Hills and Valleys - CLOSED

[seth]

Making his way down the dirt road Daryl came to a stop in a wooded area outside of Atlanta, Georgia. It was a familiar spot as he had camped on this site before. It was a beautiful spot by the Oconee River where he and his brother would sometimes come to get away from their father or get drunk or bring girls for a quickie or to just get some peace and quiet. It was located on a bend in the Oconee they called Dixon's corner, although it's real name was unknown to them.

Looking behind the seat of his pick-up he found what he was looking for, a fishing pole. Unfortunately it was broken, a casually of one of their father's many drunken temper tantrums. He knew he was going to have to eat soon, as his stomach shouted to him that it was empty and in need of immediate attention. He didn't think of grabbing any food when he left. He did have to leave in a rush. Strange things were happening all around him and he had felt in mortal danger.

Now that the danger seemed to be over the growling in his stomach increased angrily. The only thing he had left to use was his crossbow. His shotgun and pistol would be of no use in the river. With a sigh he grabbed the weapon of choice and headed to the river's edge. There was always Crappie, Bass or Catfish to be found, Pulling his jacket over his head he held it out over his arms to create a shady place for fish to seek the coolness of the shade.

Thirty minutes of patient waiting rewarded him with a big mouth Bass that he shot with an arrow and pulled out of the water. Along the edge of the woods he gathered branches and built himself a small fire. Gutting and scaling the fish he took a flat piece of granite and laid it on the coals. When the rock was hot enough he laid the fish on it, carefully turning it to make sure it was done then shortly he fed on the Bass and finished it of with one of the beers he had been drinking before he left. Funny how, of all the things he thought to bring, was beer. He had two six packs that were getting hot.

Feeling better he leaned back and looked at the clear blue sky and wondered what the hell had happened. Not three hours ago he had killed a dead man who had been his father that somehow tried to kill him and watched as three other dead people ate a woman in the road in front of his house. Was he having a bad dream? Had he imagined it? Did any of this have anything at all to do with the warning he had heard on the radio earlier?

Once again he was alone and using the skills he had learned as a boy to feed himself. This time, however, he knew the difference between poison oak and Live Oak leaves to wipe with. Maybe tomorrow he'd move on but, as long as there was abundant wildlife and fish he was just as content to stay here for awhile and think about things.

Words: 572
Song: Click Here -->Ring My Bell by Enrique Iglesias
TAG: Any

[Claire Dixon]

Claire didn't know how much more of this she could take. First, she had seen the massacre at her college and survived, and now her group had died one by one around her on the way back to Atlanta from GSU. She was all alone now and had no idea how. She wasn't the strongest member of the group, not by far. Some of them had been her dearest friends from school and turned into walkers right in front of her very eyes, and she was even forced to kill one because if not, she would've been bitten. She was so close to her old home, the one she told herself she would never go back to. However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and she needed to find her family. Scratch that. She needed to find Daryl.

Now that her group was gone, Claire made good time on the road and made it home before nightfall. She was extremely hesitant to go inside her home for the first time in a few years, as she wasn't expecting an emotional family reunion in the least. Hopefully, Daryl would be there so they could figure out a plan together and possibly get the hell out of there before the outbreak worsened in Georgia. These thoughts pushed her on til she was standing on her front porch, and she pushed open the door to her house. It was eerily silent as she glanced around her quickly for any signs of her family. She kept her crossbow in her hands in case a walker decided to make an appearance.

"Daryl?" she called out as she began to search every room for him. She didn't see him, and his crossbow was gone from his bedroom, which worried her. "Dad? Daryl? I'm home. The streets out there are horrible." Tears welled up in her eyes as she began to walk into her father's bedroom. "All of my friends are de..." She never got to finish that statement because she saw a horrifying sight in front of her. Her father, or what was left of him, lay on the floor in a large pool of blood. And his face didn't look human. He had become one of the walkers that she saw on the streets, feasting on human flesh. That ain't far from what he used to do, she thought bitterly, her eyes staring down in horror at the man on the ground. Although, she'd be lying to herself if she said she felt any remorse for the loss. Her father had made her life a living hell, abusing, raping, and even taunting her no matter what she did. The only person in her family that loved her was...

