Dixie Fiend

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Writing a post tonight, will be around for the remainder of the evening.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Plasma Yeah dude, you gotta stop that. It's gonna get your ass eaten by a Walker Jamie style. Lol

@Lady Amalthea

You're right, I shouldn't be waiting until the end of the week to post. It just holds everyone else up.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Interacting With: The fray of people in Newnan.
● Location: Newnan.
● Time: Afternoon.

Dexter didn't sign up for this. It wasn't the most flattering opening line, given how selfish it was. People were dying with every minute that passed. Did they sign up for that? Did they deserve it? No. For the moment, Dexter overlooked those small details, he'd have time to be empathetic later – when there wasn't dozens of corpses converging on their location.

It was a bitter outcome though, much like the saying of "out of the fire and into the frying pan". Except, shit seemed to be going, "out of the fire, into the frying pan, and then into a blast furnace hurdling towards a dying star". The stress of it all was overwhelming, flooding his mind with anxiety that racked his body with chills and nervous fidgeting.

Dexter felt small again as the world seemed to unfold around their vehicle. His companions at his side didn't feel like companions anymore, but strangers. More and more strangers with strange faces from strange places. Zoie was the first to action as they rolled through the gates of hell, swinging off the truck and onto the ground to join the chaos. He caught a glimpse of a knife, or two, in her hands that looked straight out of Riddick's cooking set. God he loved the Riddick movies, it was the only unrealistic action movie he could ever stomach.

He lost her though as she disappeared out of the view of the cab's window where he sat, and he immediately turned looking onward as he heard an unfamiliar voice. " I need you to swing this big bastard around the truck and run blocker for our unit. Destination's the Infirmary. You're taking on passengers, back in the dump body. You read me? Do you fucking read me, James? " Dexter kept his eyes between Ash and James as they spoke briefly, not recognizing Alicia's name but eventually putting the image together that she was likely the one who was taken at the Ralls Road manor. Dexter kept his silence as per usual as shit went through the motions, reaching over his shoulder and adjusting his backpack so that he may eventually retrieve his drywall hammer. Without a loaded gun, the Fat-Max was the only decent weapon he had.

The talk drew to an end with Ash as James passed a rifle and its last respective magazine out the driver-side window. Dexter gave a discreet last glance towards Ash as he departed and Black James began to pull the Hordebuster around. He gauged that the guy had some authority here, the way he carried himself and the way he spoke with conviction. Seemed to be a straight-shooter.

Dexter didn't dwell on it though, his thoughts interrupted by a sharp whine from the front end of the truck. The engine rattled, followed by a few metallic pops and then silence. Dexter looked around, out one window and then out the other, turning in his seat uncomfortably. He then looked over James' shoulder, looking for some sort of plan. The hell happened? Were they stuck, or was it just a brief technical difficulty? He glanced sidelong again, seeing all kinds of people moving around outside. Was it safe?

He reached past Richard and put a hand on the handle of the cab door, stopping as he grabbed it for a second. Dexter was scared. He didn't want to go out there, he didn't want to be here. He was helpless.

Jaime must have been thinking the same thing.

Dexter was shouldered slightly as Jaime climbed past when his door wouldn't open, going to the passenger side of the Hordebuster. The kid was fast, or maybe Dexter was just slow and didn't react fast enough. He had the door open and was on his way out in mere moments, and Dexter couldn't help but admire Jaime. The kid was brave, perhaps planning to actually get out there and help someone unlike Dexter who simply sat on his thumbs like a scared child.

Good for him, Dexter thought. The thought however, was quickly taken back as Jaime stumbled out the open doorway onto the ground. He was out of Dexter's vision, but that didn't matter when the screams came.

" Oh fuck. " Dexter exclaimed, voice cracking as he clambered past Richard to the door, moving like an encumbered crab in the claustrophobic space of the truck cab. He shoved the door open and sprawled out onto the ground, stumbling just like Jaime had done when he got out the side. His palms came down on the rough asphalt, scuffing up his hands as he tumbled out. Dexter straightened up hastily, reaching around his side for his hammer.

He stepped towards the flank of the Hordebuster, hoping to get around to help Jaime when the screams started to muffle. Dexter stopped, his hand still fiddling with the strap holding his hammer to the outside of his backpack. He stood there frozen, looking around, back now to the truck. It was over, and Dexter was finding it difficult to muster up the desire to at least TRY and help. What was the point?

Quickly, he cut out the pessimistic thoughts. It was for his own good, at least now. Dexter backtracked towards the front end of the Buster, putting a hand to the driver's door. Dexter stood to one side of the door, out of the way. His expression was torn as he looked to James, trying to convey his emotions over all the shit going down. Could he just leave Jaime there, a mere couple meters way from where he stood, getting ripped apart as he awkwardly looked upon the man that saved his life at Ralls.

