Chapter Text
There was a sort of calm that appeared at the end of the world.
When you were stuck in the middle of humanity’s final death throes, desperate hands cloying for anything they can find to save them, the panic was almost washed away into a sea of numbness, and the world became… quiet.
It was sort of nice. Minus the zombies.
Of course, it would be a lot easier to appreciate had Kalena not woken up in a bush by the freeway to the sounds of dead people walking and the realisation that she was suddenly eight years old.
She’d hidden up the first tree she could find and set to work waking herself up - blinking very hard (and giving herself a headache in the process), counting her fingers (and toes), checking the time (she had no watch, but the sun was high enough that it had to be past noon) - nothing worked.
The only thing she’d managed was figuring out her age - the scar she’d gotten from breaking her ulna at her eighth birthday party was fresh and aching, though the cast she’d had to spend a month wearing was thankfully absent.
She’d spent the next hour of her bleak new reality hiding up a tree and desperately poking herself with increasingly sharp branches in the hopes of waking up. It had lasted until she’d sliced her finger open and fearfully watched as the blood trickled slowly off her hand, coalesced on the bottom of her branch, and fell into the snapping jaws of a re-animated corpse, lifeless fingers grasping desperately at the trunk of her hiding place.
Kalena had never moved so quickly in her life.
She’d leapt from the tree, landing heavily on her side, and scrambled into an upwards position before booking it as quickly and as quietly as she could manage.
From there, it had been surprisingly easy to make her way away from the nearby road and into the depths of the forest. She was small and quiet enough not to draw any attention, and incoming zombies could be easily lured away by a rustling bush behind them.
There were a lot of rocks on the forest floor, and Kalena had always had impeccable aim, even as a bare-handed eight year old.
She wished she knew where the hell she was going. She wished for a lot of things right now, like for her feet to stop hurting, or the ability to wake up, or a cold bottle of Fanta, but a destination was probably the most realistic of all those things
She’d been wandering slowly down the concrete for almost an hour, glittery barbie sandals uncomfortably tight around her heel, when she heard the quiet creep of unfamiliar footsteps.
Kalena turned, face flushed and sweaty. If her summertime freckles hadn’t been there when she woke up, they were certainly making an appearance now, limited shade from the trees be damned. She was already halfway under a bush before she caught sight of the stranger.
At the edge of a clearing, just under the sweeping branches of an oak tree, a dark-haired man and a blonde woman were trudging through the foliage, footsteps heavy in a way that would have worried Kalena had her heart not already grown wings, soaring in her chest with a childlike glee that matched her new age.
People.
Live ones, that was certain. Kind ones… weren't so guaranteed.Kalena reached into the pockets of her jeans, palmed her heaviest rock, and bent down to fill her pockets full of pebbles. Heart full of helium or not, she refused to be foolish.
Slowly, she stood up, bush rustling with her movements. The duo turned, and in lieu of having anything else to do, Kalena waved.
They stumbled to a stop, eyes wide. She took notice of the sticks they held - long and metal with a strange loop on the end. Some sort of animal catcher? Person catcher? She took a step back.
“H-hello?” The woman called.
“Um…hi.” Kalena replied awkwardly. “Are you nice?”
The man let out a disbelieving chuckle.
“I’d like to think we are.” He told her, glancing at his companion before looking back at her. “You okay, girl?”
“No?”
“Are you lost?” The woman asked. “Where’s your family?”
“Gone.” Kalena said, simply. “Where’re yours?”
The pair exchanged a hesitant glance, before the woman huffed, and gestured for Kalena to come closer.
“We have a farm, just about fifteen minutes away. Would you… uh… would you like to come with us?” She asked.
“...What’re those stick things for?” Kalena asked.
“These?” The woman raised her stick. “They’re for catching pigs.”
Behind her, the man frowned, but said nothing.
“Not for killing people?” Kalena clarified.
“No!” The woman cried, affronted. “God no, of course not!”
Kalena snorted.
“Just had to make sure.” She waded through the bush towards the pair, twigs tangling in her hair. The man offered her a hand as she tried to push forwards, and she smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks.”
She took his ha
—
She turns to Shane, panic roiling in her gut despite the calm she tries to inject into her tone.
“Down to my last.” She says.
“Me too.” He replies, looking her dead in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” She thinks, confused for a moment before suddenly there is a bang and then pain, lodged deep into her torso and she screams, falling to the ground.
Something tightens around her back and the bag, he’s going for the bag, and she cries in pain as she is pulled backwards.
“Will you give it!” Shane (traitortraitortraitorwhatthehell) shouts, pulling her backwards. “Give it!”
She tugs back - how could she not? - and he kicks her in the wound he inflicted, once, then twice, and she screams once more.
She grips the back of his head and tugs, and the traitor growls, animalistic. There is another bang, and her chest aches, but her throat is raw and tired and all she can do is groan as the gun is prised out of her hand and then the bag is gone and she’s empty and all she can do is grab onto the traitor with all her dying might as he rears back and screams for her to let go.
And then he’s gone, and she’s alone on the ground for a single, almost peaceful second, before the monsters (thatswhatheyaretheyremonsterstheycantbesickthisisworsethansick) are on top of her, ripping into her flesh with their rotting teeth and her throat is raw and open and bloody and she screams as she is torn apart (screamsforthefleeingmanandhistreacheryandherwifeohgodpatriciashessosorrypatri-)
Her vision goes dark.
—
nd and stumbled, legs trembling beneath her as she struggled to stay standing. The man (corpse) lurches forwards, steadying hands on her shoulders.
