Chapter Text
Mariana thought it was over.
It wasn't as painful as she thought it'd be, all things considered. What hurt was the last thing she saw — Javi, Gabe. Having to leave her behind because of the bastards that had shot her and Kate and ambushed them. Not that she blamed them, of course. Nobody survives a gunshot wound to the head. For one second, she was just a happy kid. She'd just gotten that candy bar Javi had saved for her in the junkyard. She had her Walkman and headphones. They were all together, and they were happy. For just one moment, she was just that. A joyful girl, sharing a laugh with her family after their reunion. Maybe in another universe, she could've learned a bit more about that Tripp guy, and that Clementine girl. They seemed around the same age; maybe she could've been a friend.
But the next moment, it was all gone. Mariana Garcia was dead.
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Or so she thought.Still in the dust, she groggily opened her eyes and stirred. Am I a muerto? she immediately thought, wondering if she had turned after death. It's what happens, right? No matter how you die, no matter what age you are, you come back. The new world shows no mercy, not even to children. Mariana found herself locked in her own body, unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to do anything, but just look on. She was an observer, a fantasma. But when she heard the voices, she knew she couldn't be. She was still here. The sound of boots approaching, crunching against the old red dirt she lay in, made her whole body shiver in fear. Did they come back to finish the job? She thought grimly, before a more positive thought forms in her mind. Did Uncle Javi come back for me? Neither of her thoughts proved to be true. The boots continued onward, until they were basically on top of her. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Jingle, jingle, jingle.
They step over the knocked over wire fence, the one the muerto horde steamrolled through like it was nothing. So much for this place possibly being safe, right? What kind of idiot would think that this old piece of shit would be safe enough to house a growing family from a thousand muertos? Ha ha! Ha...
It was her. She was the idiot that thought this old piece of shit that Pipo "wouldn't spend $5 bucks at an auction on", as he used to say, could keep them all safe. Her safe.
Finally, the figures make their way to where she can observe them from this locked up place in her corpse. It was hard to see, especially with the blood and dirt caked onto her face, but she could make them out. Two boys. Young. Also Latino. Maybe a solid five years older than her. The first, a boy in a bulletproof SWAT vest and the baseball cap, double-tapped every muerto they walked past. One stab to the head. Quick and calculated. Dios mio, is this how I'm gonna go? She asks, panicking internally. One stab to the head? After surviving all that? The other boy, the one with the leather jacket and a baseball bat and the one she mistook for Javi for a second, nonchalantly goes around, poking anything that looked dead in the head. Until he sees her. Oh shit.
More specifically, her Walkman.
He slowly approaches, eyeing it curiously. His friend, the boy in the Virginia Cavaliers hat, frowns upon seeing him making a move on looting a presumed dead girl. "Come on, man," he chastises, looking disappointed as he grips his rifle tighter. "leave the dead be, Vic." Vic, who looks back at his friend, shrugs as he crouches down to Mariana's level, reaching towards the cassette player. "Not like she's using it anymore. Are ya, dear?" he rolls his eyes, refocusing on looting of what little she had left. No, no! This had to be her last chance. If she couldn't give them a sign now- just one, she won't get the second chance.
As he reached out to pry the Walkman from her hands, her fingers twitched, and Mariana grabs his hand. Not forcefully, like a muerto's grip before it sinks its teeth into your neck. Softly, like a girl barely clinging to life with everything she's got left. Vic's head whips towards her, eyes blown wide in shock. He screams, jumping back. "Holy shit! Christian, you see this shit?!" He asks, as Christian whips his rifle around to level it at her forehead. "She just grabbed me!"
Mariana tries to get something — anything out. She's currently deciding between, Yes! I'm still here! and Fuck you, pendejo. She can't make up her mind, so all that comes out is a pained moan, as tears of relief pour from her remaining eye. Christian slowly crept up, extending his index and middle finger and guiding it to her wrist. He quickly switches to the side of her neck, right beneath her jaw. "She's alive. Pulse's there." He bluntly informs Vic. Mariana softly whimpers, nodding softly in confirmation.
It's then she feels her consciousness slipping away from her, vision blurring and darkening. She sees Vic stand up, calling out to someone in the distance. "Holy shit! Hey, Zed! ZED! We got a live one!" He screams, the last words echoing through her skull as she passes out again, leaving her fate unknown for now...