Chapter Text
Day 1
When I heard the phone ring, I was in the middle of packing my backpack and duffel bag. With deep, steady breaths, my moves were calm and methodical. I already had a set of clothes, a few thermals, pants, t-shirts, and underwear. All the weapons were put in the duffel bag alongside spare ammo and two sets of throwing knives. I flipped my hair over the shoulder while reaching for my mobile, thinking of what other necessities I should put in the bags.
"SSA James, speaking," my voice was even and on point. I reached for a flashlight and put it in the side pocket of my backpack.
There was shouting on the other side of the line, and shots were heard, making my blood freeze.
"Elena! Did you see the news?" It was Michelle, my best friend of many years. We met at work ages ago and hit it off instantly. Even though we've worked in different departments, that didn't stop our friendship from blossoming. Right now, she was shouting orders and breathing heavily into the phone.
"Of course, I did. I also saw what's happening outside of my window," I snorted in laughter, shaking off the uneasiness and moved towards the kitchen. Holding the phone by my shoulder, I started packing food from cupboards and analyzing what would last the longest. "I'm heading to Atlanta right now. Jackson called me just before you did." Gunfire, on the other side, grew louder, and screams became more fearful.
"Michelle, are you still there? What's happening?!" I was usually composed, and it was hard to put me off balance, but right now, I started to realize how serious everything was. I was afraid for my friend.
"Elena, no time! DC is overrun. We lost contact with others."
I stopped and swallowed hard. I knew what she was trying to say, and my breathing quickened. "Michelle, I love you. I couldn't wish for a better friend."
"Me too, El. Head for Atlanta, stay safe, and try to trust people. You can't make it alone! I --" Before Michelle could say anything else, the line was cut off.
My shoulders shook from a silent cry, both hands holding tightly to the counter. This feeling inside me, like someone was trying to rip my heart out and was squeezing my guts, the sense of pain I knew too well, was the main reason I decided not to get attached to anyone anymore. I let out an uncontrollable sob, and a few tears slipped from under my eyelids.
Minutes passed before I managed to collect myself, wiping tears from my cheeks. I pulled my long, blonde curls into a high bun and quickly finished packing. When I left for the car, I knew that nothing would ever be the same. Without looking back, I put the car in gear and headed toward Atlanta.
The highway leading to the city was packed, and cars were full of people. Some were bored and inpatient, while some started showing signs of panic. My car was on the outer line, the engine turned off, and I was slowly chewing on a granola bar. I pushed a few loose hair strands from my face and reached for the radio that sat on the passenger side, turning it on and putting it onto the right channel.
"This is Agent James, broadcasting to Atlanta base. Please respond," I voiced with determination. I had tried this already at least five times in the last two hours, but without any effect. Finally, deciding, I opened the door, left the car, checked if my handgun was in place, and reached the back seat to grab a hunting knife out of my duffel bag. I drove for three hours before I got to where I am now, and I noticed a few things on the road.
One, these sick people weren't people anymore, more like animals, doing anything to get what they wanted. And it seems that what they want now is to eat other people.
Two, hurting them in any other place, but their head does shit nothing.
Three, the noise attracts them; hence stabbing and silent weapons were the most logical option. What I would do to have a bow with me right now, unfortunately, that's not a weapon I usually use anywhere but on the training grounds.
I moved towards the city, maneuvering between still cars. "This is Agent James, broadcasting to Atlanta base. Please respond!"
I passed a big RV with an older guy in a fisherman hat, a few families, and a fat guy who tried to call someone on his cellphone. People were all around me, and I saw a couple of kids playing cards, eating, and setting sleeping bags in their cars. My radio crackled, and I quickly put it up to my ear.
"Agent James, this is Anderson. Stay away from the city!"
Anderson? He was a low-key level office mouse. Where are the others?
"Anderson, what the fuck is happening?! Where is Lee?" I stopped in my tracks when I heard the sound of planes and helicopters flying toward the city. People around me started getting out of the cars and trying to see what was happening. Is it evacuation? Or...
"City is lost! We lost -- contact with White House." Radio started crackling, and I heard screams and pain sounds coming through it.
My breath hitched in my chest.
"--Not safe -- lost -- get out."
And then I saw it: no evacuation, no refugee centers, no safe house in Atlanta. The planes were dropping napalm onto the streets, sounds of explosions started reaching the highway, and I quickly turned around to run to my car.
