lokis_mayhem: (Default)

This is it, the last one for a while. *big sigh* If you need me, I'll be off in a corner, crying a little.

Title: Flash Fiction #31
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 728
Characters: Rick Grimes, Andrea, OCs
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: [livejournal.com profile] luveskane and I decided that it would only be right for Rick to finish off Flash Fiction Month. I desperately want him to have a happy ending, so I gave it to him.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Rick or any other character associated with The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

Rick Grimes sat on the porch swing, the sound of the children playing and laughing as they chased the dog music to his ears. The years had been long and difficult, the road behind them littered with broken dreams, losses, and so much pain. He thought back, remembering the struggle of day-to-day living, trying to survive against the threat of the walkers, an enemy that seemed endless and overwhelming. It made him sad to remember that the walkers weren't the most dangerous of enemies; at times, their fellow survivors were just as brutal, just as ferocious. He still had pain from time to time, his scars still stood out against his skin. The worst scars, though, were the ones on the inside. They never saw the light of day, but they ached all the same.

The screen door behind him closed with a bang, bringing him out of his reverie. He looked up and smiled as Andrea crossed the porch, dropping onto the swing next to him. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes in contentment as she snuggled her head against his chest.

"What's got you looking so gloomy, honey? It's such a beautiful day. I thought you’d be out playing with the kids, enjoying yourself."

He sighed and looked down at her. "I was just thinking about before. All the things we went through, all the people we've lost along the way."

She sat up and looked him in the eye as she stroked his cheek. "I wish you wouldn't do that to yourself. I know it's hard to let go of the fear and worry but it's been years. The walkers are gone now. Looking back… it doesn't do anything except bring you pain. We made it through, we survived. I’m not saying that you should forget those times, honey. Just don’t live in the past.”

Rick looked away, his gaze going immediately to the electric fence that encircled their land, to the huge shed that housed their generators and fuel. Andrea followed his gaze and shook her head as she caught Rick’s chin in her hand, forcing him to look back at her. “You do what you have to to protect us. The fence, the generators, those are necessary. Those represent lessons learned. But you also need to remember is that you have a beautiful family that adores you. We have this land, our home. Life is good now, so smile for me! Or do I need to get my gun and threaten you with it again?"

Rick laughed, remembering the first time he'd met Andrea. "I don't know, you think you can figure out the safety this time before you aim it at me?" She poked him in the chest, squealing as he hauled her into his lap. He wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her close against his chest. "I love you, you know that right?" He caressed her cheek, kissing her softly. "You've made me happy again. I wasn't sure that was even possible." She smiled as she kissed him back, saying “I love you too.”

They held each other, allowing the gentle rocking of the swing and their own company to comfort them.

"Grandpa Rick! Come see what Carl Jr. did!" Little Caroline's voice brought Rick's attention back to the present. She was laughing as she danced around in the yard, pure joy evident in the smile on her face.

Rick sighed and lifted Andrea out of his lap, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he stood up. "Duty calls, honey. What time did Carl and Sophia say they'd be here to get the kids?"

Andrea grinned and said, "Sophia said six o'clock, dinnertime as usual. You've got a couple more hours to play before they get here. Go have fun. I'm going to go start dinner."

Rick blew Andrea a kiss and walked down the stairs to the yard. Carl Jr. was trying to convince the dog that he was really a horse; the dog was having none of it and kept rolling over on his back, throwing Carl to the ground. Caroline clapped her hands, thrilled with the game. Rick scooped her up and swung her in the air, laughing as she squealed before he caught her.

Andrea was right; life was good now. Sometimes, people got a happy ever after after all.
lokis_mayhem: (TWD-Shane)

Almost done with Flash Fiction month! Part of me is really sad - the rest of me is really tired *g*

This could be triggering so, if LJ will let me, I'll cut it. If not, the few of you that are reading these anyway, skip it if you have abuse triggers!

Title: Flash Fiction #30
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 1212
Characters: Ed Peltier, Shane Walsh, mentions of others
Warnings: Abuse, could be triggering.
Author’s Note: This probably makes Shane out to be more heroic than he was but I could see this happening under the right circumstances. By Godric, someone needed to do it.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters associated with The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

The rest of the story... )
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #28
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 1171
Characters: Car Zombie (played by the awesomely kick-ass Sonya Thompson)
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: We have no idea how Car Zombie came to be but she deserves to have her story told. When we met her in Omaha, she said that she’d tried to think about what her zombie might’ve been doing when she was turned and she said that since she was wearing a cardigan, maybe she was a school teacher. I sorta bastardized that idea. The High Museum of Art really does exist n downtown Atlanta and they really do have Kids’ Days but that’s about as much research as I really did for this one.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Car Zombie or any of the other characters of The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

Maggie Buchanan loved her job at the High Museum of Art. There was always something interesting going on – some new show to plan and unveil or an exciting new artist getting their first real shot at distinction. Wednesdays were always her favorite though – Kids’ Day. There was nothing like giving tours to the school groups and watching the little ones have fun creating their own artistic pieces to take home at the end of the day. Hobnobbing with the hip and trendy was ok but, sometimes, you just needed to finger paint with the kiddos.

Today’s group was currently enthralled with the exhibitions in the main gallery but that probably wouldn’t last long. It was a small group; only five children today. She walked toward the group, intending to move them along to the children’s area. Her attention was caught by the television sitting on the corner of the receptionist’s desk. The volume was down but the words “OUTBREAK CAUSES MAYHEM IN DOWNTOWN ATLANTA” scrolling across the bottom of the screen was enough to capture her notice. She walked behind the counter, motioning to the kids’ teacher that she’d be there in just a moment. She turned the volume up just enough to hear the reporter say, “…no one is sure what caused the outbreak but, as you can see behind me, the National Guard has been called out to restore order. At this time, those efforts have proved to be unsuccessful. Everyone is asked to please stay indoors. Do not open your doors to anyone. At this time, we…”

Maggie snapped the television off, the fear in her eyes clearly evident. She walked through the main gallery and down the stairs to the front of the museum. As she opened the door, the scene that greeted her outside was utter chaos. People were running in the streets, screaming in terror. Maggie swore that she saw people biting other people, chasing after them and bringing their victims down like wild animals. Maggie hurriedly closed the door and locked it before running back to the main gallery.

“Miss Carlson, I need to see you for a moment. Children, amuse yourselves for a few minutes and we’ll be right back.” Maggie tried to flash the children a confident smile but she was certain that she hadn’t quite managed it. When they were far enough away from the children, Maggie said in a low voice, “I just saw a report on television that there’s some sort of outbreak in the city. I went to look outside and it’s… well, it’s insane out there. The news is reporting that everyone should stay inside, keep their doors locked, but I really feel like we have to get these children out of here. Their parents will be frantic.” Maggie gestured toward the television; from the footage shown, the National Guard still hadn’t been able to restore order. It was pandemonium out there. Miss Carlson’s eyes widened and her face went pale.

Miss Carlson nodded her agreement as she cast nervous glances toward the door. “The bus is parked on the street; it’s not far from the entrance. I think that, between the two of us, we can get them to the bus and out of here. What about you? Will you be ok once we get out of here? We’ll be happy to take you with us to the school, if you’d like.”

Maggie shook her head. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’ll help you get the children out of here and get to my own car. They have to be our priority though. Let’s go get them ready to leave. It’ll be hard to explain but they really need to stay very quiet and move very fast.”

As Miss Carlson went to talk to the children, Maggie grabbed her keys and began to turn off the lights in the other parts of the museum. Until this was over, she wouldn’t be coming back, she was sure. She intended to get home, lock the doors, and wait it out.

She walked back into the mail gallery in time to catch the end of Miss Carlson’s instructions. “Remember! I need you to stay very quiet and move quickly. Miss Maggie will be going to our bus with us – I need you to stay with us at all times. No matter what you see or hear, you have to move quickly and stay very quiet, ok?” The children’s faces betrayed their fear but Maggie knew that, once they stepped outside and got a glimpse of what waited for them out there, their fear would grow by leaps. All she and Miss Carlson could do was hurry them along and get them to the bus safely and quickly.

She pasted a smile on her face as she joined the group. “Everyone ready?” The children nodded and huddled close together. No matter her smile, they knew that things were not ok. “OK, let’s go then. Remember what Miss Carlson said: be quick and be quiet! Let’s go!” She and Miss Carlson shepherded the children out the door.

The scene that greeted them was like something straight out of a nightmare. Maggie forgot about locking the door behind her; all she could think about was getting the children to the bus and out of harm’s way. “Come on, kids, let’s hurry!”

The children were crying, but they tried very hard to stay as quiet as possible as they ran to the bus. They’d almost made it when one of the children fell and cried out. Her cries caught the attention of one of the outbreak victims; Maggie watched, horrified, as he actually sniffed the air before staggering in their direction.

“Keep going! I’ve got her!” Maggie called to the others as she scooped the little girl up off the ground. Cradling the child in her arms, Maggie ran for the bus as fast as she could. Miss Carlson and the other children had made it to the bus and were climbing aboard when Maggie reached them. She handed her charge off to Miss Carlson as she said, “You get them loaded and get out of here. I’ll distract these things and keep them away from you. Good luck!”

Maggie ran in the opposite direction, hoping to draw as many of the creatures away from the bus as she could. Over her shoulder, she saw the bus pull away from the curb and she smiled in relief. At least the children were safely away.

