*Daryl Dixon love story*
In a post-apocalyptic world where the dead come back and eat the living, Maevys Grimes finds herself clinging to the last shred of her humanity as she fights to keep her family alive. The blood, the loss, the gore: these thi...
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The sun burns hot on Maevys's neck as she fails another attemptat opening the doors of the convenience store. A cooler of unopened water bottles taunts her from the other side, and the frame of the door shakes as her fists frustratedly slam against the thick pane of glass. She's being reckless, that much is clear as three goons come shuffling from the nearby trees, snarling menacingly.
"Oh for fucks sake," she sighs, and unclips the machete from her belt. The first of the three is a woman donning a dirty yellow dress. The entire right side of her face is missing, likely having been gnawed off. Maeve brings her machete down over her head, the blade entering and exiting the goon's skull in one swift motion before the body hits the ground with a thud.
"Aw sweetheart, bad day?" She taunts the dead man sporting a blood stained tuxedo in her thick southern drawl. It reaches for her with a lunge, and being quite a bit shorter than the tall corpse, Maevys finds it hard to get a good shot at its head.
That's what you have to go for, the brain.
Maevys spins out of its reach before kicking in the back of its leg, bringing the goon to its knees. She uses the momentum of her spin to bring the machete around. The top of the dead man's skull slides clean off, dark blood and decay dripping down his face as he slumps the rest of the way to the dirt.
In the moment it takes to turn, the next goon is on her. It shoves her to the ground, knocking the machete from her hands. Mangled jaws attempt to sink into her flesh as the rotting body collapses on top of her. With one arm Maevys holds the living corpse away from her, and with the other she slips out the knife she keeps concealed in her cargo pants. She drives it deep into the goons temple with a shout, showering her chest and neck with sticky brown blood.
"Fuck," she groans as she shoves the heavy body off of her and pushes herself to her feet, looking down at her now ruined t-shirt.
This is life now, always fighting to stay alive. She'd been here before, but the stage is different this time. Instead of a uniform and sand she has reanimated corpses and the remaining pieces of civilization to remind her of everything she's lost.
"That was impressive" a voice calls out and Maeve turns on a dime, quick to pull the small hand gun from the back of her jeans. She stares down the barrel at the scrawny Asian man in the baseball cap. His hands fly into the air, panic on his face.
"Whoa whoa! I'm not going to hurt you I promise!" He says and she scoffs humorlessly.
"Honey I don't think you could if you tried," Maevys drawls, refusing to lower her gun. "Whatchya want?"
He gulps, keeping his hands raised slightly as he looks her over. "I saw you trying to get into the store, figured you might need some help."
She lowers her arm slightly, keeping her finger on the trigger as she studies him. He doesn't appear to have anything but a knife on him, but Maevys doesn't trust easily.
