Chapter 2: 02
Charlotte E. H.
—Shiiiiiit, MERLE, WHAT DID YOU DO?—
The male scream mixed with the buzzing in my head. I heard a car door slam violently, the force of it making my already weakened body shrink even more. Pain radiated through every part of me, and that pain left no doubt—it wasn't a dream.
I was still dizzy after rolling across the asphalt, and I didn't need to look to know I was scratched up. My skin burned as the strong wind hit me, and I remained in a daze, trying to piece together what had just happened.
Then I saw one of the walkers I had been running from, dragging itself toward me desperately, as if the scent of blood had driven it into a frenzy. Before it could reach me, however, an arrow pierced its head, sending it crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.
My head was buzzing when I saw Norman Reedus—or rather, Daryl Dixon—accompanied by Merle Dixon. A younger version of both of them took my breath away. Daryl had the crossbow aimed at the zombie before turning his attention to me. I knew it was him, not just by instinct, but as a crazy fan, I knew Daryl's face inside and out, including all the changes he'd gone through over the years.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
OH MY FUCKING GOD.
Breathe, Charlotte. Breathe.
— You ran over a child! — he declared in astonishment, widening his eyes at me. Wise as Daryl was, he didn't know how to deal with injured children, like Sophia. But I was too stunned to think it through properly. After all, Daryl fucking Dixon was standing right in front of me. IN FRONT OF ME. I was in The Walking Dead, oh my holy glass slipper!
I would've had a fangirl meltdown if I wasn't bleeding on the road in this mini-body, which definitely didn't have a large blood supply.
I smiled weakly, feeling the strength in my body slipping away.
I managed to — reincarnate — and die in record time. Wonderful, this would definitely go to the Guinness in heaven.
...
I felt pain spread throughout my body, nothing unfamiliar, wait—pain? Didn't I die?
Holy shit, I didn't die!
I was drooling against the car door, barely tall enough to reach the window while sitting down. A beautiful scene, I must say. I wiped the drool from my cheek and groaned in pain as I shifted my bandaged arm and legs, wrapped in some kind of makeshift dressing. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was.
I was inside the truck that had hit me, right in the middle of some kind of traffic jam. Wait, traffic jam? Humans? Living people?
I felt the gears in my head grinding to a halt as everything clicked into place. My mouth opened in surprise. I was back at the beginning of the apocalypse.
My Lord of BL, beloved... okay, calm down, Charly, calm down.
HOLY SHIT, THAT STOPPED ME.
Breathe.
Inhale, exhale.
I forced myself up onto the bench, cursing as pain shot through my body, just so I could get a better look out the window. My eyes roamed everything within reach, and in the distance, I saw Daryl, Merle, Shane, Dale, Glenn, Andrea, Martinez, and a few unfamiliar faces deep in conversation. Daryl, though, just stood there with that familiar, easygoing expression while the others talked fervently.
I smiled, watching them, practically itching to jump out and introduce myself. But it wasn't a good idea to have an ADP—an Apocalypse Delirium Panic—attack now, especially not in this mini-body of mine. It would be… strange.
I drummed my fingers on the worn leather of the equally worn truck seat. At that moment, my fingers were the only part of me that didn't hurt when they moved, and I realized that in the worst possible way. When I sat back down, despite forcing myself to move all my extremities, checking for broken bones, I didn't really think I had any. I knew all too well the pain of a broken bone.
I looked at my reflection in the window and blinked tiredly. It would be a pain to survive an apocalypse looking like this. There was no way I could protect myself in such a deplorable state.
—Take it, Brat— The voice, with that slight redneck accent, ordered. Daryl had gotten into the car and offered me a bottle of water and a bag of chips, which I immediately reached for, feeling my stomach cry out for something.
—So...— Daryl scratched his head, messing up his hair even more. The moonlight and car headlights illuminated his face in the middle of that traffic jam. I remembered him. It was right when everything started, and the first zombies began to appear. Apparently, I had the 'lucky' fortune of being transmigrated here at the very beginning.
—For love, Daryl! You're not thinking about looking for them, are you?— Merle asked with a straight face, earning a dirty look from his brother. Merle, who I only then noticed was right behind him, snorted irritably. —Oh, brat, where are your parents?— he asked impatiently, making an obvious effort to be polite, if I can even call it politeness. I stuffed my mouth with fries, staring at both of them.
Okay, I hadn't thought of that... a kid alone in the middle of the apocalypse... damn.