Caught unaware as she watched the bus, a man, one of the creatures, grabbed Maggie by the arm as she ran by. He pulled her into the back of the car he was sitting in and attacked. She tried to fight him off but he was too strong, crazed by his hunger. His teeth ripped into her flesh, blood ran down her neck and soaked the cardigan she was wearing. As her vision wavered and faded to black, Maggie wished that she’d accepted Miss Carlson’s offer of a ride.
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #27
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 616
Characters: Sophia
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: This is set before the CDC went boom. I thought that a girlSophia’s age would be into keeping a diary if she could – I kept a diary when Iwas her age. And it would be something special for her since no one would knowabout it. Plus I hadn’t written about Sophia yet and I’m trying to geteverybody in before my clock runs down.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Sophia or any of the other characters associated withThe Walking Dead, sadly. I just like to take them out and play with them fromtime to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are mine. If you seeanything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!


Dear Diary,

Mom doesn’t know I’m writing this. I found it on thebookshelf in the library here. I guess someone put this notebook on the shelfby mistake. I’m glad I picked it up to look at it – I need someone to talk tobesides Carl and my Mom.

It’s been a hard week for us all. There have been some goodthings though. Carl’s dad found the camp! It was really weird cause we allthought he was dead. Shane said so. He met up with Glenn and the others whenthey went into the city for supplies and came back with them. Carl is so happy!His mom seems happy too but something is wrong with her. I don’t know what butCarl says that Shane is making her sad. I don’t see why – I like Shane. He wasalways nice to me and my mom.

That’s another thing that happened. I found out about itlater – I overheard Andrea and Amy talking about it. My mom was down by thequarry with some of the others, washing clothes, and my dad got mad and hither. Shane hit him back, a lot. My dad’s face was all bloody and bruised – he couldn’teven see. He wanted us to stay with him that night but the others were having aparty and Mom wanted me and her to go.

It’s a good thing we did. Some of those things, the walkers,came to the camp. They attacked my dad and killed him. They killed a lot ofothers too – I miss Amy the most. I feel like I should be sad about my dad andI am, a little. But mostly, I’m just glad that no one is mean to my momanymore. I hated to hear her cry.

Carl’s dad, Sheriff Rick, said that we had to leave thecamp, go to the CDC. Mom told me that that’s where they cure diseases likesmallpox and stuff like that. Anyway, Shane said that we had to go to FortBenning instead. Shane and Rick sorta got real mad at each other for a littlebit but then we ended up going to the CDC anyway. That’s where I am now.

My friend Carla and her family didn’t come with us though. Herdad said they had family in Alabama, I think. They were going to go thereinstead. I miss her a whole lot. She gave me her dolly before she left – Icried all the way to the CDC. I sleep with the doll every night and take iteverywhere with me. Carl laughs at me but what does he know? He’s a boy.

When we got here, we were almost attacked by more walkersbefore we could get inside. The doors were locked and everyone was yelling ateveryone else. It was really scary. The doors finally opened and this guy, Dr.Jenner, let us in. We all had to give him some blood – he said it was the priceof admission. It didn’t hurt too bad. At least he fed us when we were done.

And we all got to take hot showers! This place is great!There’s a game room for me and Carl, but we can’t turn on any of the games.There are a lot of books too. That makes mom really happy. She told me that shethinks we can stay here and be safe for a long time. I sure hope so. I’m reallytired of living in the woods and being scared all the time. Being locked inhere, it feels safe.

Uh oh, Mom’s coming. Gotta go. This’ll just be my secret.

[ETA: This was posted at my blogspot last night - I didn't skip a night! *g*]
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Finally! This one took a while! Again, I broke the 1000-word limit but not by much this time. I hope you like it - I'm looking at you, [livejournal.com profile] luveskane !

Title: Flash Fiction #26
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 1075
Characters: Daryl Dixon, Andrea
Warnings: This one is pure imagination, set sometime in season 2. [livejournal.com profile] luveskane gave me the idea – Andrea has become my personal little TWD village bicycle, I’m afraid. I kinda envy her though, to be honest.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Daryl, Andrea, or any other character associated with The Walking Dead, much to my ever-lasting regret. I just like to take the characters out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are mine (and, considering how out of it I am right now, there are probably plenty of them!). If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

Andrea grabbed her backpack and wandered quietly out of camp when no one was watching. She didn’t really plan for things to happen this way; she just saw her opportunity and took it. She hated to disappear on the group, hated to cause them worry about what had happened to her. She just couldn’t take it anymore.

She’d been wandering for a while when she came across what was probably some sort of summer camp before the walkers came. Seemingly deserted now, there were multiple cabins and what seemed to be a longhouse shower cabin. Her first thought was that this would be perfect for the group; maybe there would even be a generator for the showers. Then she snorted out a laugh – she’d left the group. They’d either find the place on their own or not. It was no concern of hers. Not anymore.

Andrea wandered through the camp, not really paying attention to her surroundings. Her heart skipped a beat when someone clapped their hand over her mouth and grabbed her around her middle, hauling her through the doorway of the longhouse. She screamed but no sound escaped thanks to the big hand over her face. She could barely breathe.

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman? You got a death wish or somethin’?”

Daryl. She sagged in relief, closing her eyes and willing her heart to start beating normally again. Daryl released her and she whirled on him. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, you damn moron?! You scared the hell out of me, grabbing me like that. You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you!” She slapped his chest and glared at him.

“Keep your fuckin’ voice down!” he hissed as he snagged her wrist and dragged her to the window. “Look at that. You woulda walked right in the middle of ‘em.”

Andrea looked out the window and gasped; there was at least a hundred walkers out there, just milling around on the other end of the compound. There was a small group of them not a foot from the other end of the longhouse. Daryl was right – if he hadn’t grabbed her, she’d have likely walked right into them. She looked back at him, abashed. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come.

“I saved your life. You’re welcome,” he said. He went back to cleaning his arrows. “I blocked the doors and windows, all but this one. We can’t risk leavin’, not now. We’d draw them right back to the others. It’d be a bloodbath. We’ll have to wait it out, wait’ll they leave on their own.”

Andrea couldn’t contain her surprise. “Since when have you ever cared about the group?”

Daryl threw the arrow he was cleaning down and grabbed Andrea by the arm. “Hey, you don’t know a fuckin’ thing about me. Don’t mistake me for my brother. That’d be a big mistake.” He shoved her away and sat back down, snagging his arrow as he sat. “I care. I know what y’all think about us Dixons. And I know Merle was an asshole but you know what? I was raised to respect my elders and love my family. So I respected him no matter that he was an asshole. You can think what you want. Makes no never mind to me. But don’t think you know the first damn thing about me cause you don’t.”

Andrea was struck speechless. That was the first time Daryl had mentioned Merle since he and Rick had come back from Atlanta. Rick told everyone what had happened, how they found Merle partially eaten and reanimating, and he’d asked that everyone give Daryl some space and not bother him about it. She felt bad for making Daryl think of Merle again, even though she didn’t intend it.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Daryl just nodded so she sank down in the floor next to the bench he was working on. “You’re right, you’re not like Merle. At least, you don’t call me ‘Sugar Tits’ every time you see me.” Daryl snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, but that actually worked on the bar flies back home. You’d be surprised – they ate that shit up with a spoon.”

Andrea just laughed and shook her head, moving to sit next to Daryl. “Maybe I’m just not a ‘Sugar Tits’ sort of girl.” Daryl gave her a side-long glance as he said, “Maybe Merle just didn’t say it right?”

Andrea looked at Daryl for a long moment. She wasn’t sure who moved first; the next thing she knew, she was in Daryl’s lap, his arms tight around her, his mouth on hers. She grabbed his shirt in her fists and pulled, sending buttons flying as she tore it open. Daryl growled, deep and low, and pulled Andrea’s shirt over her head. “Mmm, sugar tits,” he murmured as he tossed her shirt on the floor.

Andrea’s laugh turned to a low moan as he ran his tongue down her neck to her cleavage. “Oh yeah, it works when you say it,” she whispered. Daryl grinned and laid Andrea back on the bench beneath him. “Told ya,” he said. “It’s all in how you say it.”

The next morning, Andrea woke up to find Daryl already dressed and ready to head out. “Mornin’,” he said as he came to sit next to her. “The walkers are gone. Musta wandered off while we were sleepin’.” Andrea nodded as she stood up and grabbed her clothes. “Are you comin’ back with me?” he asked, his eyes dark as he looked at her.

Andrea stopped moving and just looked at Daryl. She knew that he’d probably never admit it but damned if it didn’t sound like he wanted her to come back. She had to admit that she felt better today than she had in a long time; since before the walkers came, to be honest. She walked over to Daryl and bent down to kiss his cheek. “Yeah, I’m coming back with you,” she said.

More than a few wondering looks were cast their direction as they walked back into camp together. Andrea was pretty sure her mussed-up hair and Daryl’s torn shirt were dead giveaways but she honestly just didn’t give a damn what the others thought. For the first time in a long time, she actually wanted to live.

And, wonder of wonders, she owed her life to a Dixon.

lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #25
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 451
Characters: Jacqui
Warnings: None as long as you’ve seen TS-19
Disclaimer: I don’t own Jacqui or any other character associated with The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are mine. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

The doors to the lab closed around them, sealing their fate. As Jenner explained what facility decontamination entailed, Jacqui watched the reactions of the others. Daryl hacked relentlessly at the doors; Rick begged for a chance, for some compassion; Shane ranted and railed against their fate; Lori and Carol just hugged their children close and wept.
Jacqui felt a strange sense of peace, of acceptance. After losing their friends Jim and Amy, after watching the video that Jenner showed them about what happens when one is infected, Jacqui had no desire to leave the CDC, to face the outside world again. Jenner promised that it would be quick, painless. Just a quick flash and it was over.

