Chapter Text
On a deserted Georgia highway, Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes drives his police cruiser, and Cami Akecheta drives her motorcycle, past overturned and damaged cars scattered blocking the road, making them stop. They get out and Rick takes a gas can out of the trunk. They walk past the remains of more wrecked and abandoned cars down a hill towards a gas station. Various corpses and garbage are spread across the gas station, where a handmade sign hanging reads "NO GAS".
They search around, when suddenly, Rick hears something and ducks down behind a car. He catches a glimpse of the slippered feet of a little girl on the other side of the car as she picks up a teddy bear on the ground. He stands up and sees a little girl walking away, so he walks closer to her. Rick keeps calling her until she turns around to face him. Her lips and right cheek have been torn away, exposing raw teeth and muscle.
Rick's face falls as she starts walking towards him, growling. She approaches faster as he steps back, Cami draws her gun and shoots her in the head. As her body falls to the floor, Cami lowers her gun.
The Pacific Northwest was known for its rain, but today the air in La Push felt unusually heavy, like the atmosphere was holding its breath. Cami Akecheta leaned against her cruiser in the parking lot of the Forks Police Department, rubbing the bridge of her nose. At twenty-seven, she had spent over a decade balancing the life of a police officer with the secret life of a Quileute shapeshifter. Being the second female to ever phase after Leah Clearwater had come with its own set of pressures, but Cami wore the burden well.
She unpinned her badge, the metal cool against her palm. It had been a long shift dealing with mundane town disputes, and all she wanted was the warmth of a fire and the smell of cedar.
The drive back to La Push was a familiar blur of towering evergreens. As she pulled up to Sam Uley's house, the sound of laughter and the crackle of a bonfire greeted her. The pack was all there-her second family. Sam, her cousin and Alpha, stood by the grill, his massive frame silhouetted against the orange flames.
"Rough day, Officer?" Sam called out, a smirk playing on his lips as he handed a plate of brisket to Paul.
"The usual," Cami replied, shedding her duty jacket. "Forks is quiet. Too quiet sometimes."
She navigated through the crowd of chatting, eating, and drinking shapeshifters until she found her father, Bidziil Akecheta. He was sitting on a driftwood log, a cup of coffee in his hand. Despite the graying hair at his temples, his eyes were sharp and filled with a quiet pride.
"You look tired, sweetheart," Bidziil said, patting the space next to him.
"Just ready for the weekend, Pa," she sighed, sitting down. They talked for hours-about the tribe, the old stories, and the strange feeling of peace that had settled over the peninsula since the Volturi had left years ago. Cami watched the sparks fly into the night sky, blissfully unaware that this would be the last night the world made sense.
The next morning, the peace shattered. Cami was halfway through her morning routine, lacing up her boots for another shift, when her phone vibrated violently against the granite counter. The caller ID read Bella Cullen.
"Cami, thank God," Bella's voice was frantic, lacking the usual composed tone of a vampire. "You need to get to the house. Now. Alice had a vision... Cami, it's bad. It's not like before. It's everyone."
"Bella, slow down. What do you mean 'everyone'?"
"Just get here. Sam and the others are already on their way."
Cami didn't wait. She grabbed her keys and her service weapon, yelling for her father to stay by the radio. She tore down the winding roads on her motorcycle, the engine roaring a protest against the speed.
When she arrived at the Cullen estate, the atmosphere was clinical and cold. The entire pack was shifted or shifting, pacing the perimeter. Inside, the Cullens stood in a tense semi-circle around Alice, who looked small and shattered.
"It's a sickness," Alice whispered, her eyes vacant. "It starts in the cities. People dying, but... they don't stay dead. They get up. They eat. It's a tide of grey. It's coming here."
Carlisle stepped forward, his expression grimmer than Cami had ever seen in all her years of knowing him. "It has already reached Seattle. The communication lines are failing. We cannot stay here; the peninsula will become a trap once the panicked crowds flee the cities."
"Where do we go?" Sam asked, his voice deep and authoritative.
