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Snippet #2587273

located in Season 3, a part of The Walking Dead: Online, one of the many universes on RPG.

Season 3

"The Fall"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sarah Hawke (NPC) Character Portrait: Brooke Callaway (NPC)
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# Sarah Hawke #


...Three Days Earlier...


"In the name of the Father, the Son, and of the Holy Spirit...?" Sarah said shifting uncomfortably on the wooden seat inside the confessional booth, trying to remember what came after. All she could muster was a heavy sigh as she dug her fingers into the fur behind Charlie's ears, nervously. "Uhh-- sorry, I forget the next part. Either way though-- forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

She could hear the fabrics of the Priest's robe shuffling as he to situated himself on the other side of the partition. His blurry visage passed between its interwoven frame, barely visible. "Speak your mind, my child..." his grizzled voice breathed out softly.

"I-I did things today... things I'm not proud of. And at a certain point, I realized-- I was going to get away with it all. There's no one to arrest me... no repercussions... no more society. These... things that we're being forced to do to survive... they're horrible." Her voice faltered, skipping a beat as she tried to find her breath. "How are we supposed to come back from this? After everything we've done..."

"It's a blessing that you've come this far on your own," the priest replied gruffly as he rubbed his metal crucifix between his forefingers. "To have survived this long takes true courage. That will never leave you."

Sarah buried her face in her hands, wiping away some of the dirt beneath her eyes. She sat back up, resting the heels of her hands on her knees as she breathed in through her nose, clearing her thoughts. "Listen-- everything leaves you. Everything dies. And all we have... is what hasn't been lost already-- our friends.. our families... our world? Our future?" She shook her head, reaching out blindly with her hand as it found the top of Charlie's head again-- a comforting gesture born out of habit. The dog, after all, had been her only anchor through her whole ordeal. He tilted his nose up at her, nuzzling into the nook of her knee-- happy to have a roof over his head. "I've had enough opportunities to learn that first hand..." Sarah finished, running through the events of the past week in her mind.

The priest exhaled all his breath in one deep sigh. "That's an exceptionally bleak view of things, my child. Hope is all we have left…"

Sarah's eyes began to well up as her hands clenched the fabric leggings of her pants. The truth of his words stung in a special way knowing what she now knew. She didn't have much of that anymore. Hope. Hope was what got you killed these days. It was unfortunate that it was also the only thing keeping some people going. Certainly enough-- irony was alive and well in the apocalypse. The tears, much to her dislike, kept flowing regardless.

"I killed a man today..." she allowed herself to say, her voice strained from exhaustion and regret. She could hear the priest shuffle uncomfortably in his seat on the other side of the partition. "A-And I don't even care so much about that, cause the worst part is... it doesn't matter. We're all already dead. You know that, right? It doesn't matter if we die from a bite or a bullet... we come back. As one of them.”

”S-Surely that can’t be true…” he replied, thinly -- his voice faltering slightly. ”I’ve seen it with my own eyes… we're fucked, Preacher. I took a crowbar and I hit a man in the face with it and left him for those things out there... and I can only feel like I did him a favor. Like I saved him from a worse fate. I don't even feel bad about it. I'm supposed to feel something about it though, right? Then why don't I feel guilty?" A thousand thoughts swirled around her head as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks. She wiped at them with her sleeves as she tried to continue, not allowing the deadening silence to overwhelm her thinking. "Am I a bad person because of that?" She sat up, trying to calm herself down with gentle controlled breaths. "I can't imagine Hell is any worse than this place..." she blubbered, trying to bring some humor into her continuously darkening world. She sniffed back her tears and continued dabbing at her eyes. "I don't want it to get easier. Surviving like this. Killing. But I know it's going to-- and then we're going to be changed... forever. We'll become who we have to just to survive and we won't be able to turn that off. My b-brother--" she stopped as his name got caught in her throat. She squinted her eyes to stem off the tide of tears coming on again and shook her head, solemnly. "You talk about hope... well I promised I'd save him. Somehow. He's counting on me. And he's all I have..."

Charlie suddenly rose from next to her feet, a deep growl bubbling up in his throat as his fur bristled. Sarah laid her hand firmly on the back of his head, trying to steer his attention to her. "And you, of course--" she muttered, looking down at her canine companion. "I'd never forget you, Charlie... never." But the dog struggled from her grip and leapt up towards the latticed partition separating the booths, clawing at the wood. "Charlie! Calm down... what are you doing?"

She tried to pull the dog back from the window so she could get a better look, but he struggle against her grip-- frantically pawing at the window, alternating between it and the door. "Father? Is something out there? What's going on?" But there was only the silence beneath Charlie's intensifying growls and whimpers.


### BARK BARK BARK CRASH!!! ###


The preacher's bloodied hand burst through the wooden panelling followed immediately by his hulking frame, falling onto her and the dog. The milky whites of his eyes bore down on her as she wrestled with his arms and he gradually pinned her into the corner. Charlie went apeshit beside the man, pulling on a huge chunk of cloth and flesh as he attempted to free Sarah from the creature... but the truth of the matter was: the space was just too small. The preacher's pale face gnashed away at her with his teeth, various chunks of wood acting as a small buffer between her and the hideous thing as they got caught up between the two. The weight of his body bore down on her, trapping her further.