No more struggle. No more fighting to survive. No more wondering if today was the day she’d be bitten, infected.

Jenner granted the others their chance; he unlocked the doors for them. Topside was their problem but they were no longer locked beneath. As T-Dog grabbed her hand to pull her out the door, she felt a moment of panic. Could she really stay behind? Was she strong enough to refuse to leave?

“Uh uh, sweetie, I’m staying,” she said. She saw the shock and dismay pass over T-Dog’s face, mirrored in the faces of the others. She knew they hated to lose a member of their group but she was grateful when T-Dog finally squeezed her hand and turned to leave. She watched the others run out the door. All, save Dale. He refused to leave without Andrea.

As she listened to Dale try to convince Andrea to leave, Jacqui thought of her life before the walkers came. She’d had a good life, a fulfilling life. She’d been married, had borne two beautiful sons. She’d lost her husband to cancer but they’d had many wonderful years together. She’d seen their sons, Ty and James, grow to be strong, decent young men. They were off on their own now, living in New York and Philadelphia. Her heart ached at the thought that she’d never see them again; she just had to hold out hope that they were safe.

She watched as Andrea and Dale ran from the room, the doors sealing shut behind them. She and Jenner watched as they made it outside through the broken glass. He turned to her and said, “They made it.”

Jacqui smiled and held out her hand to Jenner. Strangers though they may be, everyone deserved to hold someone’s hand in the end. They stood together, before the monitors, as the clock ticked down.




A fiery explosion ripped through the facility, the very air itself catching fire. Jacqui closed her eyes and knew no more.
lokis_mayhem: (TWD-Rick & Shane)

Title: Flash Fiction #23
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 1283
Characters: Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes, Shane Walsh
Warnings: This is a continuation of Flash Fiction #19. I had a “Eureka!” moment that let me continue it AND use the “First Look at Season 2” video as a tie-in. Booyah! I hope you like it cause this one took a lot out of me. Also, I broke the 1000-word limit (again) but it couldn’t be helped. There was just no way, in my opinion, to pare it down.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don’t own Shane or Rick (or Lori) – I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are my own, and it’s likely that there are quite a few. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

As the others gathered around the campfire for what passed for breakfast these days, Shane stood at the edge of the clearing, mentally steeling himself for what he was about to do. He didn’t want to do it – he just couldn’t see any other way. Someone was going to get hurt and, though he hated the thought of it, there just wasn’t any other way. Giving himself a good mental shake, Shane turned and walked toward the others.

“Rick, I need to talk to you,” he said as he approached the group. Rick looked up, somewhat taken off guard. “Okay, just give me-, “Rick began to say. Shane shook his head and said, “No, now. Right now. Right here. I have something to say and you need to hear it.”

Lori looked up, her eyes widening as she shook her head warningly at Shane. “Shane, don’t.” Shane looked at her, his eyes cold. “And why not?” Lori stood, stepping slightly in front of Rick as if to protect him from what she knew was coming. “Because this is neither the time nor the place. These people-“

Shane exploded, his voice harsh and rough. “These people? These people already know Lori! Do you think they haven’t seen? Haven’t heard? They know exactly what’s been happening, Lori, and it’s high time Rick he was told. These people aren’t stupid! And neither am I, so get out of the way.”

Rick stood, watching Lori and Shane’s exchange, growing more confused by the moment. He looked around at the others in the camp, surprised that none of them would meet his eyes. The only movement in the camp was Carol as she hastily took Carl and Sophia back to her tent. Rick looked back at Shane as he stepped up next to Lori. “Tell me what, Shane? You kicked in the door, walk through it. Tell me what?”

Shane took a deep breath, then said, “Rick, the only way I know to say it is straight up. Lori and I, we’ve been sleeping together for the past couple of months. Since we left for Atlanta.”

Rick felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. He couldn’t quite breathe, couldn’t quite make sense of what Shane was telling him. “You… and Lori?” He looked at Lori, certain that he was misunderstanding, until he saw the tears running down her face. “How could you? You… You’re supposed to be my best friend!” He walked to Shane and grabbed him by his shirt. Shane just stood there, let Rick manhandle him. “How could you?!” Rick yelled in Shane’s face.

Shane just shook his head as he said, “Rick, she kissed me, asked me to make love to her. I didn’t… I couldn’t… We were both hurting...”

Lori stepped forward, her hands out as she pleaded with Rick. “It was a mistake, Rick! Please, we… he told me you were dead. I thought you were gone.”

Rick turned his head, his eyes ice cold as he glared at Lori. “You thought I was dead? For what, a week?” He shoved Shane away from him as he turned on Lori. “How long did you wait before you started fucking my best friend?”

Lori backed away from Rick, her eyes wide. She’d never seen him so angry, so hurt. Her look was mirrored by the others in the camp. None of them had ever seen this side of Rick. Even Daryl, who couldn’t give a shit less about the Grimes’s or their domestic issues, couldn’t look away. Lori whispered, “I thought you were dead.”

Rick began to laugh, the almost hysterical laughter of a man who’d thought he was clinging to a lifeline only to discover that he’d been gripping the tail of a viper instead. Tears streamed from his eyes as he howled with laughter. The others in the camp watched the trio, unable to look away from the train wreck that was happening before their very eyes.

Shane stepped forward as he said, “Rick, we thought you were dead. If I’d known-“

His words were cut off as Rick abruptly slammed his fist into Shane’s face, bones crunching and blood spurting as Shane’s nose broke. Shane hit the ground on his back, his hands to his face and his eyes wide as Rick stood over him. Rick glared down at Shane, not bothering to try to hide the pain and anger that he was feeling. He looked up at the others, saw their almost identical expressions of awe, fear, and pity.

It was the pity that was his undoing. He backed away from Shane and fisted his hands in his hair. “I’ve gotta go. I can’t be here right now.” He turned and stumbled toward the woods, needing peace and the solace of being alone.

Lori ran after Rick, desperate for his forgiveness, for his understanding. “Rick, wait! You can’t go out there alone!” She caught his arm and turned him back to her. “Please, honey, I love you. We have to work this out.”

Rick pushed her away from him, pointing his finger in her face. “Don’t touch me, Lori. You just stay the hell away from me.” He turned on his heel and went into the woods, not caring how much noise he was making. He refused to care about the sound of Lori’s crying, or the sound of the others talking about him. He just had to get away.

Rick had been gone for hours, wandering in the woods trying to cool down. His temper still raged, his ears roaring and his pulse hammering in his veins. He couldn’t shake the mental image he had of Lori and Shane, together. Tears streamed down his face, stinging his eyes and making tracks in the dirt and soot that still stained his face. He swiped his arm across his face as he stopped to look around, get his bearings.

Through the trees, he could see movement, hear what sounded like the shambling footsteps of walkers. At least two, he thought, but he couldn’t tell for sure. He rolled his eyes and groaned as he realized he’d taken off from the camp without any of his weapons. He searched the ground around him for anything he could use as a weapon, spotting a large chunk of rock. “That’ll have to do,” he murmured to himself as he scooped up the rock and hid behind the largest tree nearby.

He waited, holding his breath, as one of the walkers came into view. He gripped the rock tighter in his hand, waiting for the walker to get close enough. As soon as the walker was within range, Rick leapt from behind the tree, striking the walker in the face with the rock. He knelt over the walker, unable to hold back the rage as he slammed the rock down again and again, crushing the walker’s skull.

Rick looked up just in time to see another walker coming toward him. He stood and threw the rock at the walker, scoring a direct hit to the walker’s face. As the walker fell back, Rick smiled. He felt better now. He knelt and picked up the rock, testing its weight in his hand. As he looked down at the prone walker, all he could see in his mind’s eye were his best friend and his wife. Hearing their voices in his head as they made excuses, pleaded with him for forgiveness, Rick clutched the rock in both hands as he knelt by the walker and raised his arms to the sky.

With all the strength he could muster, Rick brought the rock down on the walker’s head.

No forgiveness. No understanding. He was done.

lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #22
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 908
Characters: Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon
Warnings: Character death
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Dixons or any other characters associated with The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all mistakes are my own. And I’m completely braindead right now, so I’m sure there are plenty of them! If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

Daryl shook his head as he walked through the woods to his trap. Damn Merle anyway! Why the hell did Merle get to sit on his ass at the cabin while he had to go stomping through the woods to collect dinner? Older brother, my ass. Fuckin’ sorry excuse.

As he got closer to the area he’d set the trap in, he started to smell something awful, that horrible stench of death and decay. It wasn’t long before he saw why. There was a walker lying half-in the creek that ran nearby. The walker, what used to be a man, had had his head bashed in, probably with the bloody rock lying nearby. Daryl gagged and covered his nose, mutt
ering, “God dammit, Merle! Leave the fuckin’ thing lying in the creek! What the hell?”
Daryl tucked his shirt over his nose and grabbed the walker by the ankles, dragging it off into the woods out of the way. There was an abandoned well back there, had been dry for years. He rolled it into the well and pulled the cover back into place. It was too damn hot to dig a grave but he had to get it away from the creek. “Prob’ly already contaminated the water. Least we still got our feeder creek fer water.”

