Post by Deleted on Jun 5, 2015 19:37:57 GMT -5
Spring saw the girl move south after abandoning the high country through Virginia and Kentucky. She had fled back to the seclusion of the Appalachians because it felt familiar and because she wasn’t afraid of the cold bite up in the alpine forests. But most people were and that meant less of them around. Where there were less people, there were less Dead.
Nancy had picked her way from small town to small town, crossing east over the mountains and ending up somewhere near Asheville when the first thaw came. She remembered waking up in the back of the truck feeling stifled, the air wet with steam and her clothes feeling uncomfortable against her clammy skin. After that, she started sleeping with the windows cracked.
The 40 took her east and away from the mountains, into warmer territory. Scavenging was scarce but hunting was good as the wildlife stirred to the usual seasonal change. Her diet shifted mostly to meat and tinned peaches, which she had been saving for a special occasion. Whatever that might be.
The girl had no set destination for months and simply maintained the easiest route with the best chance of survival. When traffic blocked her path, she backtracked and took the next exit, winding a random path south and north through the nearest areas.
The young woman quickly figured out that any gas stations or towns on the major routes had already been cleaned out or were too densely crowded by the Dead. So she began exploring further into the back roads and trying her luck in the small places, remote farms, abandoned camps. But people were getting desperate now and almost everything useful had been packed up, taken with them or consumed.
Then the d*mn Chevy got a flat.
At first the girl had not even heard the flapping of the deflated rubber on the road. The change in the steering gave it away before that noise. And when she finally pulled the large old truck to a stop and got out, she hissed a gravelly curse under her breath, hitting the bonnet with her fist. The puncture had been on the front left- on her ‘bad side’ and she hadn’t even heard it. By the way the rim had begun to tear into the tire it looked like she had been driving on it for a while. There was no patching it. The whole thing was ruined.
The girl raked her fingers through her short, blonde hair, scratching at the patchy growth behind her temple and grit her teeth to hold back a shout of frustration. If she still had anything there she would have torn her ear clean off and spat on it. Instead there was just a useless hole in the tough, wrinkled hide.
Leaning her hips back against the side of the hood, Nancy slung the rifle across the back of her shoulders, shrugging the thin curves under the flannel shirt to settle its weight. The toe of her boot scuffed the road next to the torn rubber and she tried to figure out what to do before it got dark.
She was sure she had seen the rooftop of a house in the distance when she had turned off this way. But her first instinct wasn’t to start rushing toward it; if there were people there, she was hardly keen to ask them for help. That involved talking. And staring. She f***ing hated staring.
Her entire body tensed as something shifted in the bushes across the road, further ahead. It was large enough to move the foliage and break large sticks underfoot, loud enough to catch her notice. The diminutive young woman jerked away from the truck, her back going stiff as she brought the 770. down into both hands to sight down the scope. Her pale blue eye pressed to the eyepiece, focusing on the window of blurred, moving landscape until she steadied on the moving brush…
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NOTE: Nancy's outfit: here
Nancy had picked her way from small town to small town, crossing east over the mountains and ending up somewhere near Asheville when the first thaw came. She remembered waking up in the back of the truck feeling stifled, the air wet with steam and her clothes feeling uncomfortable against her clammy skin. After that, she started sleeping with the windows cracked.
The 40 took her east and away from the mountains, into warmer territory. Scavenging was scarce but hunting was good as the wildlife stirred to the usual seasonal change. Her diet shifted mostly to meat and tinned peaches, which she had been saving for a special occasion. Whatever that might be.
The girl had no set destination for months and simply maintained the easiest route with the best chance of survival. When traffic blocked her path, she backtracked and took the next exit, winding a random path south and north through the nearest areas.
The young woman quickly figured out that any gas stations or towns on the major routes had already been cleaned out or were too densely crowded by the Dead. So she began exploring further into the back roads and trying her luck in the small places, remote farms, abandoned camps. But people were getting desperate now and almost everything useful had been packed up, taken with them or consumed.
Then the d*mn Chevy got a flat.
At first the girl had not even heard the flapping of the deflated rubber on the road. The change in the steering gave it away before that noise. And when she finally pulled the large old truck to a stop and got out, she hissed a gravelly curse under her breath, hitting the bonnet with her fist. The puncture had been on the front left- on her ‘bad side’ and she hadn’t even heard it. By the way the rim had begun to tear into the tire it looked like she had been driving on it for a while. There was no patching it. The whole thing was ruined.
The girl raked her fingers through her short, blonde hair, scratching at the patchy growth behind her temple and grit her teeth to hold back a shout of frustration. If she still had anything there she would have torn her ear clean off and spat on it. Instead there was just a useless hole in the tough, wrinkled hide.
Leaning her hips back against the side of the hood, Nancy slung the rifle across the back of her shoulders, shrugging the thin curves under the flannel shirt to settle its weight. The toe of her boot scuffed the road next to the torn rubber and she tried to figure out what to do before it got dark.
She was sure she had seen the rooftop of a house in the distance when she had turned off this way. But her first instinct wasn’t to start rushing toward it; if there were people there, she was hardly keen to ask them for help. That involved talking. And staring. She f***ing hated staring.
Her entire body tensed as something shifted in the bushes across the road, further ahead. It was large enough to move the foliage and break large sticks underfoot, loud enough to catch her notice. The diminutive young woman jerked away from the truck, her back going stiff as she brought the 770. down into both hands to sight down the scope. Her pale blue eye pressed to the eyepiece, focusing on the window of blurred, moving landscape until she steadied on the moving brush…
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NOTE: Nancy's outfit: here