"Go back to your cars! The city is lost, go back, turn around!" I screamed while running towards my black SUV. As I was passing a cream RV, the guy in the fisherman hat grabbed my arm.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, what's happening? What do you mean the city is lost?" I tensed under his touch and looked up at him. My eyebrow rose just slightly. The man looked ashamed and quickly released me and stepped back. That's what I thought, old man.
"They dropping napalm into the city," I said with a steady voice, still looking at him with a stern look. "Whatever camps were left, they got overrun. There is nothing in Atlanta but dead right now" He shook his head in disbelief.
"We need to leave this place, Ma'am." He took his hat off and ran a hand through his graying hair. "There is an old quarry about 5 miles south from here. We need to turn around and get off this highway."
I looked at him again, running through my options. Michelle's words rang in my head about trusting people and letting them in. Can I do it? I can do this by myself, but what exactly is this? Is it just some virus that will die out in a few days? Or is it something way more severe? Even while working on a case, I had a team to work with and watch each other's backs. I knew how to survive. But could I make it completely alone? God knows how long it will last or even if it will ever end.
"Lead the way. We should try to get as many people with us as possible. It's not safe here," I answered and ran off to the car while the man stepped into his RV.
I was thinking quickly while turning the car around. Being with people wasn't new, but that isn't just another case with work colleagues. I don't have a plan, witnesses, or suspects to interrogate. That would be just me, plain Elena James without masks and without federal backup. Can I let these people know who I am, or will it be another play on my part, for God only knows how long?
Day 3
After two days at the quarry, we've already had around twenty people in our little camp. We stationed cars in strategic places and set up the tents Glenn found yesterday on the run to the city.
The city, Atlanta. Both me and Shane were against him going back there. It was stupid and reckless, close to a suicide mission. But we eventually agreed after a young man told us that he knows the streets and is basically a walking map of Atlanta. When he came back, everyone wanted to know what happened there and if there were any survivors. There weren't, not that he could tell, and we didn't ask anything else as he looked shaken up.
Shane was a cop, so everyone automatically trusted him. He was good at quick thinking and had protective instincts. When I mentioned that I was working for the government, it also set me high in their eyes, and now people were looking at Shane or me with their needs. I still wasn't comfortable around them, hell, I probably never will, but I promised myself that I would try. For Michelle.
Dale, the RV guy, approached me when I started heading towards the tree line, gun and machete by my side. "Where are you going?"
"I am going to the woods. I need to gather a few things." I looked at the old man and smiled, reassuring him everything would be fine. "I can take care of myself, don't worry." Without waiting for his response, I walked away towards the forest.
My boots were quiet against the ground. We did a swift perimeter check when we set up the camp, but still, better to be careful than sorry. I knew exactly what I was looking for. I wasn't wasting any time, scooted a few branches and sticks, still looking for more, and collected small rocks into my bag. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the quiet, wondering how the hell all this started. Will it ever end? Is it just temporary plaque, like black death in the old ages, or is it something we can't overcome? In the woods' peacefulness, it was easy to forget that our country was now in a state of emergency.
I was moving silently through the forest, looking around and on the ground, searching for things I needed.
I was perfectly aware that someone had been following me for the past fifteen minutes. The steps were quiet, but I had good hearing and knew how to recognize noises even in the forest. I had a pretty good idea who it was. I saw him move yesterday when we checked the area and secured the quarry. I noticed then that even though he was a well-built man, he moved quietly and carefully, a typical hunter. He had to be experienced, and the forest was definitely his forte, even before what happened in the last few days. Unsurprisingly, his weapon of choice was a crossbow, which also explained deliciously looking arms. No one learns how to use that kind of thing overnight.
I huffed, annoyed with myself. That's not the time or place to think about some guy's arms, some guy I didn't even know, no matter how good-looking.
I closed my eyes and listened. His footsteps also stopped, and on my left, I could hear the soft noises of birds. Yes, this is precisely what I needed to finish this little trip. I reached carefully for one of my knives, which sat secured inside reins on my sides, just under my breasts. It was an ingenious-looking holster for my throwing knives set, a design of yours truly. All that construction was hidden under my open flannel shirt, holding six knives altogether.
I took one out and turned toward a bird I heard. It sat on one of the higher branches of a nearby tree.
I really knew jack shit about birds, all I could tell was that it was medium-sized, and at the moment, it was using its beak to clean its feathers. I looked only at my target, positioning my body quietly at the perfect angle for a throw. I breathed in and out, steadily and released. The knife hit the mark perfectly in the bird's neck. The only issue was that the force of a throw impaled it to a tree's bark. It was tall and almost completely lacked any smaller branches on the bottom.
