SURVIVE.
❝ Let the end of the world be
inside you, then you don't
need to fear the end
of the world out there. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK ONE of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 1 - 3 ]
******
I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its...
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[ xxi. cherokee rose ]
october 31st, 2010
➸➸➸
ASTRID BLAMED HER EXHAUSTION on the instability of her haywire mind as it spiraled over the last twelve hours because when morning finally came on the highway, neither Astrid nor Daryl had changed at all in how they acted toward each other, how they spoke to each other—and how they looked at each other. The prior night's search—and its conclusion—was seemingly forgotten. Or ignored.
But Astrid refused to think of it a moment longer. She had other concerns to worry about, which included making sure she did not fall off the back of Daryl's motorcycle as he tore his way quickly down the dirt road, leading to what the mailbox sign back at the welcome gate half a mile up the highway labeled: the Greene Family Farm.
In the distance, rising up quickly, a massive three-story farmhouse loomed, and Astrid gasped in shock at the sight. Acres upon acres of pristine and open fields stood untouched by the horrors that had ravaged the rest of the planet.
As they arrived on the outskirts of the front lawn, Astrid could see members of their group who had arrived the day prior scattered around the massive green yard. Daryl parked the motorcycle in the shade of some trees on the edge of the dirt drive, and Glenn approached them warmly as the RV pulled into place behind them.
Glenn, always a sight for Astrid's worn eyes, offered her a helping hand off the bike, and concern filled her features as she immediately asked, "How's Carl?"
Glenn opened his mouth to reply but was swiftly interrupted by Rick, who had also been quick to greet them. "He survived the surgery, and he's going to be just fine," He informed Astrid and Daryl, approaching their small group with a warm smile. Astrid crossed over into the sheriff's embrace and exhaled a long sigh of relief into his shoulder.
"How did it happen?" She prodded.
"Just a stupid accident," Rick answered, pulling back. "Just some stupid hunting accident."
Astrid soon noticed Shane Walsh behind Rick as more distance was put between them, but he was walking with a heavy limp as he approached. He had also shaved his entire head—a complete 180 of appearance from less than twenty-four hours ago.
"What the hell happened to you?" She called out to him.
Shane let out a wry chuckle at her question. "Otis and I had to go on a run to a nearby town to get the equipment for Carl's surgery," He explained. "I busted up my ankle from a bad fall."
"Doesn't explain the hair," She pointed out. "Or the lack of it, I guess I should say."
"This?" Shane said. One of his own large and cut hands ran along his nearly bald skull, and he chuckled again, though Astrid felt no warmth in it. "Just thought I needed a new look," He attempted to joke.
