[ the hills have eyes - ii ]

[ season 1, episode 2 ]
[ guts ]

Ryan often got lost in his thoughts.

His blank stare met the road as the group of seven trekked down towards the city. The air was humid, and the hair that laced the edge of his neck stuck to his skin like maple syrup stuck to pancakes. He felt that it might have been wrong of him to wear a long sleeve and jeans in the unforgiving heat that berated their backs and fronts, but it was the only sure way he knew that kept them protected from the biters. Cover as much skin as possible with as thick of material you could find.

Ryan followed shortly behind the group watching as Glenn mapped out the plan he made up in his head to Morales and T-Dog, Andrea and Jacqui were splitting the collector tasks and Merle alike stood off to the side gun lie in his hands, cradled like a baby, as they all walked in a small unit.

The silent walk was a different kind of peace. It wasn't that Ryan didn't like to talk, or that he didn't like the people in his small camp, they knew all too well that that wasn't the case. He had advocated numerous times that his one goal was keeping people alive.

The quiet helped him think, which was why some of his most influenced decisions were made on walks like this. That's what he used his time for. Or on days like today, when Lori Grimes gave him what felt like a final send off, he thought an awful lot about what people said.

"You'll be fine." She had said, brushing his grown out hair away from his eyes like any mother would. Ryan looked down at her hopeful and tearful eyes. "You'll come right back. And you'll be safe." Her hand cupped the side of his face, spreading warmth and generosity. "We'll be safe."

We'll be safe. We will. We will be safe. Without you. Ryan pushed the overgrown mop on the top of his head back, trying and failing at pushing the intruding thoughts with it.

He poked at his own insecurities and his subconscious only twisted these thoughts, making them into impossible mind games. So he decided to think of anything else. He thought about the time of day, and if today was just another normal day, what he would have been doing.

Maybe he would have been getting himself up and ready for work before starting breakfast for his daughter. Or dropping her off at school before driving to the station, he couldn't know for sure.

Time was a funny figment after the world had ended, and the one thing he knew to rely on for time before was a watch that he no longer had access too.

Rick Grimes watch was always on time. And kept Ryan accountable. The many laugh inducing punishments his mentor had come up with made for great memories, and solemn feelings.

Ryan thought about Rick often. Keeping him in the back of his mind as a reminder for why he was still living. Reasons like those were hard enough to find these days.

So he reminded himself as they made it to barrier just outside the city that what he was doing wasn't for himself, but for those he had promised to watch after. Even if they wouldn't ever know.

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    The group was quiet, perched around the early morning fire, leaving the holes from their traveling friends open in the seats they had filled.

While some of the survivors would resume with their daily chores and activities, ignoring the growing pit of nerves and worry trying to do anything but dwell on the fact their friends could be dead at any moment, Carl Grimes was sat beside Sophia Peletier unbeknownst to the trouble the adults around him were getting into.

"Do you think they're coming back?" Sophia's soft voice broke through the quiet surrounding them as they scribbled on paper. She looked up to her mother who was doing laundry across the way.

Carl continued to draw.

"Why wouldn't they?" He rebutted. She sat in silence as a grim frown grew on her lips. Being as young as they were, Sophia wasn't ignorant to the dangers of the world. Before or after.

"They could get hurt." She breathed out and glanced back down at her paper, picking up the crayon once more. "Or worse."

"I think they'll be okay, Ryan is really tough and one of my dads best friends. And all of my dads friends are super cool like him. They're gonna come back." Carl rambled absent minded as if it was just another day.

It's how he got through most of his days, by pretending. Granted, he hadn't experienced the true terror of the world yet, he still had hope. He pretended that he was camping or hiking. And when camp ran out of stuff, he would pretend that it was because someone "forgot" it. He was just a kid.

Pretending made his dad being gone easier.

"What if Ryan gets hurt and he can't help everyone else?" Sophia rattled off. "What if everyone else is hurt and Ryan's the only one who isn't and he can't save anyone?"

Maybe it was the thought of never seeing someone else that played a role so similarly to his dad that set him off, but Sophia's words angered Carl.

The grip he had on his crayon tightened to the point the wax snapped in half, catching Sophia's attention. Her head turned to the noise.

Carls face scrunched at the idea one of his best friends in the world, someone he thought so highly of for his bravery and strength, would never come back. He fumed.

"Why would you say that? Why would you even think it?" He began to raise his voice. "You're so stupid sometimes." He stated finally, throwing down his broken crayon and stomping off.

Sophia was left in silence.

But it was never truly quiet for too long. The hills have eyes they say.

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The group had found themselves on their last stop, a wilderness shopping center near the ends of the street, right by the outskirts of the city's exit. Following arrow signs until he found the basements boiler room, he decided this would be a good enough time to broadcast channels. It wasn't going to be as easy getting out as it was getting in.