Fuck, this was hard. " Tell me what to do. Please. " Dexter said urgently, looking over his shoulder briefly towards a pair of unfamiliar folk nearby, then back to James. " Just don't make me go over there and put it through Jaime's skull. I can't do it. " Dexter felt like a coward. He felt out of touch with what was going on, he had no control and no sense of what was important, and how to react, what to do. He lowered the drywall hammer to his side as he took a step back from the truck, giving ample room for Victor and Richard to exit where he stood before.

" Tell me what to do, where to go, who to talk to, whatever it is and I'll do it. " The words felt like a nuisance. Dexter viewed himself as a liability, which was a thought he wasn't accustomed to very much. Zoie for example was out in an instant and downing approaching Walkers, clearing the area so that there was one less problem after another. And there were others, others he had not yet acquainted that were doing the same. And here he was, as useful as a blind, flightless duck out in the open during hunting season.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Okay, writing a post at this minute. No procrastinating.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Posting later today <3

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Interacting With: Black James, Richard, Jaime, the two Strangers.
● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon

It wouldn't be the first time Dexter cracked a joke at the wrong time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Although, in his defense, he felt like he was about to have an emotional breakdown over needing that cigarette. " Are you serious? Did you not just see what happened? Unless you wanna walk, you gonna shut up about CIGARETTE and sit the fuck down! " At the corners of his lips was originally the ghost of a smile, but as he met eyes with James it began to quickly deteriorate. Dexter sunk bank into his seat, shoulders slumping as he felt like a scolded child. He glanced sidelong towards Richard, looking for some sort of relief from the awkward position he had put himself in, and in some ways he found it.

Dexter peeled his eyes away from Richard, looking back over James' shoulder in silence. His expression was blank now as he thought to himself. He wanted to apologize, but it wouldn't mean anything – not now. Dexter was just a random person James had only recently met, that was fully disposable and possibly dangerous to him and his friends in Newnan – although he wasn't, you could never really trust a stranger nowadays. He decided it'd be better to properly apologize for what happened, for Alicia's death, at a time when Dexter wasn't a stranger. When his word meant something.

And so he kept his lips together, chewing at the corners uncomfortably as they began to pull around the driveway and head for the street. Dexter held himself close and kept his eyes off the windows as the vehicle rattled and thundered against the cold bodies on the outside. The sound of it was definitely memorable, Dexter reflected as James cleared the horde and broke out into the street at a modest speed.

The radio cackled briefly but Dexter couldn't make out what was being said. James turned and spoke to them, something about some place being hit? Dexter looked between the two, agreeing with Richard reluctantly. ” You think we wanna get left the fuck out here while you guys appear to having working radios and shit? Hell no. Keep drivin’, chocolate thunder. We’re coming with you. ”

There was a call, an actual call from an actual phone, with an actual person talking on the other end. Dexter was curious but he tried not to show it, opting to turn head and stare out a window aimlessly as he listened. The conversation was short, morbid. The woman who died meant something to someone, whoever it was on the other end. James conveyed that pretty well. Dexter didn't have much time to think over what was being said when it ended, and the Buster began to slow down and careen towards the side of the road.

Another survivor? In a single day? Dexter's luck, or rather that of his group's, was either outrageously fortunate or... The opposite. They were still open to being shot, or stabbed, or worse by any one of these new people. Yes, worse. They could be the fucking scum of the earth and like comic books. Those people were horrible. Books with pictures are for children. Or so Dexter believed.

He tried to pretend that he didn't give a shit about the new people, and instead watched Richard as the guy stuck his head out one of the windows of the cab. ” Run outta gas or somethin’? This fella here just saved our asses from a herd of Deadbrains. He’s a stand-up guy who’s got shit to do and hates to leave anyone behind if he thinks he can help. You all alone out here? ” Strange. For such a hateful guy, he sure was throwing a lot of admiration and credit towards James. Black James, specifically. Dexter couldn't blame him though, in this world it was a good idea to talk others up. Dexter made sure to do so whenever Richard was especially being a dick.

Then Dexter's train of thought was interrupted as Richard shouldered into him. " Hey-.. " He stopped his initially annoyed response, his eyes lifting up at a strangers face. Up until that point he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed, the scuffle with "Froggy" and "Dick" a mere couple feet away from where he sat – and now some... Lady. A Lady. Not to be confused with Lady A. Was looming over Richard with some sort of weapon, or wasn't, Dexter couldn't really get a good look.

" Pardon me boys, this just take a second, " Dexter nodded slowly, his eyes glued – slightly glaring, but not quite – to the stranger. He didn't like her, Dexter established. He further justified these thoughts as she spoke more and more. He hated her voice. And her accent.

