The mosquitoes buzzed loudly in her ear, the wind dragged a soft breeze across her face, giving her cool relief unlike the scorching sun that beat down unrelentingly.
Amara dragged a hand across her sticky forehead and let a hot puff of air trickle past her lips as she trudged up to a house that sat on a hill. Her backpack weighed heavily on her shoulders, making them ache.
Her hand grasped the pistol tighter as she neared the home, her shoulders tense and her eyes narrowed, looking for any sign of trouble.
She slinked carefully towards the back door and readied the weapon in her hand. The door handle sighed softly as she twisted it. The door opened slowly, the hinges creaking along the way.
A pungent smell wafted into her nose and she felt the need to gag. The air was sticky and hot, and it smelled like death.
Amara wiped her nose and carefully continued to walk deeper into the home. Her nerves were on fire with alert as she waited for danger to pop out in her face.
And suddenly, the sight before her made her stop.
Flies hummed in the air, there were hundreds of them. The smell was at its worst. It burned her nose and made her eyes water.
GOD FORGIVE US
She dragged her eyes away from the bloodied words on the wall and onto the tragic scene before her. A man and a women laid on the ground at her feet, heads blown off and sluggish, drying blood pooled everywhere.
She shut her eyes and staggered back out of the room, not able to stomach it anymore. She fought down the bile at rose in her throat.
Amara Blakey couldn't consider herself a religious person before the outbreak, now maybe for some people, this fact would change, but now she even more so refused to believe there was higher power. Because why would they let the world go this shitty?
That's because there isn't a God. It's just the living and the dead. No greater or lesser existence. This was what the world has come to, and she was just trying to survive in it.
She let out a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. Nothing she's never seen before.
A low pitched moan made her siege up. She holstered the gun and slide the katana like sword out of its sheath and raised it slightly in defense.
Stepping out of the house, she saw a crank lumbering it's way up towards her. Patches of skin had decayed and fell off of it's hideous face, it's jaw was bare and snapping. She wrinkled her nose.
She hurried down the steps and towards the undead, she grasped the handle tightly.
Once it saw a her near, it tried to walk faster, it held out an arm and smashed its teeth together.
She whipped back the sword and plunged it into the soft skull of the crank. The arm fell and it's discolored eyes drooped.
She yanked out the weapon and kicked the thing to the ground. A blackish paste dripped off of her katana. She cleaned it with a wipe of her jacket.
She slid the sword back into its casing and headed back to the house, intent on seeing if there was any valuables left.
She grew used to the smell a tiny bit and she looted through the kitchen cabinets. She set the couple cans of black beans inside her pack and she continued to scour.
Amara wasn't sure why she was still here. She wasn't sure she knew the point of dragging on in the diseased world. It was always the same, trying to find enough to eat, or trying to find a safe place to sleep and hunker down for a moment.
She had hope in the very beginning. It wasn't much, but it got her to wake up and survive another day. But then she realized that there isn't such thing as hope anymore. It was stolen from her by the very things that scarred the planet.
She threw a couple articles of clothes in her pack and was heading out the door, but then a rumbling sound stopped her in her tracks.
Panic tightened her stomach into knots and she hurriedly flew down the stairs and pulled out her gun, creeping around to the front of the house.
"Hello? I'm a police officer out here. Can I borrow some gas?" A mans voice rang out and she pursed her lips as she neared the man, not being able to fully see him yet.
"Hello? Anybody home?" He asked again and she cocked the gun.
A tall man in a full on police officers suit stood at the front of the door, peaking into the windows. Poor bastard would regret looking inside.
She swallowed, not being able to tell if this man was a threat. She had to make a decision fast, for she was standing in the wide open.
She began to turn around and was ready to leave like a bat out of hell, but she was stopped.
"Hey! Ma'am please," Her eyes widened and she knew she was in trouble.
She whisked around and held the gun steady and raised. His face contorted and he looked surprised but the look was gone quickly.
"Hey, easy. I just need some gas and then I'm gone." He held his hands out in front of him, trying to seem harmless.
She bit her lip. She couldn't trust this man. You can't trust anybody anymore.
"I can't help you. You need to leave."
He slowly walked down the stairs and off the porch. The gun shook slightly in her hands.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just a man lookin' for his wife and son."
She stared into his cerulean eyes with uncertainty. She could tell he wasn't lying about that, but she was wary.
"I'm heading to Atlanta in hopes that I can find them there." He said when she hadn't answered.
"My name is Rick Grimes. I'm just lookin' for my family, I promise." He said again.
She took in a shaky lungful and lowered the gun, and pocketing it.
"I'm Amara."
Authors Note:
Hi guys! Welcome to my first Walking Dead fanfiction. I'm hoping to update at least once a week, but with school and all that, I might miss an update which I apologize in advance. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Votes and comments are appreciated! So much love, Nicolee💕
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Do or Die || Glenn Rhee
أدب الهواةAmara Blakely was alone. The virus that raged through the world took everything from her. Now, she's trying to run away from not only the undead, but her past too. She's alone, but maybe someone is willing to change that. (Glenn Rhee fanfiction) ...