Sarah grappled with his arms, fighting to keep him at bay as her hands grew slick with the warm blood coating his freshly cut wrists. It complicated the grip she had fought so hard to maintain as she screamed and struggled to no avail. Apparently that hope he had spoken of had run out. It hadn’t taken him long to give up what little he had left. Sarah wondered how long she’d be able to hold onto her own… if she survived long enough for it to matter at all. She tussled with the flaps of his robes, trying to gain some kind of advantage-- losing sight for a moment of the creature’s face and mouth. The sheer cacophony of the enclosed space mixed with that of Charlie’s frantic barking and the vicious snarls of her assailant raided her senses as she felt her muscles weakening quickly. It was then that the distinct gleam of the dead preacher’s dangling crucifix came into sight between a few folds of his black robe. It was just low enough for her to be able to grab, she thought-- and instantly maneuvered to do so as she countered the weight of the preacher’s body-- rolling to one side with him as he fell into her. To her dismay, however-- the metal she grabbed onto happened to be the sheathe part of an overtly-religious letter opener. It slid off effortlessly, sending Sarah falling back into the corner. Before she could react, the preacher lunged into her shoulder-- digging in with his sharp teeth. A scream erupted from Sarah’s lips as her hands found the blade and ripped it from the chain surrounding the walker’s neck. Without even thinking, she jammed it through the preacher’s pale eye, using it as leverage to propel the beast back into its side of the booth with one large shove. As soon as the blade met its target, she could almost felt the weight dissipate in an instant as the creature fell limp and she threw the creature off of herself.

She collapsed in a blood-soaked heap back on her side of the confessional, grasping at the raw bite on her shoulder-- the tattered remnants of her shirt hanging limply around the fresh wound. Charlie cowered into the corner, still keeping a wary eye on the suddenly motionless corpse mere feet from them. He looked back and forth between the walker and Sarah, his tail retreating between his legs as he licked at her hand.

”Oh my God…” Sarah stammered, the reality of the situation dawning on her instantly. ”No, no, no, n-no, no….”




# # #



”No…. no… no…..”

”Hey-- Hey! It’s all right, it’s all right… you’re safe,” Brooke assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder to quiet her. Sarah’s eyes snapped open as she flailed out-- knocking the tray full of food and water out of Brooke’s hands as it all splattered across the ground. She scurried back on her hands and feet, suddenly aware that one of her arms had been handcuffed to a metal handrail that ran the length of the wall. She tugged at it uselessly as Brooke began to scoop up what she could back onto the tray.

”Everything’s fine,” she sighed, ”I didn’t mean to frighten you or anything…” Her eyes lingered on the shoddy patch job over the girl’s wound; a half-assed job done in the heat of the moment after they had discovered her. As if they didn’t want her infection to get… infected. Sarah looked at it too, making note that she’d need to change that later if she happened to survive another night.

Sarah turned to lay eyes on the stranger in front of he and saw the curve of the woman’s stomach beneath the fabric of her shirt. Sarah’s eyes bulged, and she spoke her first words in several day of silence. ”Y-You’re--”

Brooke nodded, sheepishly-- rubbing her belly softly. ”Yeah…”

”I-I’m so…”

”It’s fine,” Brooke replied, calmly. ”You didn’t know.” She had managed to get most of the spilled food back onto the tray-- at least the salvageable parts. She crossed back over to Sarah and laid the tray on the ground, sliding it over to her. ”I’ll have to go get you something else to drink,” she offered, despondently.

Sarah just looked at her, unsure of who this woman was-- or why she was being kept locked up. Brooke must have sensed the same questions in Sarah’s eyes, because she answered as if she knew what was on the poor girl’s mind.

”It’s only a precaution,” she began, nodding at the cuffs on her wrist. ”You’re free to leave if you want to. Val just didn’t want to risk having you free to roam if--” Brooke stopped, unsure of how to finish that thought. None of them were sure what Sarah’s fate would be after being bitten. But even if she survived by some miracle, surely there was more in store for her down the road. ”Y’know, a lot of us out there have been pulling for you. We weren’t sure if you were gonna make it for awhile there… I really don’t know how you’ve survived this long, to be honest-- but it’s a good thing you did. These are good people. We aren’t your enemies. We just wanna see you get better.”

Sarah believed the words she was saying. She seemed like the honest type. And besides, she had enough problems of her own without needing to lie. The thought of bringing a new life into this world was terrifying, even with an outside perspective. What that would mean in the greater scheme of things was confounding. But to rebuild humanity, they would have to start somewhere.

Why not here?

”My name is Sarah… Hawke,” she managed weakly as a sign of peace.

”It’s nice to meet you, Sarah. I’m Brooke.” She stood up, brushing off her legs. ”I should get you some more water… we have lots to catch up on.”