Ryan knew that.

But like clockwork, any chance he got when his batteries were fully charged and he was alone enough to think for himself, he would broadcast over the radio channels.

"Hello?" He turned the dial with his index finger and thumb the furthest channel from the ones the group used.

The broadcasting was more of an outlet for himself rather than a search for hope. A way to say what he was feeling, to talk about his daughter without all the questions. To talk about the weight he was carrying because of the group.

Undoubtedly, there were some things that would never come out of Ryan's mouth. Things that he thought that made him feel guilty for thinking them.

Like how things would be easier if he was alone.

If he didn't have to take care of everyone.

If nobody actually relied on him.

If his daughter was still alive.

"Is there anyone out there?"

Static.

"Can anybody hear me?" He tried again. The loneliness held strong to his bones, and they creaked with the memories that were too difficult to remember. Ryan remained in silence for a long while, building up courage.

"She thinks I don't think about her." His cracking voice bounced off the cement walls around him. "My ex-wife." His lungs deflated.

Being one of few pushed into the spotlight of being a leader, Ryan felt a pressure building. And in subjects that he focused on, others lacked attention.

"She thinks that I.." his eyes dried as a lump grew callously in his throat. "That I don't think of my daughter. That I've forgotten her." His finger lifted from the trigger of his walkie, collecting himself.

"How selfish does she think I am?"

Ryan pressed the back of his head into the bricked wall behind him, his legs straightened out in-front of him as his body released his tensed muscles, his hands falling to either of his sides.

"She's all that I think about..." he whispered.

The room was silent for a while more, as his walkie lie on the floor next to him. His head swimming in thoughts and the silence was all consuming, suffocating.

He pushed his fingers through his hair continuously as his other recollected his walkie, pressing the button once more.

"The camp is running low on necessities." He shook his grief from himself. "I think about how much longer I can keep a large group like what we have alive." He knew that as long as there was no sign of civilization rehabilitation, things would start to run out quickly. It's part of the reason that he wanted to take his family and run the night the bombs started. So that the stockpile they would end up creating would only be shared amongst 3 people. Things change.

Rapid adjustment would soon become an old friend as they scrounged for survival.

Ryan stood from the dirty floor, wiping the dust from his pants as he begun pacing inside the small space.

"They've all suffered so much, I'm not sure how much more we can handle." His eyes darted around the darkened room as he licked his chapped lips. He stopped as the feedback dotted in a series of clicks.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Pause.

Click. Pause.

Click. Long feedback. Click. Pause.

Click.

Ryan kicked a cracked piece of cement as the radio waves silence returned and the clicks continued. His fingers found the radio dial and turned it back before trying to reach his group back at the quarry.

"This is Italy, come in. Is Denmark there?" Countries were a code for peoples names that the kids around camp had made up. After so long, worry started to settle in and trips to towns and cities became more frequent, a system of contact was needed. One day, when the kids had gotten bored quicker than usual, they took a book of countries and chose who's name correlated with which country. Ryan, got Italy and Carl had picked it.

"Is anybody there?" All that he received back was static.

Flipping through once more, he found himself returning to the scavengers channel as Glenn's filtered voice broke through.

"I'm back. Got a guest. Plus four geeks in the alley."

His voice came in broken patches, but Ryan could interpret what was being said. Glenn sounded rushed and his breathing was heavy and quick as his message echoed around Ryan.

The sound of Ryan's heavy footsteps followed him as he trudged through the hallways leading back to the storefront. Arrows lined the walls and floors as a way of direct passage. Glenn had told him the people that were camped here warded off certain areas that made too much noise and thus far, no one had bothered to take a look for themselves.

None of his group was going to be the first either. There was no telling what was behind any doors these days.

The tapping of his boots turned to heavy pattering as his feet made contact with the concrete cement that floored the loading dock zone. The storage room nearby was where the others waited with baited breath for the members of their groups return.

Ryan's head pointed downwards as his calloused hands messed with the receiver on his walkie, ideas stirring about what the interception issue could be.

"Hey, I think the connection from where we are could be spotty." The door to his left slammed shut. "I tried reaching the group but I might have to get a better vantage—"

Ryan's breath almost stopped completely as his head lifted, staring face to face with the man in front of him. In the briefest of moments, the most desperate of glances as Andrea pointed her gun at him, the "guest" Glenn had spoke of was so much more than that.

"Andrea- put the gun down." His body reacted while his mind remained stunned, as he put his hand out to Andrea's shoulder. A small smile rushed across the face of the man dressed in police slacks.

"You're kidding right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole." Her gun forced further, pressing into the skin of his forehead.

"I said put the damn gun down." Ryan's walkie was on the floor as was his bag by his feet as his hands nudged her away while he breathed out the strangers name,

"Rick Grimes."

