sleep on the floor? |
It had been the same old same old for God knows how many days. After falling to exhaustion after their battle with the walkers, Ruth had never regained her energy, in fact, Bea was sure she was getting worse.
Too tired herself from supporting the weight of someone else, Bea had resorted to dragging along the woman in a little red wagon. Albeit, it probably wasn't too comfortable, but it would make do. Dragging along the little wagon gave flashbacks to Bea of her childhood. She fondly remembers building her own one with her dad, who had quite the knack for building and putting things together.
"Then you need to grab the hammer, Bumblebee."
"This one Pops?"
"No, sweetheart, that's a spanner."
If only he could see her now. She knew the tools from left to right, memorising them time and time again, and had successfully fixed the wagon before gently laying Ruth down into it. She was pulling it along with her down some country roads, occasionally stopping by a gas station to grab some snacks, but she hadn't been granted any luck so far, the few she had entered were already ransacked or filled to the brim with walkers.
"I don't know what to do, Ruth, guess we've just gotta keep going," Bea spoke her thoughts out loud.
But then a voice spoke back to her, "no matter what."
And Bea would stick by that mantra. It's what led her to taking shelter in a small house. It was rundown, she wasn't sure if it was from the apocalypse or maybe it wasn't in the best condition in the first place. She put that down to the needles that littered the floors of one room, two bodies now lying there after she killed their reanimated forms.
It was just something else she'd have to get used to seeing. Just like Ruth getting worse over time. She didn't know what was wrong with the woman, she was fully well on the day they fought those walkers out in the field, but after that, things went downhill. Food was scarce, and most of the time Bea didn't know whether to give the food to Ruth to get her better, or eat it herself so she had the strength to pull along the woman with her. Because, walking for hours on end with the weight of someone else wasn't the easiest job in the world.
Most of the time she did give it to Ruth.
In her right mind, she had to prioritise the health of the woman who saved her life. So when they found another room of the house, one that was sat enough to be in, Bea hauled Ruth onto the sofa and found a blanket to cover her shivering, yet sweating form.
Bea slept on the floor.
She didn't think she'd be sleeping on the cold hard ground. Fortunately, she's never been in such a position where that was the only option in her life. An upgrade was granted when she explored the secured rooms upstairs and managed to drag a raggedy pink armchair back down for her to keep watch in case other walkers found them. Two more of them were taken out in the succession of gaining the piece of furniture. Although Bea kept picking at the loose threads to make sure there was a smooth surface, she couldn't deny it was comfy.
Sometimes Ruth would murmur things in her sleep, which, although she didn't want to admit it, would scare Bea a bit, so much so she'd nearly fall out of the chair.
"AH!"
"Ruth?"
"...no more pickles."
"Christ almighty."
She so badly wanted Ruth to be awake enough to scold her, tell her everything would be alright, just anything to offer reassurance. But somehow she didn't think the woman would be getting better anytime soon.
After running out of food in that house, Bea took initiave and made the next decision to leave once more. And off they went again.
Same old, same old.
Walking down the same dirt roads, with the same trees, and the same abandoned cars.
If only she could drive. Well, who would be against her even trying, not like there was anyone around to tell her otherwise?
No.
Who was she kidding?
Bea could appreciate that she was a smart girl, but she knew nothing about cars. They'd be worse off if she was driving.
She continued to walk with Ruth in tow, clowns to the left of her and jokers to the right. Stuck in the middle with the occasional walker daring to come near. Bea had gotten pretty good with a smaller weapon she had found recently.
A crowbar.
Yes, as dodgy as that house was, and as much as it gave her the creeps, it gave her something more practical to bring with her than a heavy plank of wood.
"It really doesn't make any sense, does it Ruth?"
Bea continued walking, still unable to process the position they were in.
"I mean, two months or so ago none of this had even reached our country yet."
The walkers had only started spreading whilst Bea was staying with the Atkins. Before then she was having some of the best times of her life.
"I just... don't know how much more I can take of this stopping and starving and, well, you know, just doing nothing."
Bea was well aware they weren't going to be blessed with a normal life ever again but she didn't want to keep going the same way with the same 24 hours and 7 days a week.
"Don't get me wrong. I'll find my mum and dad, and my brothers and sister too, but, I just, help me out here Ruth?" Bea was struggling to find a reasonable outcome to her thoughts. The squeaks from the wagon were all that was heard and so when Bea turned around, expecting Ruth's sleeping form, she was shocked to say the least.
She was horrified.
How didn't she notice?
So caught up in her own self she didn't even check on the woman behind her.
Ruth was a beautiful, radiant woman with short blonde curls to die for. She always dressed modestly and gave the best hugs.
Now, the woman was no longer human, but a pale, growling walker.
Ruth was a walker.
YOU ARE READING
signal | the walking dead
Fanfiction"If Shane tries to tell me something one more time..." Bea was stranded. Lost. And she had no way of getting in contact with her family. On a mission to get back to her loved ones she faces some obstacles along the way, where strangers become family...