"Daryl. Oh God..." she realized as she looked between her zombie father and the large pool of blood surrounding him. "No...please, God, no." Claire began to cry openly, hot tears running down her face as she dropped her crossbow and fell to her knees, the thought of losing her brother too much for her to handle. "I am so sorry...if I was here, you might be alive. I'm so, so sorry Daryl. What am I gonna do?" she kept repeating the same words over and over again, unsure of where to go from here. Her family was dead, her friends were dead, and the world has gone crazy. Claire was alone with only a crossbow and a small knife to keep her company, her phone had low battery, and she had no vehicle to transport herself to a safer city. She was royally screwed, but frankly? Without her brother, none of it mattered. He was the reason she was able to get away and go to college. He was her support system and her guardian angel.

Looking down at her father's corpse, anger began to boil inside of her, and she pulled out her knife, stabbing the already dead corpse several times and letting out her frustration with her father from when she was little til now. When she was done, she heard a noise behind her and groaned in irritation. Keeping her knife in her hand, she slowly stood up and mechanically turned around.

[seth]

He'd been there for nearly three weeks now and had heard nothing and seen no one. On occasion he would crank his truck up in order to keep the battery charged and turn on the radio. The same warning was being broadcast in the same computerized voice that he had heard the first day.

"This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. The CDC has reported that a deadly virus has been accidently released in the Atlanta area. Anyone with the following symptoms please report to your nearest medical facility: flu like symptoms, severe vomiting, high fever or convulsions. Please take this seriously. We repeat, this is not a test ..."

"Yeah, yeah! Bite me," he replied to the message and stuck in a Hank Williams, Jr. CD. Thoughts went through his head about the volume he should play it on. If it was loud would it draw any of those things he saw the first day? The thing his father had turned into? Or would it draw people like him who were hiding?

"Hell with it!" he finally declared and turned the sound up loud and began singing along.

I live back in the woods, you see
A woman and the kids, and the dogs and me
I got a shotgun rifle and a 4-wheel drive
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive

I can plow a field all day long
I can catch catfish from dusk till dawn
We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too
Ain’t too many things these ole boys can’t do
We grow good ole tomatoes and homemade wine
And a country boy can survive
Country folks can survive

Because you can’t starve us out
And you cant makes us run
Cuz we're them old boys raised on shotgun
And we say grace and we say Ma’am
And if you ain’t into that we don’t give a damn

As he sang he kept beat with the song slapping on the steering wheel. When the song ended he ejected the CD and turned off the engine and listened. Besides some crows calling in the distance there was no sound. Getting out of the truck he slammed the door shut and moved over to the small cooking fire he had built weeks ago and kept it going. By the corner of the woods he had built a lean-to out of branches and leaves for a safe, dry place to sleep. From a distance you'd think it was undergrowth.

Over the fire he had a rabbit roasting. Checking for doneness he was satisfied and began to eat it and as he ate he thought of his siblings. There was no telling where his big brother was but he knew he could take care of himself. His concern was for his baby sister, Claire. He had tried several times to call her but the cheap disposable cell phone died and he tossed it onto the floorboard of his truck. If he ever went back he might get his car charger and try again.

And that's when he made a decision. He was short on supplies and knew there were canned good at the house not to mention clean clothes. When he finished the rabbit he tossed the bones into the fire and gathered his few things. Kicking dirt on the fire he left the lean-to alone. He planned on coming back here after his impromptu home visit. If could get the phone charged he might be able to call Claire and find out her whereabouts. After that his next plan was to get to wherever she was and after that, he wasn't sure.

Taking all the dirt roads and back roads he knew he finally made it to his father's home. The dried remains of the woman who had been eaten were still in the same place in the road in front of the run down house but he chose to ignore it. Instead he pulled up around the back of the house so it would not be so obvious that someone was there. His brother's motorcycle was still in the back of the truck.

As quiet as he could he slipped out of the truck, crossbow in hand, and made his way inside the house. Everything looked the same except for a thick layer of dust that had accumulated on everything. Slipping into the front room he looked down and the dried husk that had once been his father and looked at it, unaware that anyone else was inside.

TAG Claire, Any

[Claire Dixon]

Claire was staring down blankly at her now deceased father, not knowing how to feel about it. On one hand, he was her father who kept a roof under her head while she grew up. Yet, she hated him for what he had done to her brothers and her before she left for college. All of the pain he caused them both emotionally and physically. It still haunted her to this day, and so perhaps she didn't feel a damn thing when it came to her father. But her brother Daryl? She was about to have a downright panic attack right there on the floor. The only thing going through her mind was the time he stepped in to save her life when her father was trying to rape her one night. It had already happened before, but this time was different because Daryl found out for the first time.