Daryl went back to his traps, pleased to see that he’d caught a mess of them. “That oughta do up a stew that’ll last us for a few days,” he said to himself as he collected the squirrels, breaking their necks and tying their tails together to carry them back. He’d come back in a few days and reset the traps, he thought.

As soon as Daryl was within eyesight of the cabin, he yelled to get Merle’s attention. “Merle! Get your butt out here! I had to go get ‘em but you gotta help skin and clean ‘em!” Merle came to the door, scowling. “Shut yer trap, boy! You wan’ta bring the geeks callin’?” He shook his head and walked down the stairs to meet his brother. “Not a bad mess a’ squirrels there. That oughta do us fer a few days if we stew ‘em up.”

Daryl took the string and tossed the squirrels to Merle. “Here then. You get started and I’ll be right back,” he said as he started to walk around the back of the cabin. Merle shouted, “Hey! Where the hell do ya think you’re goin’?”

Daryl spun around and glared at Merle. “I have ta take a piss, is that alright with you? Damn!” He stalked off behind the cabin, grumbling to himself.

Merle sat down on one of the logs around the fire pit and pulled his knife. “Little shit, he oughta learn to respect his elders,” Merle grumbled to himself. He sharpened his knife on the flint he kept laying on the table at the pit and cut the cord tying the squirrels together. He snagged one in his hand and began to clean and dress it, muttering the whole time.

Merle was so intent on his work (and his bitching) that he didn’t notice when one of the squirrels started to move. It opened its eyes, showing bloodshot whites. One by one, the other squirrels began to reanimate as well, opening their eyes and making growly chittering sounds. One of the squirrels caught sight of Merle and leapt on him, biting and scratching at his face.

“What the fuck?!” Merle screamed as he batted the squirrel away. The other squirrels began leaping on Merle as well, biting and scratching whatever parts of him they could reach. Daryl, alerted by Merle’s screams, came running around the side of the cabin, his crossbow drawn and loaded. The sight that greeted him blew his mind – he could hardly believe that what he was seeing was real.

“Merle!” he shouted as he ran, dropping his crossbow and scooping up an axe that was leaned against the porch. He tried to knock the squirrels off of Merle but several of them managed to leap on him instead, their tiny claws and teeth digging into his flesh, drawing blood.
Together, Merle and Daryl fought back against the squirrels, hacking at them with whatever weapons they could reach. When it was all over, Merle and Daryl stood looking at each other, gasping for breath. “What. The fuck! Was that?!” Daryl gasped out. Merle dropped down on the ground, checking himself for wounds. “How the hell do I know, man? You’re the one that brought home the dinner that bites back!”

Daryl knelt on the ground next to Merle, wiping blood away from his own wounds. “Hey, you think these little fuckers just infected us?”

Merle looked over at Daryl, shock on his face. “Son of a bitch.” He looked at the wounds on his arms as though they were sprouting heads and beginning to talk. “We can’t take the chance, brother. I’d rather die than be one of them things. We have to kill each other.”
Daryl sighed and closed his eyes, hanging his head. “You’re right. On three then?”

Together, they stood and took up their weapons, taking aim on the only family they had left. Neither one of them was much for sentimentality; neither had time for flowery goodbyes or words of love and loss.

Daryl began, “One.”

Merle nodded and said, “Two.”

Together, they said, “Three,” and fired.

Roughly six hours later, Daryl opened his eyes.
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #21
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 543
Characters: Carl Grimes, Lori Grimes, Rick Grimes
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Grimes family, I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all mistakes are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know. Concrit is always welcome!

Carl watched as the others greeted their friends and loved ones when they came back from Atlanta. He hated to feel like this but he was really jealous. He’d been hoping that his grandparents might find their way out of the city and make it to the camp at the quarry. He turned away from the returning group, unable to keep himself from crying just a little, though it made him feel like a big baby.

Lori caught Carl’s arm as he tried to walk by her and knelt down in front of him, her hands on his shoulders. “Carl, what is it baby?” She looked at the returning group, trying to see what might’ve upset Carl. Shane caught her eye, giving her a questioning look. She just shook her head and shrugged, bewildered. Carl followed her gaze for a moment before turning back to her. “It’s nothing, Mom. I just… I really hoped that somehow Grandma and Grandpa would find the others and come back to camp with them.” He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing then. “I just miss them so much! I’m scared that they’re dead, like Daddy.”

“Oh baby,” Lori said, wrapping her arms around him. “Honey, I’m sure that Grandma and Grandpa made it out of Atlanta just fine. Remember what the radio said that time, that a lot of people were being evacuated by the military? I bet they made it safe and sound to some big military complex somewhere.” Lori knew that her words were more than likely false; she held out very little hope that her parents were alive. Chances were good that her brother and sister were dead too. She refused to show that worry to Carl though; only Shane ever saw that, late at night when everyone else was asleep. She glanced over at him and sent him a little smile, trying to let him know that Carl would be ok.

Though they weren’t really paying attention, both Carl and Lori heard Morales call out, “Hey, Helicopter Boy! Come on over and meet the rest of the crew.” As a man climbed out of the box truck, Morales told Shane, “He’s a cop, like you.”

Carl didn’t know what made him decide to look over at just that moment, but he could hardly believe what his eyes showed him. There was his dad, alive! Dressed in his Sheriff’s Deputy uniform, just like always. For a moment, Carl thought that he was seeing things, his mind playing tricks on him because he missed his Dad so much. Then he heard his mom gasp in surprise and he knew that she saw it too – it was really his Dad.

Carl ran to his Dad, tears streaming down his face. Rick scooped Carl up, cradling him tight in his arms as he hit his knees. Carl was crying too hard to speak but he felt his Mom grab them both in a hug just a few seconds later. He could hear everyone murmuring in surprise; he knew that people were shocked to see his dad alive after being told for so long that he was dead. Carl was too happy to really care how that had happened.

He had his dad back; that’s all that mattered.
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

I had a really hard time with this one. I started, stopped, and killed it three times. I'm still not 100% satisfied with it but it'll do for tonight.

Title: Flash Fiction #20
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 434
Characters: Lori Grimes, Rick Grimes
Warnings: None
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own Rick, Lori, or any other characters associated with The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

Lori quietly opened the door to Rick’s hospital room and walked inside. The room was so dark, so quiet save for the beeps and hisses of the machines keeping her husband alive. She stood for a moment, just looking at him as the door closed with a soft ‘snick’ behind her. She’d never seen Rick so pale, so quiet. He had always been so full of life and energy, always with a ready smile for everyone. It hurt to see him like this.

She slowly approached the bed and took Rick’s hand. “Honey, I’m here. The doctor said that you might be able to hear me, that talking to you might do some good. They told me… they told me what happened, said that the gunshot did a lot of damage inside-“

Her voice broke and she remained silent for a few minutes, unable to do anything but cry and clutch Rick’s hand. When she was finally able to speak again, her voice was thick with tears, barely above a whisper.

“Rick, you have to wake up… You have to give me the chance to apologize for how horrible I’ve been to you lately, to make it up to you. I’m so sorry for the things I said to you. I never meant any of it. I was so hurt, and I wanted to hurt you back. It seems so stupid now. I’d give anything to take it all back, Rick. Honey, please wake up, please come back to us.”

She bent down, laying her head on Rick’s chest, hearing his heart beat slow and steady beneath her cheek. Her tears wet his hospital gown as she looked up at him, saying, “Carl and I need you, Rick. I can’t… I can’t go on without you, you know that. You mean too much to me for me to lose you. You have to fight, Rick. You have to get better and come home.”

She searched his face for some sign of movement, anything to show that he recognized her voice, heard her words, felt her presence, but the only sounds or movement in the room belonged to the machines. She put her hand against his cheek and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to wake up, honey.”

She pulled a chair nearer to the bed and, as she sat, she took Rick’s hand again. “I don’t care how long it takes, Rick. I’m not giving up on us.” She lay her head on the mattress next to Rick’s hip and closed her eyes, giving herself up to exhaustion.
lokis_mayhem: (TWD-Shane)

Title: Flash Fiction #19
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 756
Characters: Shane Walsh, Lori Grimes, Rick Grimes
Warnings: None
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own anything associated with The Walking Dead – I just like to take the characters out to play from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

Shane waited until Rick and Glenn left on a supply run before he made his move. He watched Lori as she sent Carl off to Carol and Sophia’s tent, mentally rehearsing what he wanted to say. He still felt horrible for what had happened at the CDC. He’d never intended to get that rough with her; he never meant to hurt her or scare her. He just needed her to understand his feelings, to listen to what he had to say.

He walked slowly toward her tent, making some noise so she’d know he was approaching. “Lori? Can I please talk to you for a minute?” He kept his voice soft, nonthreatening. Lori’s back immediately stiffened and, as she turned to look at him, Shane was struck by how cold her eyes were.

“Stop right there, Shane. If you come any closer, I swear to God I’ll beat you to death with this pan.” She clutched the pan tightly with both hands, her knuckles almost white from the pressure.

“Hey, I’m not going to touch you, I swear it. I just want to talk to you, to apologize.” He raised his hands to show he meant no harm and sat down on a log a few feet away. “Please, Lori, I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted that. I never wanted to hurt you. I only want to love you, to remind you that you love me.”

“Love?” she spat, her eyes flashing with anger. “How dare you say that word to me? Shane, you attacked me!” She whirled on her heel and began to walk away. Shane stood and grabbed her arm, spinning her back around to face him.