"Jesus-" the breath that came from his lips was rushed and before they knew it their arms were wrapped around each others bodies, hugging tightly. Ryan's hand gripped the back of Ricks neck, and in that moment Ryan almost wanted to pinch him.

Everything felt fake. Like this was another sick dream his mind had made up of him. His hands squeezed Ricks shoulders tightly as the embrace continued before they pulled back to stare into each others faces.

"You son of a bitch." Rick pushed Ryan back, a gentle laughter breaking through his voice. "Out of all of 'em I should of guessed Ryan Torelli be the one to make it out."

A smile graced Ryan's soft skin, and the group looked to each other in shock. It's a funny thing really, never to have seen someone's smile before. They didn't understand why he never did, but they almost couldn't stop watching as the interaction between the stranger and their formidable leader unfolded.

"I thought you were long dead, man. What the hell happened?" His voiced echoed through the small storage room.

Attention was tore away from the reunion as Jacqui consoled Andreas cries behind them, and their bodies turned to the noise.

"Were dead- all of us. Because of you." Ricks eyes flitted between the distressed woman and his former students.

"I don't understand." The room grew silence as the tenacity of Andreas worry spread like ink on paper through the other members of the group before Ryan grabbed Ricks shoulder, guiding everyone to the front room of the store they had found themself inside of.

"We're here scavenging supplies-" Ryan was cut off by an angry and disheveled Morales as they hustled through the narrow walkway.

"You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving!" He cut before Ryan, shoving the sheriff forward with his fingers. "You know the key to surviving? Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing."

"You did make a lot of noise coming in." Glenn announced.

"It means not shooting up the streets like it's the O.K. Corral." Morales continued.

"Every geek for miles around heard you popping off rounds." T-dog added.

"And they will, come from miles around I mean." Ryan's brow filled with sweat once more as the creeping realization of just 2 sets of glass doors separating them and the dead filled his mind.

"You just rang the dinner bell." Andrea grumbled as her voice shook and what seemed like hundreds of dead grumbled before them, hungry for blood.

"Get the picture now?" Morales concluded as the sound of dead breaking glass etched itself into the history of their lives, this would be a noise none of them would forget for a while.

The impending anxiety of what just one small force could do to break through that door and none of them would see the faces of their family, friends, or lovers ever again.

They would never dream, or love. Never share a memory or a meal with another being. This weight added to the rest as it settled deep into the minds of the entire group.

The understanding of how the reanimated corpses worked had still yet to make sense itself because there were differences in each of them. Some were stupid and slow, some could speed walk, and others like the one before them could pick up objects.

One geek in front of them held a rock as it smashed against the glass, forcing the group backwards with worry. Wondering just when the doors would shatter.

"The hell were you doing out there anyway?" Andreas voice distracted the group momentarily.

All heads turned to Rick as he responded, "Trying to flag the helicopter."

"What?"

"Helicopter? Man, that's crap." T-Dog interrupted. "Ain't no damn helicopter."

"You were chasing a hallucination, imagining things. It happens." Jacqui's soothing, shrill voice reasoned.

"I saw it." He demanded.

"You can understand our surprise, Rick. We've seen nobody but each other the past month at least." Ryan confirmed the deliberation of the rest of the crew. "No rescue teams, no police, military, medical, nothing. We're all that's left."

The room filled with dreaded silence as none of them wanted to face the truth that began to dawn on them at Ryan's words.

"Hey, T-Dog, try that C.B. can you contact the others?" Morales asked, trying to fill up the fear in the room with hope.

"He's gonna have trouble, I was trying in the boiler. The roof might have more vantage of getting in touched with them." Ryan answered as he looked to Morales and T-Dog and they all nodded.

"Others? The refugee center?" Rick hesitated, hopeful.

"Like I said, nobody but us." Ryan countered before adding on. "If there was, they've got biscuits waiting for us if you're willing to dream that big." His eyes shifted back to T-Dog who was continually trying to reach the camp back at the quarry. "No signal?"

"Nada."

"Just as I thought."

"The roof."

Just as the words left his lips, gun shots sounded from what seemed like the top of the building and dread set into Ryan's empty stomach.

"Is that Dixon?"

me writing over a thousand words at 2 am cause i can't sleep and ending up finishing the chapter...

"are you serious right neow?"

anywho, hope you guys enjoyed my yearly post 😍(jk)
i always say im about to start posting consecutively but never do so i won't promise anything but i will promise to try and get better. #mentalillnessluv

THIS CHAPTER I FEEL LIKE WAS SO FUN TO WRITE
at least no one's dead yet🙏🏼🤭🙄

ok well, thank you for reading pls star and leave comments
I LOVE YALL SEE YOU LATER BYEEEEE