Nothing But Dead (The Walking Dead Fanfic) Book 2

Burn

They saw the smoke burning in a distance away from the prison. The sudden burning of a non-dry woodlands had gotten the dwellers inside the prison wondering what had been going on out in the world, so close to home.

Daryl, Davie, Garrett and Rebekah were outside the safety of the fence. They were headed towards the smoke, headed towards almost certain danger. 

Garrett carried a M4, the butt of the rifle underneath his arm close to his side. His hand right held the grip with his finger just off the trigger. While his left hand held the barrel at an angle that was slightly down. He saw the movies and documentaries about war. He never had any interest in joining the army or any other branch. He just couldn't see himself doing something like that. But now, here he was. Toting this rifle around like it were his best friend. The fact was, he hated it. He wanted to be home again. 

He and everyone else just couldn't go home again, they just couldn't. There was probably nothing to go home to.

By the time the group got to where the smoke had been coming from, there was no real flames left, just embers in a burnt forest. However, there was a small patch of flames that burned from a downed tree. Crimson anger arose from the burning blaze. Struggling to stay lit all the fury burst out as if it devoured the wood hungrily expressing all its rage and wrath. Smoke released out of its flames and boyishly danced around the tree trying the dispose all its anger from within. The small humble flame then fell to the ground, along with the piece of bark that it was on. The fire flickered like the vicious tongue of a snake poised in hatred waiting to strike. It slowly began to suffocate itself, then it died. Just like everything else.

"Heads up." Daryl stated quietly but loud enough for all of them to hear.

Garrett looked up and saw a Walker, it slowly came towards them. It was probably the most grotesque thing that he ever saw. It was clear that the Walker once wore a hazard suit, complete with the logo of the CDC on the front right breast. The suit was deformed in many places, and it seemed to have burnt itself onto the person who once wore it. The suit had no more mask on it, the face was burnt to beyond recognition and in some places, the skull could be seen. 

Daryl aimed his crossbow at the creature who staggered towards them. He pulled the trigger and the bolt of the crossbow was released. The bolt hit the Walker just above the left eye and it fell to the ground, no longer moving. "Carefully out here, there is probably more where this guy came from."

Garrett looked around making sure nobody else was watching them. "You can go ahead and look for more Walkers, I'm more worried about the people that did this."

"You think people did this?" The new girl, Rebekah asked as she fixed her black hair into a ponytail. "How do you know?"

"It's simple." Garrett said. Then he thought of William and Rebecca. Could they have set it? Why would they want to draw attention to themselves though? He wasn't worried about them yet, it has only been a day since the two of them went out. It was possible that Lakota put quite a few miles behind her. They should be back at the prison with the news by the time he was done out here.

Daryl went over to the Walker and retrieved his bolt from the Walker's head and wiped the brain matter on his pants and then fixed the bolt so that it was back in the crossbow. "You've killed Walkers before, right?" His question was directed towards Rebekah, but she seemed like she was not paying attention.

The fact was, she wasn't paying attention, she was somewhere else. She lived in a city before the dead began to walk. She was barely alone due to her enlarged family and the fact that living in the city gives no real privacy. However; she was alone the day it all began.

She had heard the news reports and have seen multiple riots put down outside of her apartment window. She had her arms filled with things for survival, she wasn't stupid, she knew what was happening. She had planned to moved to a brother's house who lived nearby. But because her arms were filled, she couldn't close the door to her apartment. So she decided to place the things on the counter, then go and close the door. But as she dropped her things off and turned around a strange humanoid stomped into her apartment. 

As she stole a glance at it's face she saw something horrific. The sight nearly turned her to stone. It's snake-like emerald green eyes darted around with no emotion, it's rotting lips were already half destroyed. She heard the bones crack as its neck as it turned and spotted her and then a blood curdling moan. Death walked towards her.

She did the only thing she could do for the moment, she ran to her bedroom with the thing right behind her. She slammed the door or the creature just in time to hear it slam against her door. Then she locked it immediately. She sat for only what seemed to be for a few minutes, but in reality it was an hour. 

The thing was still outside her door. But that's when she looked at her window, she saw light flashes coming from the streets along with a popping sound. She got closer to the window and saw what was going on. There was dozens of police cars, with the lights flashing. And the flashes were gun shots, the police were shooting. 

She couldn't stay here anymore.

With Rebekah not answering him. Daryl walks over to Garrett and discreetly asks, "Do you really think these new people are ready?"

"They have to be." Garrett answered him. Then Daryl walked further away, but still he was visible to the others.

The charred remains of a house stood nearby, in the pale afternoon light like a skeleton. The walls had long since crumbled and in their place stood thick beams of wood, blackened and charred from where the flames had licked at them. The ruins were still smoking and he could see the faintest glow of embers as he peered at the structure.

It was hard to understand that somebody once lived in that house. Someone used to spend their Sunday evenings relaxing, reading a book or watching the television. The fire didn't care. Nobody knows what happened, how the fire began, but it whipped through it like an unholy temper. And a charred carcass of the house was all that remained.

Davie held his AK-47 closer to him than he ever did before. He felt like a soldier, but he was a clock-maker. Grandfather clocks were his specialty. That's what he loved to do. Most of the time customers would come in and want their clocks repaired, and he wouldn't mind that. The title clock-maker sounded like something from the revolutionary war period, but he didn't care. But here, now he was. His title now was useless. The only thing that was between him and certain death was the rifle he held in his hands.

A whistle comes from the direction Daryl is in and they all meet each other half way. 

"Check it out." Daryl tossed a small object to Garrett who caught it. 

It was a small Zippo lighter. The case had been burnt and blackened. The fire had been no accident, it had been intentionally set. The lighter had been left behind, most likely because it was out of fluid.

"What does that mean?" Rebekah asked as the lighter began to be passed around the small group. 

"It means we aren't the only ones out here." Daryl mentioned as everyone's eyes met his.