a_littlefaith | (no subject)

At this point, if Beth had the supplies, she would nail the apartment door shut.

They'd had warning and so they had done their best to prepare, but even so, she hadn't had any idea what it would really be like and just how much it would remind her of things she'd much rather never think about again. The final moments at the prison, the chaos and violence, the screaming and sounds of people in pain. How it had felt to be yanked away from everyone, not knowing if she would ever see them again. The fear of that loss, fear of the dead and the living alike.

The hospital.

It's more chaotic than the hospital, but that doesn't matter. It's in the lack of rules she sees the similarities, in the people who are going to spend tonight doing whatever they want without thinking even a little of others. That frightens her deeply, but she does her best not to show it. On a night like tonight, they all need to be at their best. For each other and most importantly, for Judith.

But now Beth is really wishing she'd bought some wood and nails to keep the apartment door shut. They've done their best to barricade it, the heaviest furniture pushed across the threshold, but that doesn't stop people from hammering on the door, screaming obscenities and shouting to be let in.

It's mostly for their sake Beth hopes they don't get through. The people waiting for them might not look like much at first glance, but she and Carl are both armed and have been through too much to let some coward like these people hurt either of them -- or Judith -- ever again.

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Standing in the doorway of Judith's bedroom, Curtis kept his hand on the hilt of the knife he had at his belt, and watched as Carl Grimes paced the front room with a Colt revolver held confidently at his side. At seventeen, the kid was gawky and pale, with slim features and pale skin, and the dark scowl on his face was almost comically youthful. Still, Curtis had seen the kid in action. He knew how fiercely the boy loved his sister.

If that barricade on the door didn't hold, Curtis would've bet his life that Carl was just as formidable a threat as he was to whomever tried to get inside.

Luckily, for the moment, Judith was unaware of the danger. It was impossible that she didn't notice how tense they all were, but they'd put her in front of a cartoon on Carl's tablet, and she wore bright pink, child-sized headphones.

For a moment, there was a lull, and Curtis took in a breath, wondering if they'd moved along to another apartment. Then, the silence was shattered by a loud bang, which seemed to rattle the walls.

Curtis looked to Beth, then to Carl.

There was another bang and a scratch of metal against plaster.

"They're trying to come through the drywall."

It makes her so mad and for a second Beth's fingers tremble with rage against the hilt of her knife, but she drops her hand from it a second later, takes a deep breath to still the tremors and lifts Daryl's crossbow instead. It's still a little too big for her, she should have long ago bought one in her size, but she knows how to shoot it, how to load it, how to hold it properly.

Anyone who comes through the door or the wall is going to regret they ever did.

Not all that long ago she might have asked why they were doing this, but not anymore. She remembers Gorman, the taste of that candy as he forced it into her mouth and even though those memories still exist in a weird half state of having both lived them and not, they're real enough for her to know there is no why. Not for people like this.

"Let us in, you little bitch!" someone shouts from the hall. "We know you're in there. We fucking saw you!"

Beth's brow creases as she looks at Curtis, then Carl. "Do they think I'm alone in here?"

"Let them," Carl said, shifting his weight and aiming his gun at the wall by the door.

"They come through that door, they're going to get a shock."

More than a shock. He wasn't planning on putting anyone down if he didn't have to, but putting a bullet in this creep wasn't going to make him lose any sleep.

"What did they do, follow you from a gig?" He asked, grimacing with disgust. What was wrong with people?

Edited 2017-10-27 02:38 (UTC)

That thought hadn't even occurred to her and she throws Curtis a glance now, one that makes it clear how much that frightens her. Ever since those guys had taken her money and broken her guitar, she's been more careful about leaving the bars where she plays late and alone. Now she has people wait for her or she has Curtis meet her, but she hadn't intended on keeping that up forever.

She thinks of someone seeing her play, though, thinks of them following her home, watching her unlock the apartment door, and it sinks fear deep into her, the sort that doesn't easily let go.

But then there's another tremendous bang at the door and it shakes in the frame and Beth's gaze swings back there, though she takes a step closer to Curtis. "They're coming through," she says.