“Lori, I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry. Please, just… just listen to me, ok? Lori, I know you love me. You would never have been with me if you didn’t. You told me that you were going to leave Rick but then he got shot. I thought that… that me, you, Carl, we could be a family. And now Rick’s back and all of a sudden you’re playing the dutiful wife, thrilled to death that you have a second chance? Lori, that makes no sense. How could you do this to me, to us?” Shane’s voice grew progressively rougher, more emotional. Tears glistened in his eyes as he searched her face for some sign that she understood, that she felt the same. “Lori, I love you. Why can’t you love me back?”

Lori wrenched her arm from Shane’s grasp, venom in her words as she said, “I have never loved you. Get that through your head now, Shane. What happened between us was a mistake. You told me my husband was dead. You lied to me. Everything that happened between us after that was a lie. Forget it and get out of my life. Stay away from me, stay away from my son, and stay far away from my husband or so help me God, I will tell him what you did. You’re nothing to me, Shane. Nothing.”

Lori stalked off to Carol’s tent, tears streaming down her face. Shane abruptly sat on the ground, fisting his hands in his hair as her words echoed through his mind. He looked up as Rick and Glenn returned to camp, their footsteps drowning out the words that had broken his heart.

“Shane, you all right, brother?” Rick said as he knelt by Shane, putting his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “You look upset. What’s happened?”

Shane shook Rick’s hand off, attempting to smile. “Nah, man, I’m ok. Just, you know, wishing things had turned out differently.”

Rick nodded and stood up, offering his hand to Shane to help him up. “Yeah, I know. I’d hoped that the CDC would be our salvation. And now here we are, back in the woods.” He sighed as he looked around the camp. “We’ll get through this, Shane. We just have to keep going, keep on fighting, keep the hope alive.”

Shane nodded, his face set in grim determination. “Keep the hope alive, damn right. Here, I’ll help you with this stuff.”

As Shane and Rick walked back to the camp, Shane determinedly kept his eyes off of Lori. For the rest of the evening, he kept mostly to himself, volunteering for an extra watch shift to give himself more time to think.

By the time the sun came up, he had figured out where things had gone wrong. He knew what he had to do to fix it.
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #18
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 1202
Characters: Dr. Judith Warren-Jenner, Dr. Edwin Jenner, various OCs as needed
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: This is the continuation of TS-19’s story, as requested by [livejournal.com profile] corellian_sugar . I carried over my 1000 word limit but I don’t really care – I needed to get all this out & I couldn’t bring myself to cut any of it.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything associated with The Walking Dead, sadly. I just like to bring the characters out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know. Concrit is always welcome!


[Roughly four months later]

Dr. Judith Warren-Jenner walked into the conference room, no longer cool and collected. This time, she had dire news to report, and very little hope to be seen on the horizon. Her colleagues knew something major was happening; they all waited around the conference table, speaking in hushed tones save for a few outbreaks of nervous laughter.

“Everyone, can I please have your attention! I’m sorry to be the one to break the news to you but the G.K.E. virus is now a global incident. There have been outbreaks in every country around the world.” As her colleagues began to speak out, seemingly all at once, Judith raised her hands, calling for silence. “Please, let me finish. The main method of transmission seems to be bodily fluids, particularly saliva. It is assumed that blood and other bodily fluids can transmit the virus as well. It is unclear at this time how the virus affects its victims. What is clear is that the victims, shortly after death, reanimate and develop a ravenous craving for flesh.

I’m sure you can imagine the state of things outside of this facility. The government has issued a state of emergency; military units have been called out. At this moment, a military blockade is being set up around this facility.”

Judith paused for breath and looked around at her colleagues. Edwin sent her a small smile of encouragement. “I know that most of you have families, loved ones that you are worried about and want to go home to. I ask that as many of you as possible stay and continue to work; we may be close to a cure and time is of the essence. However, I will not stop you if you choose to leave. I will be staying and continuing to work. Good luck to us all, no matter what we choose to do. May God have mercy on us all.”

With that, she left the conference room, barely making it to her office before breaking down in tears.

Days went by with no real progress on the cure to the G.K.E. virus. Discouraged and disillusioned, scientists began to leave the CDC, taking their chances on the outside. Many of them died within mere yards of the front doors, their screams of terror and pain unable to penetrate the thick glass of the upper level of the building.

Judith continued to work toward a cure, her husband at her side. They began to bring in test subjects; the military blockade provided an almost limitless supply of terminated “walkers”. Unfortunately, they were unable to reverse-engineer a cure for the virus. The tissue they had to work with was too far gone, too necrotic and useless for their purposes.

Within two weeks, the military blockade was overrun. Many of the remaining scientists began to lose hope; some began to lose their sanity. Those poor souls ran headlong into the throng of walkers gathering outside the facility, their hopes for freedom dashed. Morale was nonexistent but still, Judith, Edwin, and a few others persevered, convinced that if they kept going, a cure could be found.

Four weeks after the G.K.E. virus went global, Judith made a breakthrough. Edwin and one of the few remaining scientists, a brilliant man named Jorge Ramirez, went on a mission to procure another test subject; Judith needed a “fresh” sample to test her theory on. She watched from the doors, a rifle in her hands to help protect her husband and friends should they run into trouble. Edwin and Jorge had almost made it back to the safety of the facility when things went horribly wrong. One of the walkers caught Judith unaware, grabbing her and biting into the tender flesh of her arm. She was able to catch the walker with her rifle, knocking it away before shooting it in the head, but the damage was done.

Edwin ran to her, abandoning their subject and scooping Judith up in his arms to carry her back inside. He turned just in time to watch a group of walkers take Jorge down within feet of the doorway; his screams a horrifying testament to his last moments alive. Edwin barely managed to close the doors and seal them. He carried Judith to the lower level and gently laid her on one of the laboratory tables, determined that something had to be done to save her.

Tears streamed down his face as he removed her blouse to check the wound. He begged, “Judith, tell me what to do! There has to be something! We haven’t tried amputation; we can try that! Anything! Please!”

“Edwin, you and I both know that there’s nothing to be done. I’ve been infected – it’s over for me. But this is our chance to view the effects of the virus firsthand on a living specimen. You have to record it… as it happens. Record the effects, see what makes the victims reanimate. You have to, Edwin! It’s the last chance we have to save anyone!”

He argued with her, begged and pleaded with her to let him try to save her; she continued to refuse. As she grew weaker, Edwin gave in to her demands. He and the remaining facility personnel connected various machines and equipment, recording Judith’s last moments. As she drew her last breath, only Edwin remained, refusing to release her hands.

For the next two hours, one minute, and seventeen seconds, Edwin sat with Judith, holding her hands in silence.

Judith began to reanimate, opening her eyes and reaching out to Edwin. Tears streamed down his face as he drew his pistol. “I’ll do as you ask. I’ll find the cure. For you. I love you, Judith.” He put the barrel of the pistol against her head and pulled the trigger.

For the next two weeks, Edwin and his colleagues worked feverishly, using Judith’s tissues and studying the video of the virus’s effects on her brain. As time passed, the others began to lose faith, to lose hope that a cure could be found. They began to give in, to commit suicide in the hallways, unable to face the terrors that awaited them outside the facility.

Finally, only Edwin was left. He continued to work, honoring Judith’s final wishes. Until one day, he made a miscalculation and spilled chemicals on one of the sample dishes, creating corrosive fumes that spread through the lab. He dashed through the doors and into the decontamination shower, mentally cursing himself for his mistake. Then he heard words that struck fear into his heart: “ALL PERSONNEL CLEAR. FULL DECONTAMINATION IN EFFECT.”
“No!” he screamed as he turned to the doors. He tried futilely to force them open as flames engulfed the lab, destroying all of the equipment and samples there. Defeated, he hung his head and left the lab area.

Dr. Edwin Jenner made his final report. He didn’t know why he bothered; they’d been dark for almost a month. No communication from anyone on the outside. Raising his glass to the computers, he said, “I think I’m going to get drunk. Judith, cheers to you, my love. I’m sorry I let you down.”

He sat down with a bottle of wine and waited for his time to run out.
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #17
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 956
Characters: Dr. Judith Warren-Jenner, Dr. Edwin Jenner
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: [livejournal.com profile] corellian_sugar requested a fic about TS-19 – this is the first part of that. She was never named in the show and I know who Judith is in the comics but she really liked this name – it felt right, so I’m going with it. This is part one of at least two; this part sets up the rest. No one knows (or has said) how all this started; this is just one idea of how the virus that created the walkers came to be. Dr. Jenner said that it had been 194 days since Wildfire was declared - roughly 6 months. That's what I'm basing my timeline on. The G.K.E. virus is why they’re called “geeks.” I have very little medical experience & no scientific background but I hope this works and makes sense.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters from The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them from time to time. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all mistakes are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

[Roughly six months ago]

Dr. Judith Warren-Jenner walked into the conference room, gratified to see that most of her colleagues were able to step away from their work to attend the meeting. As she strode to the head of the conference table, she shared a private smile with her husband, Edwin. He’d known something big was going on but, to his credit, he respected that she was unable to share details until the meeting today. She could tell that he desperately wanted to know, and she loved him all the more because he resisted the urge to even ask. As she walked past him, she brushed her hand across the back of his shoulders, trying to communicate through her touch just how much she loved and appreciated him.