"Fuck!" I walked quickly to the tree and looked around it for any reachable branches which would allow me to climb up. Nothing, just my luck.
I guess it's time for plan B. "Well, I guess the show's over, Dixon!" I spoke loud enough for him to hear me. "Move your ass here and give me a boost."
I turned around on my heel to look in the spot where he was supposed to be. That is, if I didn't misjudge the distance and direction of his steps. I didn't, luckily, that would be incredibly embarrassing. The man came out from between the trees, his lips pulled down into a scowl - the only facial expression I saw so far - with his eyes studying me carefully.
"How the hell did ya know I was there, woman?" Daryl looked at me with squinted eyes.
"It wasn't that hard. I have heard you since you started to follow me. Oh yeah, what's that about?" I crossed my arms on my chest and looked him in the eyes. Or I would if he were looking anywhere near my face. That's another thing I noticed: Daryl never looked directly at you unless you were his brother, Merle. He was constantly pacing, showing how uncomfortable he was around other people.
"I didn't... - I wasn't. I saw ya walkin' around, and ya were in the path of my game." I smirked at how uncomfortable I made him feel while he tried to make excuses for himself.
"Alright, never mind that. I wasn't lying about the boost, though. I need that bird and my knife." I put the wood I collected by the tree trunk, my bag next to it, and waited for the men to come around. He didn't. He looked at me like I'd grown a second head, and his scowl deepened. I sighed quietly.
"Come on, Daryl, I am not some helpless lady, and if I didn't need your help, I wouldn't ask. The tree has no lower branches, and I'm too short to reach it even if I jump. So move your ass here and give me a boost." After a second of silence, I added a strained, "please" through gritted teeth. I hated the fact that I needed to ask for help, especially from someone like Dixon.
That's all I needed some Redneck thinking that I can't do shit by myself. But I had to admit that the thought of his hands touching me, these bulky arms wrapped around me... 'stop it!'.
Daryl finally moved towards me, pulling his crossbow's strap around him, so it sat safely on his back.
"Alright, you stand here, give me a nice steady and high boost, so I can reach it. I'll be fine with pulling myself up." He stood almost entirely underneath the branch while I looked up, accessing the distance and how I needed to grab the tree to properly pull myself up. I nodded while the man laced his fingers together and stood steadily.
"Ok, three, two, one!" I placed my right foot in his hands, hands onto his shoulders to stabilize myself, and when he straightened his back and pushed me up, I reached my arms out, stretching for the branch. I felt it under my palms and, using my upper body strength, pulled up to get on a tree. Lying on my stomach, I twisted my body and threw my left leg around the other side of the branch so I was sitting just in front of my game.
I smiled wildly and removed the knife from the bird's neck, it looked like a smaller version of a hawk, but again my ornithology knowledge was ultimately nonexistent. I wiped the animal blood from the blade on my pants and put it back in its holder. I took the bird and threw it to the ground, looking down. Daryl still stood under the branch tracing her movement with his blue eyes.
I smiled again as an idea popped into my head. Now, I'm not sure why I kept pushing younger Dixon's buttons, I was usually proper and composed, but something about him made me behave like a silly girl. I was perfectly able to make my way down, yet I chose this. "Hey, Big Guy, are you ready?"
"What for?" He grunted, barely raising his voice, shifting his weight from one leg to another, only sign that my comment made him uncomfortable.
"Well, the plan up was great. But I didn't really think about getting down. So..." I looked at him with a smug smile. "Catch me!"
Daryl had only seconds to process what this crazy woman above him was talking about when I swung my leg over the branch facing him and pushed myself off the tree, falling down. I am not stupid; I was ready to roll on impact to minimalize the damage, just if he wasn't quick enough. Or simply in case Daryl would decide not to react at all.
Luckily he responded immediately, stepping forward, arms in front of him, legs spread, and knees slightly bent to steady himself for the impact.
He caught me almost bridal style as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Impact winded him and caused Daryl to lose his balance and fall on his ass with me still in his arms. I laughed softly, aware of the position I got us in, my body flushed against his. He quickly shoved me off him and stood up, not looking in my direction.
"Ya're crazy as they come, woman!" His voice sounded more like a growl, making me laugh harder. Oh, that was a great idea. I think I just found my new favorite activity. Making Daryl Dixon uncomfortable. He shook his head and walked away, leaving me alone on the forest floor.