“Woah, woah!” He cries, like she’s a startled horse. “You alright?”
“Are you hurt?” The woman surges forward, eyes shifting from startled to analytical within seconds as she looked Kalena over. “Bit?”
Kalena pressed her hand to her gut. It was clean. No blood, no viscera.
“What was that? What the fuck was that?” She thought, goosebumps prickling her arms in spite of the warm weather.
Kalena looked up at the woman (Patricia?).
“I’m okay.” She lied. “Sorry. I… it’s been a while since I’ve met someone nice.”
That did the trick. The woman’s face softened, and she reached out to pat Kalena’s shoulder. Kalena flinched, phantom corpses grasping her arms, and the woman drew back.
“You’re alright now, sweetie.” The woman said, voice soft and warm. “We’ve gotcha.”
—
The (dead) man's name was Otis. The (wife) woman’s name was Patricia. They led her through the woods with quiet chatter and sure steps. They’d clearly taken this route a number of times, and they trekked through already-broken twigs with a casualness that could only be borne of routine.
“And you?” Patricia had asked, once they were done introducing themselves. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Kalena.”
“That’s a lovely name.” Patricia said. “Where’s it from?”
“Hawai’i. It’s where my dad is from.”
“Always wanted to go to Hawaii.” Otis said, cheerfully. “It always seemed like the place to be.”
“It’s really pretty.” Kalena agreed. “But we moved away when I was six, ‘cause my grandma got really sick.”
“Six, huh?” Otis smiled. “And how old are you now, Kal?”
“Eight.”
“That’s a mighty big age to be.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.” Kalena grumbled.
“Well, you just wait a while, little miss, and soon you’ll be as big as the trees around us.”
Kalena opened her mouth to object, a small smile warming the edges of her cheeks, but stopped as the trees grew sparse and she caught sight of a hill, covered in golden grass.
“We’re almost there.” Patricia told her. “Just up the hill, and then we can get Hershel to take a look atcha.”
“Who’s Hershel?”
“He’s the owner of the farm. He’s real nice, and he’s very good of taking care of people. Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands.” Patricia smiled.
They ascended the hill, grass tickling Kalena’s feet through her sandals as she moved to swat a buzzing swarm of midges away from her face. A house began to take form at the top - a red chimney, followed by another, followed by a green roof and white walls. It was beautifully picturesque, framed prettily by the golden rays of the slowly setting sun.
As they approached the house, a figure exited, hand raised in a wave. They paused at the sight of her, then turned back and called something further into the house. They then stepped forward, and as the glare of the sun sunk into the nearby trees, Kalena was able to make the figure out to be a woman - thin and decently tall with short brown hair and a wary frown on her face. She jogged towards them, and called out:
“Everythin’ okay?”
“Yee-up!” Otis replied, voice lowering in volume as the woman came closer. “Just got a little sidetracked, is all.”
“Who’s this?” The woman asked, gesturing to Kalena.
“This is Kalena.” Patricia said, “We found her in the woods. She, ah… she ain’t got nowhere to go."
“‘S that right?” The woman shook her head, frowning, before leaning down to meet Kalena’s eyes. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you Kalena. I’m Maggie.”
She stuck out her hand. Kalena stared at it, a lump of worry working its way down her throat and settling firmly in her stomach.
“Will this make me see her death as well?”
After a few awkward moments of deliberation, Maggie withdrew.
“That’s okay, honey.” She said, “Just take things at your own pace.”
Behind her, the door to the farmhouse opened, and a small number of people poured out. Maggie straightened out her legs, and gestured for the trio to follow.
“Here, come meet my pa. He’s a vet, do you know what that means?”
“He looks after animals.” Kalena said.
“That’s right. He’s real good with fixin’ animals, and that means he’s also real good at fixin’ people. You hurt anywhere, Kalena?”
“Just a scratch on my finger.” She admitted. The bleeding had stopped hours ago, but the small slice she’d made in her desperate attempt to escape this nightmare still stung.
“Well, we can get that fixed up in no time.”
As they made their way to the house - Maggie in front of her and Otis and Patricia a little ways behind, talking in quiet, indistinguishable voices - Kalena could make out the other silhouettes at the door. Two teenagers - a boy and a girl - and one older man who could only be Hershel, bright eyes twinkling under the shade.
The teenage girl gasps, tugging on the boy’s arm as she stares at Kalena. Maggie waves a hand at her, and leads the group up the steps onto the porch, where Otis and Patricia sidle up to the teenagers and bring them aside, hushed whispers echoing off the roof of the porch. She heard a few snippits of 'she okay?' and 'don't crowd her now', but the rest of their quiet conversation was gone with the wind.
“Kalena, this is my dad, Hershel, and those over there are Jimmy and my sister, Beth. Dad, this is Kalena. Patricia and Otis found her wanderin’ the forest. Alone.”
“Alone, hm?” Hershel leans down to her level, hands resting on his knees. “You must be a smart girl, to make it this far all by yourself. You hurt, little miss?”
“Just a scratch.”
“Something got you?”
“Just a tree.”
“Ah. They can be vicious, trees. Especially the maples.” Hershel winked. “You hungry?”
“Mh-hm.”
“We’ve got plenty of food. How do you feel about carrots?” Hand resting over her back, Hershel herded her into the house. Kalena glanced back at the slowly closing door behind her, golden sunlight spilling like a river onto the welcome mat.
“You’re safe now, honey.” Maggie said.
Kalena didn’t believe that one bit.