Judith settled her briefcase on the table in front of her and cleared her throat, signaling to everyone that the meeting was about to begin and all conversations should cease. “I want to thank you all for taking time away from your important work to attend this meeting today. I think that, when you hear what I have to say, you’ll agree that the best and brightest minds of the CDC will be required and that cooperation will be essential.”

She motioned to her assistant, stationed at the back of the room, and he began handing out packets of information to the scientists as Judith continued. “I’m sure that most of you have at least heard of the G.K.E. virus. For those of you that haven’t, the G.K.E. virus is a strain of mutable virus that was rumored to be in development for use in biochemical warfare. It was to be used in liquid and gas form. Unfortunately, as many of us feared, the scientists working on this virus were successful. They developed the virus and were in the process of testing its effects when the virus was stolen and apparently released. The worst part of this is that neither a cure nor a vaccine had been developed before the virus was stolen.”

Murmurs of shock and dismay broke out through the room. Judith raised her hands, signaling for quiet. “I understand how you feel. This is the medical community’s worst nightmare: a rabid strain of virus with unpredictable effects and no cure or vaccine set loose among an unsuspecting populace. However, this is where we come in. We, along with our European, African, and Australian counterparts, have been sent as much information as possible, along with the original development notes. We have been charged with the monumental task of not only recreating the virus itself, but creating a cure and vaccine against the virus.”

Judith paused for breath and looked around the room. Every eye in the room was trained on her; she saw her own fear, distress, determination mirrored in the faces looking back at her. She took a deep breath and continued.

“You have your packets of information and your directives. My office will be open to any of you should you have questions, comments, or concerns. I don’t believe I need to stress to you how important it is that we complete these objectives as quickly as possible. You’ll have unlimited access to any of our labs and equipment, as well as the full cooperation of our European, African, and Australian colleagues.

We must find a cure. We must find one soon. I know that most of you already have highly important projects on your plate. I urge you to pass these off to members of your teams so that work can continue on those as well as the G.K.E. projects.

As of 13:00 today, the CDC’s Center for Global Health has declared a state of Wildfire. I don’t have to tell you what that means. Ladies and gentlemen, good luck.”

With that statement, Judith picked up her briefcase and quickly left the room as her colleagues broke into conversation, discussing how something like this could happen as well as various theories on how to combat the G.K.E. virus. She was gratified to see everyone stirring to action, rather than giving in to panic and fear. The G.K.E. virus was terrifying, and the fact that it was loose…

Judith walked into her office and stopped short; Edwin had beaten her there somehow. He sat behind her desk, leafing through his copy of the G.K.E. paperwork. When she came in, he stood and walked to her, taking her in his arms. “Judith, are you ok?” He held her tight, stroking her back and willing her to let go of the tension she’d been holding for days. “Honey, I wish you’d been able to tell me about this. I hate the thought of you bearing this burden on your own.”

Judith laughed weakly. “It’s what I do. Director of the CDC isn’t all fun and games.” Looking up at him, she allowed her brave mask to crumple just a bit. “Edwin, I’m terrified. Seeing what this virus can do… it’s been released already. We’re so far behind and we have to completely rework the virus and find a cure. It feels impossible.”

Edwin gently squeezed her shoulders as he looked her in the eye. “But we have one thing they didn’t have.” At her questioning look, he smiled and said, “We’ve got you. You’re the most brilliant scientist I’ve ever met. If anyone can figure this out, it’s you. Okay? Now let’s get to work, Dr. Jenner. We’ve got a world to save.”

Judith smiled, feeling confident for the first time since she’d gotten news of the G.K.E. virus. Taking her husband’s hand, she scooped up her lab coat and her badge and turned to walk out the door. “Dr. Jenner, let’s go work our magic.”
lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #16
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 501
Characters: Carl Grimes, Lori Grimes, Shane Walsh, mentions Rick Grimes
Warnings: None
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters associated with The Walking Dead, much to my everlasting regret. I just like to take them out and play with them every now and then. This story follows up Flash Fiction #15, posted last night. This is unbeta’d and unedited – if you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome.

Carl sat at the kitchen table, working on his homework and flinching every time he heard his mom slam a pot on the stove. She’d been angry ever since he got home and he wasn’t sure why. He just knew that she was mad at his dad again and he was worried.

When he got off the bus, he'd caught his mom standing outside smoking and talking to his grandmother on the phone. She only smoked when she was mad at his dad; she knew he didn’t like it and she did just to “piss him off”. He’d heard her tell his dad that once, after they’d made up. This time, Carl had heard her say things to his grandmother that worried him. Things like ‘I don’t know how much more I can take,’ and ‘bring Carl and come to stay with you for a while.’

Carl looked up when he heard a police cruiser come screeching to the curb. It was his dad’s car and the lights were going, but that wasn’t his dad that came flying out of the car and running up on the porch. It was his Uncle Shane. Carl ran to open the door and he started to speak, but Shane didn’t give him a chance. “Carl, I need you to get your shoes on and get ready to go, ok? Just go get in the cruiser. Where’s your mom?”

Carl wanted to ask where his dad was and why Shane had blood on his shirt, but the panic he heard in Shane’s voice made him go do as he was asked instead. From his room, he could hear Shane talking to his mom in the kitchen. Words like “been shot”, “missed the vest”, and “in surgery.” He could hear his mom crying, her words garbled from the tears. Carl knew then that his dad had been shot. He started to cry as he hurriedly put his shoes on and ran back downstairs.

By the time he got back downstairs, his mom was crying and Shane was talking to someone on his radio. His mom grabbed him and hugged him as Shane told whoever he was talking to, “Yeah, I’ve got them and we’re on our way to the hospital. You keep us posted while we’re en route.”

“Come on, we’ve got to go,” Shane said as he herded Lori and Carl out the door, forgetting to lock it behind him. “You know he’s strong, he’s not about to give up without a fight.” Shane bundled them into the back of the cruiser and jumped in the driver’s seat. He met Carl’s eyes in the rearview mirror and smiled what he probably thought was a comforting smile as he started the car. Carl tried to smile back but he was scared. He could tell that Uncle Shane and his mom were scared too.

As they sped off to the hospital, siren and lights blaring, Carl held on to his mom and wondered if he’d ever see his dad again.

lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #15
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 416
Characters: Rick Grimes, Shane Walsh
Warnings: none really, unless Rick in pain bothers you as much as it does me
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own Rick, Shane, or anything else associated with The Walking Dead, much to my everlasting regret. Some of the dialogue comes straight from “Days Gone Bye.” The rest of it is from Rick’s head… er, my head. *grin* This is unbeta’d and unedited – all mistakes are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

Rick Grimes stood, gasping and wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. The bullet had caught him in his vest but it knocked the breath out of him. Shane came running toward him, saying, “I saw you get tagged, man. That scared the hell out of me!” Rick unbuttoned his shirt, checking his vest for the point of impact. “Me too. That son of a bitch shot me, you believe that?”

‘Thank God for that vest,” Rick thought. Every morning, Rick put on a bullet-proof vest. Most of the other officers tended to give Rick a hard time about that but he thought of it as a sort of lucky talisman. In all his years on the force, he’d never even been shot at, much less hit. ‘Until today,’ he thought, laughing nervously. He knew it terrified Lori so see that vest on him, knew that it reminded her of what could happen. She’d be thankful for it today, if she knew.

As that thought entered his mind, he turned to Shane and said, “Shane, you do not tell Lori that happened – ever! You understand?” The words had barely cleared his lips before he was hit by what felt like a fiery-hot freight train. Pain slammed through his body and he cried out, crumpling to the ground.

Above him, he could hear Shane and the other officers yelling through the barrage of gunshots that rang out. He could hear them, he knew what was happening, but it felt like time had slowed almost to a stop. His heartbeat sounded like thunder in his ears; he could barely see straight, the pain was so intense.

‘God, am I dying? I don’t want to die! What about Carl? And Lori? Please, please just let me live to see my boy grow up!’ Rick bargained with God as he lay there on the ground, pleading for more time.

Shane’s worried face filled Rick’s field of vision. “Rick, I’m here. You stay with me man, just stay with me. It’s ok, I’m here.” Shane repeated these words over and over as he ripped open Rick’s shirt and vest, pressing his hands against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. “I’m here, Rick. Stay with me, please just stay with me.” Rick wondered if repeating the words often enough could make them true.

Rick’s vision began to fade as the other officers ran over. ‘I’m scared,’ was his last thought as he mercifully passed out, escaping from the pain.
lokis_mayhem: (TWD-Shane)

Title: Flash Fiction #14
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes, Carl Grimes, OC (Shane’s girlfriend)
Word Count: 938
Warnings: Shane has a foul mouth but, other than that, nothing.
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own Shane, Rick, or anything else associated with The Walking Dead, much to my ever-lasting regret. I just like to take them out and play with them every now and then. This is pure imagination, except that Days Gone Bye gave me the idea about arguing about the lights being on. This is unbeta’d and unedited – if you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome! Ooh, also, please know that I mean no disrespect whatsoever to anyone who happens to be named Bambi.

Shane Walsh pulled his Jeep into the driveway and sighed as he remoted the garage open. He’d had a bitch of a day and now he has to come home to find every damn light in the house blazing. He parked and shut the engine off, resting his head on the steering wheel for a few moments, trying to cool his temper.

Nope, ain’t happening.

He jumped out of the Jeep and slammed the door. Then he slammed the kitchen door shut. There, that helped a little bit.

