New World (D.Dixon) ~rewritten~

•chapter 4• <rewrite>

"The dead vs the living"
< Rewritten Version >
Word Count — 6941
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Running from the city, all the way back to the quarry, felt like a grueling marathon to Alessia. Every step was heavier than the last, her legs screaming with fatigue as the exhaustion started to take its toll. But she pushed forward, because there was no other choice.

Her mind was consumed with thoughts of her family—particularly her baby sister, Sophia, and her mother. They'd been the only people who mattered to her since the world had gone to hell. Not even her piece of shit father was a concern anymore, not when the lives of the two people she loved most hung in the balance.

As the group of five pushed forward, the sounds of chaos grew louder—the unmistakable screams and gunshots carried across the air. A pit of dread formed in her stomach.

"Oh, fuck!" Rick yelled, and without hesitation, they all sprinted harder toward the camp, every breath ragged and desperate.

"Sophia! Mom!" Alessia's voice cracked as she screamed, her heart pounding in her chest. Fear was a wild, gnawing beast now, gnashing its teeth at her mind, but she kept pushing. The thought of her family, of her baby sister, made her forget the sharp ache in her muscles, the blood pounding in her ears.

As they neared the camp, the sounds of violence became clearer. The crack of gunfire echoed through the trees, sending waves of panic through Alessia. She had to get there. She had to find them.

But then, a sharp, cold grip seized her shoulder.

Her heart skipped a beat as she spun around, panic flooding her body. The instant her eyes locked on the creature, a horrifying realization hit her—this wasn't someone from the group.

A walker—a male, once human—snapped its jaw at her, the decaying flesh of its face stretching as it tried to tear into her. She barely had time to react before the thing lunged at her, taking her to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Shit!" Alessia gasped, her body slamming against the dirt as the walker's weight crushed her. Her arms flailed, trying to push the rotting creature off, but its strength, fueled by the endless hunger of the undead, was terrifying.

She looked around frantically. More walkers were limping toward her—dozens of them. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. This was it. She was completely fucked.

But then, a sound cut through the chaos—an arrow sliced the air, landing with a sickening *thunk* in the walker's skull.

The creature on top of her crumpled instantly, its body falling limp as the arrow lodged deep in its head.

Alessia didn't even have time to process what happened. A strong hand grabbed her forearm, yanking her to her feet with incredible force. She stumbled but was steadied by the arm. Her eyes shot upward, and she immediately recognized the figure standing before her.

It was Daryl Dixon.

No words were needed. She knew he was the one who had just saved her life. His bow was still raised, ready to send another bolt into the next walker if needed, but his eyes were locked on her with that familiar, unwavering intensity.

Alessia's chest heaved, her heart still racing from the terror, but in that moment, all she could do was nod at him in silent thanks.

Without a word, Daryl started pulling her toward the camp, his hand still gripping her arm firmly. She didn't protest. The urgency to find her family overpowered everything else.

As they pushed forward, the sounds of gunfire and screams grew louder. Alessia's mind was a whirlwind of fear and hope, but she couldn't afford to stop now. The camp was so close, and her family—Sophia, her mom—were waiting.