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The Machete Girl

The Redneck and the Hoodrat

She had met almost everyone. Rick's longhaired wife with an air of boss lady entitlement, she could tell that Lori though she was the head bitch of the group. His son who was allowed to wonder around all over the place, Brandy thought someone should keep that little boy in the RV before he became a Walker's snack. The blond Andrea, whose sister had just died, poor thing. The old man, Dale with his fishing hat and wanted to be father of the group. The scared deer looking Carol and her little girl Sophia, her abusive husband had died the night before too, good thing. T-Dog and an older black lady named Jacqui. Brandy was not going to lie but she was relieved that there were other black people around. Also there was the Asian boy named Glenn, once again Brandy was happy there was another minority among them. And lastly the poor bastard named Jim, who had gotten bit but Rick had hoped that they could get him to the CDC and get this so called 'cure.'

Brandy had been alone almost the whole time since this shit storm started. With the exception of a few young men who she had bumped in to on her travels. Giving her self a few moments of pleasure before moving on, but she never had a pack, or a group. But these people they wanted her to stay."Why?" She asked her self with annoyance.

Everyone was all packed up and ready to go Brandy walked around and looked for a car that wasn't already full. She let out a sigh and came to a blue and white old Ford pick up truck. Her eyes glancing up at a black motorcycle that was in the truck bed, she raised an eyebrow at the white 'S.S' letters that decorated it.

"Wow… that's fucking retared." She mumbled to her self. She glanced over and saw Daryl walking towards the truck.

Fantastic, it just had to him.

He stopped and looked at her, holding that crossbow in his hand. Out of habit Brandy chewed her bottom lip, it had been something he started doing in high school because the boys thought it was sexy, now she did it out of nervousness.

"Uh, ya got any room?" She said cautiously to him clearing her throat. Glancing back to that bike, those white letters making her even more uncomfortable. He narrowed his eyes and scuffed.

"You just gonna' stand there? Get in." He grunted harshly, not in the least excited about her riding with him. She pulled her machetes from her belt and got in, setting her blades and her backpack on the floor of the truck. He put his crossbow between them.

There was an awkward quietness as they drove on the highway, Brandy was uncomfortable to say the least. She found her self going though her bag and finding a pack of cheap cigarettes at the bottom. She slipped one in her mouth and lit it. She glanced over at Daryl, who was focused on the road-or something else. Ever since the world went to shit, she had became perceptive to the people she bumped in to; it was obvious that something was bothering him. She thought about asking him but decided against it. If it was her, she would be annoyed if someone prodded her.

"You want one?" Brandy asked instead, breaking the silence between the two after a half hour. He glanced over at her, she was holding out a cigarette in between two of her fingers. He just shook his head and looked back towards the open road. Brandy shrugged and placed it back in the pack. "Nice S.S bike." She said sarcastically. Just talk about something, anything; she could not take another mile of nothing. He sucked his teeth and spat out of the window.

"It was my brothers." He said shortly. Brandy just shook her head, that's what it was, he was thinking about his brother. He must had been an asshole for having a Nazi bike, Brandy was lucky that who ever he wasn't there. "What the hell were ya doin' out there by yer' self?" He asked glancing back over at her.

"Nothing, just wonderin'." Brandy said looking out of the window. He scuffed at her words.

"Yeah, that's stupid. Could of got yer self chewed up."

"Well, then it's a good that I'm tougher then I look." She stated running her fingers though her dirty hair. Looking down at her dirty hands and chipped blue nail polish on her nails.

"Talk big, but I don't think yer' able to back it up." Daryl taunted. Brandy let out a low laugh and rolled her eyes. This man- he was a trip.

They had stopped for a while, there was something wrong with the RV. And Jim, was not doing well. Everyone got out to talk about what to do about this dampening turn of events, but Brandy stayed in the truck. It was not her place to voice any type of opinion on anything, she just met them and she would have nothing to about it.

"How's our newest girl?" Shane asked; stepping next to Daryl. Glancing over to the tuck and at Brandy, who now had her boots resting on top of the glove compartment door, fanning her self off with one hand and with the other she was examining crossbow that lay next to her thick thighs. Daryl just shrugged at the question and rolled his eyes. They had fixed the RV and Jim had decided to stay behind and die in peace and with that they were back on the road.

Once again there was nothing but the sound of the old truck. They had been riding for while and there still was no apology from Daryl for shooting her. She expected something, anything. Who shoots some one almost killing them and doesn't even think of saying 'Sorry'? Brandy rolled her eyes at the thought. She went though her book bag again, pulling out an MP3 player that he had found while raiding houses for supplies. She turned it on- shit the battery was almost dead. She might have had maybe another half hour left on it.

Daryl looked over at her, watching Brandy untangle the white headphones and put them on. She searched though the songs and settled on something to listen too. He could hear it, it was rap of course. He'd be damned if that nigger music was going to be played in his truck. Well then again he would have never let a black girl in his tuck, but there she was, siting there comfortably. He thought about saying something to her about how she had her feet up on his dashboard, but really what point would it serve? His truck was already dirty and a mess. Her tight daisy dukes were cutting in to her thick thighs where the end of the fabric met them. Her dirty white halter-top tided in a knot exposing her lightly chubby midriff. Her light brown curly hair catching the sunlight from the window. A woman dressed like that was looking for attention. Did she really think that was proper clothing for the world they lived in? Daryl tightened his lips; did she have to play that shit so loud?

"Hey!" He yelled trying to get her attention, but it was obvious that her music was way too loud to even notice that he was talking to her. "Hey! I'm talking to ya!" he said this time flicking her in the knee. Brandy jumped and yanked out her headphones.

"What?" She said her words filled with attitude.

"Turn that shit down I don't want to hear none of that ni-" Daryl stopped his word, catching him self before he could say the word 'nigger' to the young woman.

"Ya don't want to hear any of my what music? What was it?" Brandy egged on with a raised eyebrow.

None of yer' rap music." He finished fixing his words.

"No, no. You were goin' to say ya did not want to hear none of my nigger music. Word to the wise, if your goin' to be racist then be it, don't back track like a pussy." Brandy said defiantly.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" He snapped back his face growing red with anger. But Brandy did not flinch; she just looked at him with a tiny smile creeping in to the corner of her full lips. He had shot her, so she felt entitled to call him out on his bullshit.

"Ya heard me, Dixon. " She cut back, twisting a lock of her hair on her finger.

"Yes, wisdom comin' from a hood-rat." He said before spitting out of the window. Brandy let out a laugh, not a chuckle a full laugh. Touching her chest and running her thumb over the injury that he had cause from one of his arrows.

"You can learn somethin' from everyone, hell I might learn somethin' from you. Redneck." She said adding on the insult to her sentence almost like a nickname.

"Maybe, Hood-Rat." He said with an almost non-existent tiny smirk to her. Brandy smiled and laughed.

The rest of the way they had found something to talk about-weapons. Daryl taking in detail about different models of crossbows, and Brandy showing him her gun and the silencer.

"Ya gotta be pretty strong to pull back on it to load it." Daryl said to her, as she lifted his crossbow to her eye and looked though the scope. "I don't think you could do it." He taunted, she snapped her head towards him and narrowed her dark eyes.

"Fuck you I bet I could." Brandy said trying to cock the bow, but she failed.

"Oh come on, Brandy but that purse down." He teased. She let out a growl at him and tried again. Fuck! She could not get it. "Pssh. It's okay you do have little girl arms." He said again. Brandy huffed again, but failed. Daryl chuckled at her attempts


Hope you update

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