Until he walked into the living room and saw what waited for him there. His entire living room had been rearranged. New furniture covers, pictures on the wall changed, damn lace doilies on the coffee table in place of his hunting magazines. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wondering, “What circle of Hell have I slipped into now? All I wanted was a hot meal, a hot shower, and hot sex. Is that asking too fucking much?”

The person responsible for his current irritation was reclined on the couch, reading a magazine with the TV tuned to MTV and the volume cranked to ear-splitting. Shane snatched the remote off the table and clicked the TV off. She sat up and smiled, oblivious to Shane’s irritation. “Hey baby, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised with that crap cranked up like that. You wouldn’t have noticed a jet taking off in here.” He threw his hat on the table and put his hands on his hips. “Did you happen to forget that the light switch flips the other way too? Every damn light in the house is on and it’s still broad daylight outside.”

She snorted and scooped her magazine up. “You sound just like my damn father. What bug crawled up your ass anyway?”

Shane fisted his hands in his hair, trying to count to ten but only making it as far as five before he exploded. “What bug? Are you fucking kidding me?” He started ticking his irritants off on his fingers. “I had some drunk asshole throw up in the squad car. I had some kid who had his license exactly five fucking minutes run all over the bank manager’s brand new Mercedes. I had another drunk asshole decide that the courthouse hallway was the perfect place to take a piss. And then I get to come home to Lincoln Power & Light’s wet dream come true and Martha goddamn Stewart’s perfect fucking living room instead of my own. That’s my fucking problem!”

She threw her magazine down on the table and got in his face. “You know perfectly well that I don’t like the dark! And I thought you would appreciate me bringing a little class to this hovel you call a house. Hunting magazines? God, Shane, that’s beyond redneck! I thought when you gave me a key, that meant that you wanted me to be here when you came home. I thought that meant you would be asking me to move in soon. I can’t live in a place that looks like this did! I have standards you know?”

“What the hell, woman? You seriously thought I was going to ask you to move in? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

She narrowed her eyes and poked her finger in Shane’s chest. “You know what, Shane? I don’t need your shit. There are plenty of men out there who’d be happy to have me!” With that, she stormed out the door, slamming it shut on the way out.

“Good! And you can take your goddamn doily with you!” He stalked to the door, jerked it open, and threw the doily out after her. She flipped him a bird before jamming her Camaro in gear and peeling out of his driveway, narrowly missing his mailbox. Shane sighed and leaned against the door jamb. Now he had a headache and a growly stomach to add to his list of complaints. He went back inside, grabbing his keys and hat off the coffee table on his way through to the garage. “Fuck this,” he thought. “It’s dinner time at Rick’s place. At least they’ll be happy to see me.”

A few minutes later, Shane was standing on the Grimes’s doorstep, grinning through the screen door. Rick sat at the table, helping Carl with his homework, while Lori bustled around the kitchen, cooking dinner. He tapped on the door and went on inside. “Hey,” he said, “got room for one more?”

Carl grinned up at him while Rick said, “Hey brother, of course we do! But I thought you had a hot night planned with … what’s her name again?” Shane blushed a little as he replied, “Bambi.”

“'With an i',” Lori mocked. “Jesus wept, Shane, when are you going to stop fooling around with these little teenyboppers and find yourself a good woman to settle down with? Honey, help me would you? Set the table and make sure Carl scrubs his hands, ok?”

Rick stood up to do as he was asked, scooping Carl up and playfully kissing Lori on the neck as they passed by on their way to the bathroom. Lori laughed and swatted Rick on the butt before he could get out of range. It was so normal, so happy and homey in the Grimes house.

Shane grinned and said, “Someday, I suppose. For now, when I need domestic bliss, I just come to your house.” He kissed Lori on the cheek and followed Rick and Carl, his bad mood fading away a little more with each step he took.
lokis_mayhem: (TWD-walkingdeadmilo die screaming)

This may be complete and utter crap, I'm not sure. I'm tired and my poor brain just isn't functioning like it should be. I do hope you like it though!

Title: Flash Fiction #13
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Characters: Milo (If you know me at all, you know who Milo is. Just in case you don’t, he’s the Purple-Suited Zombie); Sandy (Car Zombie, so named by [livejournal.com profile] murphstheman – I just used the same name she chose); Teri (Bicycle Girl, so named by some guy we met in Omaha – for the life of me I cannot remember his name :( )
Word Count: 446
Warnings: Complete and utter foolishness. Translation for zombie speech is in brackets. I was goofing with [livejournal.com profile] luveskane one day, wondering if Pepto would work on a zombie with indigestion. Since poor Milo ate Merle and ended up with a trashed tummy, this popped into my head.
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the zombies or anything else associated with The Walking Dead, much to my ever-lasting regret. This is unbeta’d and unedited – if you see anything that needs correction, please let me know.

Milo wasn’t feeling well at all. His stomach felt awful; he hadn’t felt this bad since just before he died. He wandered around Atlanta for a while, shambling along with his fellow walkers, hoping that would make him feel a little better, until he heard someone (sort of) calling his name.

Sandy staggered out of the back of the car she was resting in, holding a partially-eaten arm in her hand. She took a bite and hailed Milo to get his attention. “Grraggh! Ggragh nnngahh?” [Hey Milo, what’s happenin’?]

Milo shambled over to Sandy, leaning against the car with her. “Graaaaaaggggggg…” [Not much, just shambling around, doing what we do.] She held out the arm she was chewing on and said, “Ggrraaggghh grr huuhh?” [Want some?]

Milo put his hand over his mouth and stepped back a little, his face turning green(er). Sandy cocked her head and said, “Grrrggg?” [What’s wrong with you? This is perfectly good. Picked it up from a butcher just this morning. At least I think he was a butcher. He had a bloody apron on.]

“Raaaawrrl. Unnnnnh,” Milo replied. [My stomach is killing me. I feel really sick.]

Sandy shook her head, a smirk on her face. “Gglak guk rrggh.” [Told you not to eat that redneck. He was rotten to the core. But did you listen? Noooooo, of course not. Serves you right.]

Teri, another friend of Milo’s and Sandy’s, crawled up. No one was sure what happened to Teri but she was missing both legs and was considerably more decomposed than the other walkers. Some suspected that she was the First, the walker that beget them all.

“Uungh rawrrr grrrrl.” [I can’t believe y’all didn’t save any of that redneck for me. You know how hard it is for me to get around and I’m so hungry. Not only did some jerk steal my bike, but now I didn’t get to eat the redneck either.]

“Grrrgh unfff lawwwl,” Sandy said, giving the arm she’d been gnawing on to Teri. [You’re lucky you didn’t have any. Milo’s sick from it. Here, sweetie, eat this.”

As Teri chowed down on the arm, Milo looked across the street thoughtfully. There was a pharmacy there; maybe something in there would work for him. “Ggrrgh grrrr.” [See you later.]

He shambled off across the street and through the broken window of the pharmacy. Looking around, he spotted what he’d been looking for. He picked up the bottle of hot pink liquid, trying to turn the lid but, no matter what he did, he just couldn’t get the bottle open. Frustrated, he threw the bottle on the floor and grabbed a box of the tablets instead.

“Grrrrrgh aargh.” [Child-proof caps. Fuck my life.]
lokis_mayhem: (TWD-bitch please)

I'm getting later and later with these! Spellcheck HATED this fic! Little red and green squiggles everywhere!

Title: Flash Fiction #12
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 896
Characters: Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Merle Dixon, mentions of others here and there
Warnings: This is set after Wildfire, before they left for the CDC.
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own Daryl, Rick, or anything else associate with The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them every now and then. This is pure imagination and follows the events in Flash Fiction #11 (posted last night). This is unbeta’d and unedited – all errors are mine. If you see anything that needs correction, please tell me! Concrit is always welcome!
“I’m goin’ back. I’m gonna find my brother, bring him back. Can’t none of y’all stop me so just make peace with it.” Daryl Dixon stomped around the campsite, packing his gear and loading it into his truck. “We can leave here, that’s fine. But I ain’t leavin’ without tryin’ to find him. He won’t have no way to follow us when he gets back.”

Rick Grimes sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Daryl, you can’t just take off into Atlanta alone. There’s no telling where Merle is and you know what the city is like now. It’s dangerous.”

“I can manage on my own just fine. Been doin’ it for years. Come if you want, I don’t care. But I’m goin’.”

Rick turned to Lori, his mouth open to try to smooth it over with her, but she cut him off before he could speak. “Fine, go ahead. You made a promise to your son that you wouldn’t leave again, for anything. But you go right on ahead and troop through Atlanta, looking for Merle Dixon. Have fun.”

She turned her back on him and stalked away, taking Carl’s hand and leading him back to their tent to finish packing. Shane smirked at Rick as he said, “Hey, man, I told you last time it was a bad idea. This time, you’re on your own.”

Rick grabbed his weapons and some extra ammo, ready to head back into the city. “Shane, you keep them safe, keep them on task to get this place packed up. We’ll be back before nightfall, ready to get out of here tomorrow.” Looking back at the tent his wife and son had just disappeared into, he lowered his voice and said, “Watch out for them, Shane. Keep them safe for me, just like you have been, ok?” Shane nodded, not trusting himself to speak other than to say, “You be careful. Those Dixons are tricky.”