I saw Daryl glare at his brother, who just rolled his eyes.
—Your parents, they...— Merle trailed off, not knowing how to proceed, maybe awkwardly? He probably thought they were dead and didn't know how to ask a child about it. —Where are they?— he asked again, more calmly than his brother. Both clearly didn't know how to deal with the responsibility of a child.
Right, think, Charlotte, think!
I once read that lies are more — believable — when we change only the details that are accurate and leave the rest as close to the truth as possible. I opened my mouth to speak but froze when I saw my reflection in the half-open window. It was the face of a child. How the hell was a child supposed to talk about this? Especially when I looked like I was only three fucking years old.
—Mom became a little star in the sky.— Please, can someone punch me? —Dad said I was supposed to stay... I was... how did he say it?— I feigned confusion as I dangled my feet lightly. —A worthless dead weight.— I smiled at Daryl, who became even more serious, though it wasn't much different from his usual frown.
This subject was something I had abandoned when I was still a teenager, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth when I remembered it. Maybe it would have been better to simply say they had died, but it didn't seem right to lie so much.
I felt the subject drop before they got into the car/truck/junk.
—Are you going to abandon me like Dad?—
Infantilizing my already childish voice, I couldn't let my only chance of survival slip away, or I would become a zombie snack. Of course, this had nothing to do with the fact that I loved TWD and my favorite character was Daryl Dixon—imagine. I saw Daryl look at me sideways, still silent, and not even Merle had the courage to say anything.
I jumped in fright when I heard someone knocking on the window. I felt my blood run cold and instinctively clung to Daryl's arm in fear, which made him direct his attention to me for a few seconds before looking at the window toward the noise that had caught the attention of all three of us in the car. It was Shane, next to Dale.
—The quarry you talked about... we're going with you. — Dale sounded so much cooler in person that it made me want to hug him for just one line. His eyes focused on me with surprise, and I couldn't help but smile in response.
—Only a few of the circle agreed, you can go ahead and guide... — Shane, son of a walsh bitch, was one of the characters I liked, even though he was a pain in the ass. I understood more than half of his actions, and I…
Agreed with almost all of them, even though he'd lost his way with his obsession over Rick's wife. But personally, he became a potential danger to my peach skin, and seeing him next to Dale made my stomach turn.
Merle smiled, and Daryl frowned even more, gripping the steering wheel with his free arm.
—Are we really going to the quarry with this bunch of people? — Daryl grunted indignantly.
—We're going to get out of here as soon as... you know. — I felt huge hands on either side of my head, muffling all the noise, and that made me roll my eyes. I know I look three years old, but I really expected more from Merle. He looks like the kind of guy who'd be tossing porn magazines to kids and laughing, but nooooo, no porn magazines for Charlotte! In the middle of the conversation, Daryl's frown only deepened, and I could hear some curse words under his breath before he finally started the car.
—Where are we going? — I knew the answer, obviously I did, but it was so cool to see how everything happened from the inside, as a member, not as a spectator.
—Go to sleep, brat. It's not time for children to be awake. — I rolled my eyes, not knowing what time it was despite the completely dark sky, and I really doubted either of them would know. But I decided not to complain; it had been a long day. Being between the two of them, I rested my head on Daryl's body, which was leaning against the steering wheel. I felt the half-empty bottle of water being taken from my hands, along with the already empty bag of chips, and I didn't need to look to know it was Merle.
—Do you even know what we're going to do with this brat? — Merle asked after a long stretch of silence.
The tension in the truck was thick enough to cut with a knife. Daryl's silence was heavy, but Merle's words were even worse—each one like a blow to my already fragile hope. My little heart hammered in my chest, racing with the realization that I might have been a mistake they could easily cast aside. A little kid, injured and helpless, in the middle of an apocalypse—what good was I to them?
I clenched my fists, trying to fight the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. I had to prove I wasn't just a burden. I couldn't afford to be discarded. The thought of being left alone, out there in the dark, surrounded by zombies... it was too much.
I shifted uncomfortably, trying to push my body into a position where I could feel more secure, more ready to act. Daryl had already saved me once—he wouldn't abandon me, not unless I gave him a reason to.
I looked up at him, not sure if he could feel my eyes on him, but hoping he might look at me just long enough for me to show him that I wasn't a lost cause.
— Please, — I whispered under my breath, hoping it wouldn't be heard, but it was all I could muster. My mind raced as I searched for a way to make myself useful, something, anything.
I just had to make them need me.
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