A few hours after the event in the woods, I sat in front of my blue single-person tent with a bunch of sticks in my lap, a hunting knife in hand, and a tool bag on the ground next to me.
"What you doing?" I glanced up to see Carl - one of the few children that were in the camp - standing in front of me, his young face full of interest.
"You'll see when I finish, kiddo." My smile was gentle, or I hoped it was, while I kept sliding my knife on a piece of wood.
"Come on, Miss Elena, please tell me."
Several adults were looking in our direction, sitting just a few steps away in the small group eating lunch: Lori, Shane, joyful T-Dog, and Jaquie, who always smiled. Further out, separately, I could see the Dixon brothers. Merle noticed that I watched them and made a kiss face, making me roll my eyes and look back at the kid standing in front of me. I was never very good with children, truth to be told - babies, yes, but teenagers, that's a different story.
"I'm making bow and arrows so I can go hunting and also so I have a long-distance weapon without attracting the dead," I explained quietly, hoping that not many others would hear my answer. Glancing at their faces, I could tell that I half succeeded.
"Really? That's so cool, can you teach me how to do it? Please!" Carl seemed impressed, but then he was a teenage boy. I guessed many stories I could tell would impress him if I was willing to share them with anybody. I looked at his excited face and put a smile on my face.
"Tell you what, kiddo. I'll teach you when you're a bit older and have more muscles to pull back the arrow. But for now, you can watch what I'm doing, ok?"
The boy nodded quickly and sat down next to me, moving my bag just slightly but not out of my reach, carefully observing my every move. Up ahead, I saw Lori smiling at me as in thanks for making her child happy.
But I could also feel stares from my right, and then I heard older Dixon speak, "Where lil' lady like ya learned to do shit like that, Blondie?"
I stopped carving with a silent sigh, reached for a tool bag, and took out a piece of sandpaper. I started gently but firmly to drag it along the wood, smoothing the edges. Bidding my time and thinking about what to say to that. Am I supposed to tell the truth or lie my face off? Does it still matter what I did before? I knew others were still hoping the military would save them, but I... I knew that it probably won't happen.
I cleared my throat, decided, and finally looked at Merle, my face blank, lacking a smile I was sporting just moments ago. "The Farm."
"The Farm? What kind of fuckin' farm teaches that type of survival skills?" Merle's face shows confusion, his southern drawl deepening while he cursed, but I was looking at Shane, and I could see recognition in his dark eyes.
"The one in Williamsburg, Virginia," I answered shortly, glancing again in the Dixon brothers' direction.
"No fuckin' way!" Finally, that triggered something in Merle's head as his eyes widened.
"Watch the language, Dixon!" Lori barked looking in his direction. Shane stood up, walked over towards me, and crouched on the grass in front. I stopped my work, knowing that this conversation was unavoidable, and looked over at him, face blank, lips pulled in a thin line, and my eyes' stern glare.
"You're CIA?" he said quietly with a look of disbelief on his face.
"No. FBI, but my unit had survival training there."
The man stood up and pulled hands to his face before turning away from me and then back, nearly shouting in my face.
"Then why the fuck are we still here? Where's military, government, where are your buddies?!"
I sighed. I should've known this would be the reaction, at least from a few of them. They were scared, waiting for help, which would probably never come. I noticed that more people came around wanting to see what's all the commotion was about.
I tucked a few loose strands behind my ears, just a quick way to compose myself, and after a deep breath, I started talking, "I left my home in Palmetto three days ago. I got an order to go to Atlanta, meet with people, and investigate, pull our intels together to find out if it's a terrorist attack or like a biological weapon. Before I left, I got a phone call from my friend in DC."
I closed my eyes for a second, the wounds of losing Michelle still fresh. I was also looking for the right words to explain the rest.
"It was overrun, lost. They lost contact with others. That's all the information I received before lines were cut off. Later that day in Atlanta, just before they set the city on fire, I communicated with our people there. Most agents lost their lives, I've been told not to come in, and that White House has fallen." I looked at the faces in front of me to see their reactions. I caught their frightened expressions, and that last piece of hope they had disappeared after what I said.
"I am sorry I didn't tell you guys earlier; it's just--" I stopped myself, thinking about how to deliver what I wanted to say. "I don't know what it means. I don't know if there is any safe place left or if any other government parts are still in place. So I didn't say anything because... how could I take that hope away from you when I don't know by myself what's next?"
I collected my tools, shoved them inside the tent, and then did the same with the sticks. I gave them one last long glance and went into the tent, zipping it shut.