Rick nodded, looking back at Daryl. Daryl was pacing like a caged lion, unable to mask his anxiety over his brother. “Shane, your Jeep is easier on gas and a hell of a lot quiet than his truck. Can we borrow it? I’d at least like to get into the city without them hearing us from a mile away.” Shane nodded and tossed Rick the keys, grinning. “Just bring it back to me. Don’t let someone steal it like you did that box truck.”

Shaking his head, Rick grinned and walked over to Daryl. “We’re taking the Jeep and I told them we’d be back by nightfall. Let’s get a move on.” He climbed into the Jeep and started it, waiting for Daryl to get his crossbow situated before driving off.

On the way to Atlanta, they discussed their plan and strategy for searching for Merle. In truth, Rick discussed and Daryl mostly grunted his agreement. Daryl wasn’t in the mood to discuss; he wanted action! He wanted to get there, find his brother, and get the hell out of Atlanta with their lives. The rest didn’t matter. When they reached Atlanta, they headed for the department store; Rick thought that the best place to start would be the alley where the fire escape came down. From there, they should be able to search for any trail that Merle might’ve left behind.

It didn’t take them long to discover what had become of Merle. They found his lifeless, partially-eaten corpse not far from the fire escape. Daryl crouched down next to his brother’s body, his face a mask of anguish and anger. Rick stood back a few paces, not wanting to intrude on Daryl’s grief.

Daryl stood, glaring at Rick. “This is your fault, Grimes. You and T-Dog and all the rest of y’all that left him here to die. His blood is on your hands!”

“Daryl, we didn’t intend to leave him. T-Dog dropped the key. I’ll take my share of the blame but you have to know that we didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Mean it or not it happened! Didn’t mean it ain’t much help to him, now is it?” Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming it at Rick’s head. “I oughta take you out, right here ‘n now for what you did.”

Rick drew his pistol, intending to aim it at Daryl until movement from the ground caught his eye. “Daryl, you’re going to want to move away from Merle. He looks hungry.”

Daryl spun around and looked at his brother only to find that Rick was right; Merle was starting to reanimate. Most of his face and was gone, but the eye that remained was bloodshot and trained on Daryl. Unearthly growls emanated from his throat as he reached for Daryl’s ankle.
Daryl jumped away from Merle’s outstretched hand. “Goddammit, Merle!” In one swift move, he’d put an arrow straight through Merle’s remaining eye.

Spinning around to get in Rick’s face, his crossbow hanging at his side, Daryl poked his finger in Rick’s chest. “That’s how you do it, Grimes. Zero tolerance for walkers. Blood don’t matter when he ain’t human no more. You fuckin’ remember that!”

He left Rick standing there, shocked, as he stalked off back to the Jeep. He swiped his hand across his eyes, wiping away all traces of tears, as he walked. He’d be damned if he’d let Rick Grimes see him cry.
lokis_mayhem: (TWD-walkingdeadmilo die screaming)

Whoo! Just made it in for today :-)

Title: Flash Fiction #11
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 382
Characters: Merle Dixon, Milo
Warnings: None
Author’s Note/Disclaimer: I don’t own The Walking Dead or any of the characters associated with it – I just like to bring them out and play with them every now and then. This is purely my imagination – my Milo was hungry and I promised him he could eat Merle. This is unbeta’d and unedited – all mistakes are my own. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!


Merle climbed down the fire escape as best he could; he tried to stay quiet but the pain and loss of blood from having to amputate his own hand was making him clumsy. He muttered obscenities, threats, accusations… everyone was to blame for his current predicament, right on up to God Himself. He was so lost inside his own rant that he didn’t pay close enough attention to what he was doing; his feet slipped out from under him and, unable to catch himself, he fell to the pavement below.

Stunned, the breath knocked out of him, Merle tried to struggle to his feet but his ankle wouldn’t support his weight. He lay on his back, cursing and ranting about his rotten luck. “That damn cop, this is all his fault. He chained me up, left me to die… I’ll get him. I’m gonna make him pay.”
Merle was finally able to struggle to a sitting position. He leaned against the wall, panting from the exertion and the pain, his face red. As he looked up, he saw a horde of walkers coming toward him, drawn to him by the noise he was making. “Aw fuck, just what I need. More goddamn geeks.”

The walkers advanced on him, making a god-awful growling sound. At the head of the pack, a walker in a purple suit shambled steadily toward Merle, looking at him almost thoughtfully. “You think you can get me?! Come on then!” Merle finally managed to struggle to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. He brandished the crowbar he’d found inside the building, swinging it in a wide arc in front of him. “I’ll take you all out,” he screamed.

The walkers swarmed around Merle; some of them were taken down by his crowbar, only to struggle back to their feet. Others took an unlucky shot to the head and didn’t rise again. The walker in the purple suit hung back a little, watching his brothers bear down on their prey.

Merle fought as hard as he could but he was overwhelmed by greater numbers. As the walkers took him down, their teeth gnawing into his flesh and ripping it from his bones, Merle’s last conscious thought was that the walker in the purple suit was smiling at him.

lokis_mayhem: (Default)

Title: Flash Fiction #10
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Word Count: 847
Characters: Several characters are mentioned but really, this is all about Rick and his hat (I almost feel like “hat” should be capitalized there)
Warnings: None
Disclaimer/Author’s Note: I don’t own Rick Grimes, his hat, or anything else associated with The Walking Dead – I just like to take them out and play with them every now and then. I owe a thank you to my friend @xRickGrimesx for indirectly giving me the inspiration on this one – I hope you like it! This is unbeta’d and unedited – all mistakes are my own. I’m fairly sure that my timeline is a bit borked but I figure that it’s close enough for government work. If you see anything that needs correction, please let me know! Concrit is always welcome!

I hope you enjoy <3
[10 years ago]

“Lori, I’m home,” Rick called out, shutting the front door behind him. He figured Lori was still unpacking in one of the other rooms in the house. She’d been really busy; the living room was put together and most of the kitchen boxes were unpacked. Rick looked around and smiled. They’d just bought this place together, excited to begin their life together in Cynthiana. This place would be good for them, he could feel it. And with a new baby on the way, they couldn’t have picked a better time to move!

As Lori came into the living room, Rick smiled and struck a pose, showing off his new uniform. “What do you think, honey? You’re looking at Cynthiana’s brand new Deputy Sheriff.” Lori laughed as she threw her arms around Rick, welcoming him home with a kiss. “Hmmm, you look great, hon. Not too sure about that hat though.”

Insulted, Rick took his hat off and looked at it. “What do you mean, ‘not sure about the hat’? This is a great hat!” He put it back on and cocked it at an angle. “I think it makes me look dashing.” Grinning, he scooped Lori up in his arms, carrying her back to the bedroom. They’d been married for several years now but he still couldn’t get enough of her. He kissed her softly as he sat her down on the bed, stepping back to take his jacket and weapon off. He tossed them on the chair and knelt on the bed as looked down at her. “Don’t you agree?”

A wicked smile on her face, Lori leaned up on her elbow and caressed his cheek. “On second thought, it is a sexy hat. Why don’t you leave it on for me?” Rick threw his head back in laughter as he cuddled his beloved wife close to his heart. “For you, my love, anything.”

Life was good, back then.

[Two months ago]

“You know what the worst part is, Rick? Sometimes I wonder if you even care about us at all.”

Shocked, hurt, Rick could only stand there in the doorway, watching as Lori drove Carl to school. Rick lifted his hand in a wave and blew a kiss as Carl looked back and waved. He watched until the car turned the corner, disappearing from sight. Turning away from the door, Rick picked up his hat and put it on, pulling it low over his eyes. Today, instead of protecting his eyes from the glare of the sun, the hat would protect him from others seeing the pain in his eyes.

[One month ago]

Rick opened his locker at the police station, looking for his spare uniform. If he was going to Atlanta, he would probably do better to look like a police officer. As he looked inside, he really smiled for the first time in months. There, on the shelf, was his hat. Someone, Shane probably, must’ve taken his locker key and slipped his hat inside. After he got dressed, he put his hat on, instantly feeling part of the old Rick Grimes come back.

[One week ago]

“Guys! Guys, we’re cut off! We’ve got to go!” T-Dog kept a tight hold on the boy in front of him.

Rick looked back at the walkers between him and the street. “Get back to the lab. Go!” He turned to grab the bag of guns as Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder. “Come on. Damn, let’s go!” Daryl said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, impatient and riled up. Rick looked down, seeing his hat lying there on the pavement where Glenn had dropped it.

Hesitating only for a moment, Rick bent down and scooped the hat up before he ran, Daryl at his heels. He knew it was silly, but he just couldn’t leave it there.

[Five minutes ago]

Everyone in the RV was so quiet – shell-shocked, heartbroken, disillusioned. They’d gone as far as they dared for the day; they needed to find shelter for the night. Spotting what looked to be a good place to set up for the night, Rick pulled the battered RV off on the side of the road. Turning to look at the others, he quietly said, “We can camp here tonight. Shane, Daryl, and I will check the building, make sure it’s clear. Dale, you be ready to drive if we give the signal to get out of here, ok?”

He stood and grabbed the bag of guns that he felt like he’d been carrying for years. Unzipping it, he found his hat, sitting there atop the weapons. Closing his eyes to hold back the tears he felt, he reached out and picked the hat up, his fingers gently brushing the insignia.

You see, for most people, the hat was just a part of the uniform, just like the badge or the gun. For Rick Grimes, the hat was more than that; the hat had become a part of him, a part he wasn’t willing to let go of any time soon.


lokis_mayhem: (Default)

June 2016



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