She had been doing her laundry and listening to the radio in her bedroom when her father slammed open the door and gave her a drunken look of intense anger. She couldn't help the terrified squeak that came from her lips as she dropped her unfolded clothes and tried to run. He grabbed her by the neck and threw her onto her bed as if she was a ragdoll, and then he climbed on top of her and hit her several times before starting to take off her clothes. She screamed for him to stop and even kicked him, which only pissed him off further. He wrapped a hand around her throat and tried to choke her, and that's when Daryl walked in the room. He had come home early from a fishing trip and was wanting to take Claire to get some dinner in town.

Claire didn't remember much of what happened in the next few moments, but she did remember Daryl threatening her father to never touch Claire again, and he helped her get dressed again and picked her up, bringing her to his truck and driving away. She woke up a bit later to a gorgeous sight of running water and peaceful trees, a place Daryl called "Dixon Corner." It was the Dixon siblings' favorite spot of the Oconee River, and it became her favorite spot after that day as well. Her big brother took care of her and made sure she was healed before taking her back home with him. As if Claire didn't love and respect her brother before it all happened; now, she had much more respect for his bravery and protective nature over her.

So that's why the blonde woman got so angry at the corpse. She wondered if Daryl was the one who killed him for good, and if it was, she gave him major props for finally doing what she never could. The noise behind her sounded like a person walking into the room, though it could possibly be a walker. She could never know these days, so as a precaution, she lifted up her knife as she turned around to confront whoever or whatever it was. And looked upon her brother Daryl's tired face. Daryl. He was alive. And he was right there. She wanted to go touch him to see if he was real, or if he was just an illusion her mind was tricking her into seeing.

He hadn't seen her, as he was staring at their father on the ground, but she definitely saw him. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a sharp gasp of air could be heard. She almost took a step, but instead, her body decided to shut down for the time being. His face slowly faded from view as her world went dark, and her body dropped limply to the floor as she fainted.

[seth]

As he stood looking at the brown crusted thing that had once been their father several emotions played across his face. Sadness, repulsion, disbelief, abandonment, relief, fear, confusion. He had never felt so alone before in his life. Not even when he had to take the brunt of his father's drunken vindictiveness and his belt.

That fucking brown leather belt. It had a square buckle on it and, when his father beat him with it, it was wrapped around his hand with the buckle dangling from his father's grubby fist and he would use it like a club and had beaten Daryl with it. The corners of the belt dug into his hide tearing skin and tissue and left scars that were still visible to this day on his back.

Even though the son-of-a-bitch had done horrible things to his children he felt a pang of sadness. In the South you're taught to respect your elders. But when you're nothing more than poor white trash, people would look the other way when there was abuse using the excuse that they didn't matter and couldn't be bothered. You were looked at as worthless, hopeless, valueless.

That was the main reason why he helped Claire leave and get into a state college in Statesboro, Georgia. If anyone deserved a chance at a life it was her and he had made it his single purpose to ensure her success. That and it got her out of this home. Otherwise she might end up with a bastard baby that was both child and sibling and he wasn't going to allow that.

Claire was special. Claire was his pet project. Even though she was his baby sister, younger by three years, he had also become her protector and a kind of guardian angel, albeit a redneck one, with dirty jeans, sleeveless shirts and oil under his fingernails.

As he was thinking of her and wondering where that cell phone charger was he heard a noise and spun in the direction. Did a walker wander in here before he arrived? Raising his crossbow ready to fire he saw a woman collapse on the floor unconscious. The long, blonde hair was reminiscent of the color of Claire's hair.

"What the hell?" he spoke out loud and cautiously moved over to where the woman lay and was shocked to see it was his baby sister. "CLAIRE!" he called out her name as he turned her over. Poor kid must have walked all the was from the college. Swinging the crossbow over his back he easily lifted her with his arms and took her into his bedroom and laid her on his bed.

Doing a quick sweep of her body he found that she had not been bitten. Rushing outside he grabbed a bottle of water and rushed back to Claire. Wetting a cloth with the water he laid it across her forehead then sat beside her holding her hand.

She was his beautiful sister, his Claire Bear. Gently moving a wayward tendril of blonde hair out of her face he softly spoke her name. They needed to gather as many supplies as they could and get out of the mountains and back to their hiding place as soon as they could. The further away from population centers they were the better off they would be.

"Wake up, Claire. Please wake up."


TAG Claire, Any