"Washington, D.C.," Carlisle said. "If there is a cure or a safe zone, it will be at the heart of the government. We have the speed and the resources to get there before the roads are completely choked."
Cami raced back home to pack. Her father was in the living room, his eyes glued to the television. The news was a horror show-shaky camera footage of people in business suits tearing at each other in the streets of Atlanta, New York, and Seattle. The anchors were screaming.
"Pa, we have to go," Cami said, throwing a duffel bag onto the table. "Pack the essentials. Water, ammunition, the old tribal maps. Now!"
As Bidziil loaded his truck with heavy crates, Cami checked her motorcycle. The air felt different now-sour, like rotting meat. The forest was eerily silent; even the birds had stopped singing.
They agreed to meet the Cullens and the rest of the pack at Charlie Swan's house. Charlie had refused to leave his post earlier that morning, and Bella was frantic to get him.
When Cami roared up to the Swan residence on her bike, the front door was hanging off its hinges. The silence was deafening. Bella was already a blur of movement, disappearing into the house with Edward at her heels.
Cami jumped off her bike, drawing her Glock 17. She stepped onto the porch just as Bella's scream pierced the air.
"Dad? Dad, look at me!"
Cami ran into the living room. Bella was standing a few feet away from a figure near the kitchen. It was Charlie. He was standing with his back to them, his uniform stained with dark, dried blood.
"Chief Swan?" Cami called out, her voice trembling slightly.
The figure turned. It wasn't Charlie anymore. His eyes were filmed over with a milky white haze, his skin a sickly, bruised grey. His jaw hung slack, and a low, guttural growl vibrated in his throat. He didn't recognize his daughter. He only saw prey.
"No..." Bella gasped, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She reached out, her vampire speed momentarily frozen by grief. "Dad, please..."
The creature that was Charlie Swan lunged, snapping its teeth with a sickening sound.
Pop.
The sound of the gunshot was sharp and final. Cami's aim was true-a single round to the center of the forehead. Charlie slumped to the floor, the light-or what was left of it-extinguishing instantly.
Cami lowered her gun, the barrel smoking. The room was silent, save for Bella's choked sobs. Edward pulled his wife into his arms, shielding her from the sight.
"I'm sorry," Cami whispered, her heart aching for her friend. "Bella, I had to. He was already gone."
Bella looked up, her expression a mask of agony, but she nodded slowly. "I know. Thank you, Cami. You... you saved me from having to see him like that for a second longer."
The burial was a somber, hurried affair. The wolves and vampires worked in a strange, grim harmony, digging a grave in the backyard under the shadow of the trees Charlie had loved. Billy Black sat in his wheelchair by the edge of the hole, his face a roadmap of grief. He reached out a hand, touching the soil.
"Goodbye, old friend," Billy whispered. "I'll see you on the other side of the woods."
Carlisle looked at the darkening sky. The sun was setting on the world they knew. "We stay here for the night. We take shifts on the perimeter. Tomorrow morning, at first light, we begin the journey to D.C."
The night was long. The Cullens took the first watch, their golden eyes scanning the treeline for any movement. The pack huddled in the living room and on the porch, the heat from their bodies the only comfort in the growing chill.
Bella stayed outside by the grave. She sat on the damp grass, staring at the fresh mound of earth. Edward sat beside her, his hand resting on the small of her back, a silent pillar of support. They didn't speak; there were no words left for a tragedy this absolute.
Cami sat on her motorcycle, checking her gear one last time. She looked at her father, who was leaning against his truck, cleaning a rifle. They were leaving their home, their land, and their history behind to chase a hope thousands of miles away.
As the first light of dawn broke through the grey clouds, the engines began to turn over. Sam signaled to the pack. Cami kicked her motorcycle into gear, the rumble vibrating through her bones.
She looked back at the Swan house one last time, then flipped her visor down. The Quileute tribe and the Cullen family moved out in a single, reinforced convoy, disappearing into the fog. They were no longer just protectors of a small town; they were survivors in a world that had suddenly gone cold and hungry.
The road to Washington, D.C. lay ahead, and the monsters they knew were nothing compared to the ones they were about to face.