Dexter never really picked up a heavy "southern" accent himself, which he attributes to his parents and other family.. But there are certain words and phrases he can't help but let sail with a Tennessee-like twang, and it annoyed the shit out of him when he caught himself doing it. Black James on the other hand... Well he was a guy? And his voice was fitting. And... Well, maybe Dexter was a little sexist and had double standards.

He drew his eyes to one of the windows as two thuds from the back came and the Buster began to roll out, much like a ragtag Autobot. Roll out. Roll. Roll up. Dexter had to resist the urge for asking about that cigarette again, biting down on his tongue to distract himself. He was very out-of-it, tired almost, but he didn't let it show too much.

Instead Dexter forced a slight scowl of sorts, trying to make an expression of determination – and he thumbed the inside of his shirt at his waist, running his hand over the grip of his empty pistol as if he was ready to take on any danger that the group would soon run into. In reality it probably looked like he was constipated or something.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon

Dexter's boots struck the uneven ground one after the other, his lungs pounding steadily between every other stride. Dexter did his best to pace himself, expression wrought with determination, and he counted beneath each breath. He was close to heel behind the others as they made their way to the unusual vehicle a short distance from where they were now.

He positioned himself behind the others intentionally as they ran, gambling that if the strangers shot at them – either Jaime or Richard would go down first from the gunfire. There wasn't any nobility in dying here, not now, Dexter thought apathetically. He nearly had the opportunity to weigh his subconscious decision when the sharp crack of a rifle resonated through the open air. Dexter flinched, ducking slightly seemingly long after the shot had already gone off.

Dexter's mind began to sink back into reality as he straightened up and looked towards the truck ahead. There was some shouting from one of the guys in front of him, but in Dexter's ears the words were muffled and unrecognizable. Oh fuck. Dexter's eyes flicked from walkers some distance away and back to the truck where he could make out a figure ahead – which was torn back into a fray of unforgiving monsters. Dexter didn't get a good look, he just saw a person. A living person, trying to protect them. One moment they were there, and then they were gone.

Richard was ahead of them now, closing the distance between himself and their way out. Dexter didn't try to match the man's speed, instead keeping his pace and his eyes open for any looming walkers that could reach his path. Drops of rain bit into his face bitterly as he crossed the slick gravel, and his shoulders were heavy from his soaked clothing and backpack. Still, he pressed on unencumbered as his boots carried him further and further with each step.

" You've got this, amigo! Vomonos! " Jaime was at the truck now, calling out towards Dexter briefly. He looked over his shoulder instinctively, expecting the earth to be falling into oblivion beneath his heels. Fortunately, it was not.

Dexter reached Buster finally, gripping the frame aft of one of the doors. He raised a foot hastily and lifted himself on the step, swinging into the cab of the truck. He landed into one of the open seats uncomfortably, his pack pressed between the seat and his back. Dexter's eyes were wide and alarmed, darting all over the place as he was still jacked with adrenaline.

Finally, his eyes rested on the unfamiliar figure in the driver's seat – Dexter leaned forward, putting a hand on the shoulder of the seat with the utmost urgency, " For the love of God, do you have a cigarette? "

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

I'm here, going to read up and work on a post when I'm caught up.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon

Dexter kept his distance after he made it up the stairs, hesitating as he turned to face the way he came up. The picture frames came down one after the other, building up across the length of the steps as Jaime went up. That was probably the most impressive idea he's seen in a while, Dexter thought to himself, which in reality was a little saddening that something so relatively mundane was so impressive.

As the wiring went up between the handrails, Dexter simply stood to one side trying to calm himself down and get back in control. He threw his hands up abruptly, running his hands back through his hair nervously as the first of the walkers reached the base of the steps and began to clamber over the picture frames. Dexter glanced over his shoulder and into one of the bedrooms distractedly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He was definitely feeling 'out of it' at the time. He didn't want to have to fight the walkers, but even worse he didn't want to have to climb out onto the roof – let alone down three stories. And so Dexter merely stood there frozen until it was time to move, following the others into one of the rooms like a sheep being herded. It didn't take long to barricade up the door, there was plenty of furniture to move.

Dexter moved the last piece of furniture he could bother with, a nightstand, against the shambled together barricade before turning. Fuck, he really didn't want to go out that window. Couldn't they wait it out in here, maybe the barricade would hold up? No, they had to go and he knew it.

Richard took no time to harass Dexter on what was going through his mind, they both were well aware he wasn't a fan of what they had to do. ” I swear to the Lord Almighty, if you leave me alone with only fucking Cheech as company, I will hunt your Deadbrain body down and use you to kill him. Now move your fucking ass down the front of this fucking building. " As he stumbled a step or two in Richard's grip, Dexter glared knives at the man. But he withheld saying anything, and stuck to his silent demeanor. In a way, what Richard said was comforting, to some extent.

