Foster watched silently as the trees of the countryside slowly melded into houses, as the houses slowly melded into the outskirts of Atlanta. Her mind reeled as she looked at the discarded vehicles that lined the streets, the trash that was strewn across the pavement. She chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, silently praying that they would find help, that they would find an answer at the CDC.
"I can see the gears turnin' in your head Fos," Daryl muttered, sparing her a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. Foster took a deep breath, pulling at her fingers as she thought of what to say, her gaze still wandering out the window.
"Last time I was in the city I was almost lunch," Foster sighed, looking over to her dad, "Goin' back is makin' me nervous." Daryl nodded, patting Foster's leg with his free hand. A small frown tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes not leaving the road.
"I'm here with ya," Daryl said softly, sparing Foster a rare smile, "Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen to you as long as I'm around." A small smile etched its way onto Foster's face as she looked over to him, nodding slowly. Foster's attention quickly turned to the convoy ahead of them as the tail lights of Lori's SUV flashed red. She watched silently as everyone pulled over, quickly coming to a stop on the curb. Foster's eyes wandered to the giant silver building that sat to the right of the road. A large lawn was splayed out in front of the building, bodies littering the green grass. Foster took a shallow breath before shoving the passenger door open, nimbly hopping out of the truck. The stench was the first thing to hit her, the foul smell of rotting flesh seeming to punch her across the face. Foster gagged lightly, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth and nose, her eyes immediately beginning to water. She felt her stomach drop at the sight of all the bodies that were scattered across the ground, flies buzzing around them in thick swarms. Foster clenched her jaw, spinning around to grab her backpack and quiver, quickly shrugging them on before gripping her bow tightly in her left hand. Her heart thundered in her chest as she turned back to face where the group was now gathering beside the RV. "C'mon kiddo," Daryl said softly from the other side of the truck, jerking his head towards the group as he slammed his door shut. Foster nodded, following close beside him. Bodies were strewn across barricades that blocked off the road to the CDC, rotting corpses bloating and cooking in the Georgia sun. Foster coughed into her elbow as she once again covered the lower half of her face in a sorry attempt to ward off the scent of death and decay. Daryl let out a shallow breath, tugging Foster closer to his side as they followed after the group, a look of disgust stuck to his face as he took in the scene.
"There's so many," Foster whispered, "They're all dead." Daryl nodded, frowning as he gave her a tight squeeze.
"Nock an arrow, be ready," he murmured as he let go of Foster. She nodded, quickly yanking an arrow from her quiver. The group gagged and coughed as they moved forward. Foster walked silently beside Carl and Lori, Daryl following close behind her as he surveyed the dead for any danger, his crossbow gripped tightly in both hands. The sound of the flies buzzing was almost deafening as they moved closer, deeper into the sea of corpses. Carl whimpered from beside Foster as they stepped around a dead woman, half of her skull missing, her rotting teeth jutting out of her skinless jaw. Foster held her breath as she continued to follow after Rick and Shane, tearing her eyes away from the woman's rotted face. Shane stopped, turning to the group as he cocked his gun.
"All right, everybody. Keep moving. Go on," he whispered, waving to everyone forward, "Stay quiet. Let's go." Every cough, every groan, every pebble sent skittering across the pavement made Foster's blood run cold.
"Keep moving. Stay together," Rick urged as they passed a military checkpoint sign, the group's pace quickening as they moved towards the doors. Foster's eyes landed on a dead soldier, slumped over in front of the neon sign, his brain splattered across the bright paint. She swallowed bile that rose in the back of her throat, speeding up as she moved forward. "Keep moving. Come on," Rick whispered loudly.
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We're The Ones Who Live {Carl Grimes x Reader)
FanfictionA 'The Walking Dead' fanfiction Foster Dixon was born for this, born to survive the apocalypse. A product of a flimsy relationship, Foster was dumped on her father's porch as a newborn, never knowing her mother. Her father, Daryl Dixon, did his best...
