It's raining. That's the first thing she notices as she slowly wakes, other than the fierce ache in her body that reminded her of what being in a car crash was supposed to feel like. But that didn't make sense; she'd just been talking with Reg about the meeting Deanna was calling, and there hadn't been a cloud in the sky or a car in sight.
Maggie blinked into the dim light and tried to move, her hands lifting to grope at the straps that were holding her in place. What? She was in some kind of... well, it reminded her of one of those pods that you sometimes saw in sci-fi movies. The ones that only fit a single person. But it was also kind of like a high-tech coffin with how enclosed it was, the thought of which only served to send her adrenaline levels sky-high. No. No. She had to stay calm, and she had to get out of there. She had to find Glenn and the others, figure out how she'd gotten there and what the hell was going on.
Unhooking the straps was easy. Figuring out how to get out of the pod thing, that was a little more difficult. It wasn't night, there was too much light for that, but with all the clouds in the sky and the rain on the glass, it might as well have been. In all her fumbling around to find something to release the glass or a hatch or something, she found the backpack at her feet, and that was when she really started to panic. This hadn't been her people, they wouldn't leave anyone on their own like this and she couldn't seen any other pods out there. No, someone had done this to her, to them, and she didn't know who or why. But they'd left her with supplies and somehow that was more terrifying than if she'd just been dumped somewhere with nothing. Though it was practically nothing - they'd taken her weapons.
Something finally popped loose and she was able to swing the glass open, a torrent of rain rushing into the pod and instantly soaking her to the bone. "Glenn!" The first thing out of her mouth was a shout of her husband's name as she blinked against the rain "Rick! Daryl!" She couldn't see anything other than trees and a fire in the distance and -- walkers.
Two of them, moving toward her, attracted by her shouting more than likely. It was pure instinct to reach for the knife at her hip, except it wasn't there. She should have remembered that. "Shit."
Maggie Greene | The Walking Dead
Maggie blinked into the dim light and tried to move, her hands lifting to grope at the straps that were holding her in place. What? She was in some kind of... well, it reminded her of one of those pods that you sometimes saw in sci-fi movies. The ones that only fit a single person. But it was also kind of like a high-tech coffin with how enclosed it was, the thought of which only served to send her adrenaline levels sky-high. No. No. She had to stay calm, and she had to get out of there. She had to find Glenn and the others, figure out how she'd gotten there and what the hell was going on.
Unhooking the straps was easy. Figuring out how to get out of the pod thing, that was a little more difficult. It wasn't night, there was too much light for that, but with all the clouds in the sky and the rain on the glass, it might as well have been. In all her fumbling around to find something to release the glass or a hatch or something, she found the backpack at her feet, and that was when she really started to panic. This hadn't been her people, they wouldn't leave anyone on their own like this and she couldn't seen any other pods out there. No, someone had done this to her, to them, and she didn't know who or why. But they'd left her with supplies and somehow that was more terrifying than if she'd just been dumped somewhere with nothing. Though it was practically nothing - they'd taken her weapons.
Something finally popped loose and she was able to swing the glass open, a torrent of rain rushing into the pod and instantly soaking her to the bone. "Glenn!" The first thing out of her mouth was a shout of her husband's name as she blinked against the rain "Rick! Daryl!" She couldn't see anything other than trees and a fire in the distance and -- walkers.
Two of them, moving toward her, attracted by her shouting more than likely. It was pure instinct to reach for the knife at her hip, except it wasn't there. She should have remembered that. "Shit."