" Come on amigo! A little height never killed anyone, but walkers sure have! Andale! " Jaime was already heading down without a hiccup, and then Richard after him. Dexter made his way to the window relcutantly, looking down after them as the rain started to kick up a little.

He remembered being in high school. Raider team was the highlight of his young life then, and recalling his time in JROTC brought him comfort. Dexter was at every competition there was for each season, his favorite consistently being the competitions at Catoosa, as well as at the Riverside Military Academy. They were some of the farthest to travel, but teams from across the state showed up to compete there. The challenges were the most extensive at Catoosa and Riverside.

But this was different. He was to descend the side of a house with no sure grip. At the Raider competition, the courses had walls about ten feet high to climb over, which was nothing to bat an eye at when you had your team to help you. There was the Tower of Heaven at Catoosa, which was quite tall but even then it had rungs to hold on to. There were harnesses for rope bridges to keep you from dropping into creeks. And most importantly there was always a team holding your hand through it all.

Dexter cleared his throat, realizing his knuckles were white against the sill of the window. Richard was on the ground now, wincing off the affects of a short fall. There was a terrifying looking vehicle in the distance, right off the driveway on the road. The others seemed to be heading towards it, but Dexter wasn't as enthusiastic. He bet as soon as he got to the safety of the ground, his head would be blown off by whatever psychos were in that metal can on wheels. Walkers or potentially murderous strangers? He didn't like either option.

He slid his backpack off of his shoulder and held it out of the window, dropping it. He didn't want it getting in the way while he climbed down, and watched it crumple over as it hit the grass below. He expected to follow his backpack out the window and begin his descent, but instead found himself still standing at the window.

Fuck, move your ass douchebag. He told himself, gripping the edge of the window. Dexter pulled himself up, putting one leg out first and then the other. He lowered himself carefully, hugging the wall for dear life. Dexter's foot found its way into the ivy, but it was loose from the others having already put a lot of weight on it. He chewed the fuck out of his lower lip with anxiety as he remained sprawled out beneath the window, trying to ensure he had somewhere to put his weight. The siding was slick from the rain and as he lowered one palm against it he took note of the fact he was probably going to die.

Dexter looked like a retarded starfish coming down. Each movement came dramatically slowly, one limb at a time that tested its grip before shifting into it and lowering the next limb. When he finally approached the ground he looked over his shoulder and assessed the distance – close to two meters or so above the ground. Dexter let go and leaned back, his knees buckling as he came into contact with the grass, falling onto his ass. He exhaled as he rolled around onto his hands and knees and pushed himself to his feet. After grabbing his backpack and subconsciously dusting himself off, Dexter broke into a jog to catch up with his companions . . .

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Dexter Sterling

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● Location: Hoganville, Troup County
● Time: Morning-Afternoon

Dexter's breaths came in shallow rasps as he bolted up the stairs, his backpack swinging to and fro across his shoulders as it hung over only one arm. It made that familiar – oh how do you describe it – like a successive whoosh of fabric and buckles rocking with the sound of books and binders shifting around inside, the sound you were accustomed to when you were about to be late for class. That's what Dexter was reminded of.

" Jump the last stair! " The voice was familiar, Jaime's. He had almost completely forgotten about the others even existing during his ensuing fear of being grabbed and mauled. Dexter wasn't sure what he meant, but as he came around the last part of the bend to the landing his foot nearly collided with the uppermost step. He tried to stop himself from tripping up, and barreled over the rug he almost caught himself up on.

Having just barely cleared Jaime's obstacle, he stumbled over the landing onto the second floor. Dexter took a brief moment to steady himself, once again straightening the backpack that listed lazily down his arm. He glanced around hurriedly to find his companions. It was when he stopped he realized how much he was shaking, looking down over his hands which refused to steady themselves. Was he bit? He didn't think so, but one couldn't help but worry. Oh God, he didn't want to die in this prissy southern doll house.

Dexter peeled his eyes up and away from his hands, seeing Jaime. He goes to say something, but decides against it. Seeing one of his companions gives him some sense of relief from the situation, calming him enough to regain his awareness. He wanted to ask where Richard was and if he was alright, but he didn't think there was time to – he would just have to assume Richard wasn't trying on outfits and taking his sweet time in one of the rooms on the second floor, and instead was somewhere secure.

They had to move, it wouldn't take any longer for the walkers to get up to them. He broke for the other stairway down the hall without another thought. As he approached he began to take longer strides, opting to go two at a time again, focusing entirely on not tripping as he hurried up the steps . . .