The Lost Dixon // The Walking Dead

Ch. 45

The Lost Dixon

Ch. 45- The Dixon's Are Strong

Reece's Point of View:

I felt the wind brushing against my skin, sending a cold chill through my body. I turn my eyes, looking up at the now setting sun through the leaves of the trees. I can hear the sound of my heart beating, a little weak, but strong enough to keep my being alive.

I inhaled deeply, almost wincing at the pain I felt through my body. I turn my head, looking around me. I didn't hear anything or see anyone. I felt that Peter and Adam finished their job, tossed my body in a deep ditch and left me out here.

I let out grunts and whimpers as I pull myself up, looking down at my body. Scratches and small cuts covered my body, maybe from rolling down this ditch they threw me in. I lifted up my shirt, seeing the bullet wound still covered, but a huge bite mark from Peter. I can't believe he did that. Though, I can't be surprised any human would bite someone. Rick did the same thing to Joe when they attacked us.

I look around and my knife and gun still with me. But my bow and quiver is gone. Why would they take my bow and arrows, but leave behind my gun and knife? What was the point in that?

The sounds of moans and snarls fill my ears. I turn my head back, seeing three walkers coming my way. A small rush of adrenaline hit me and I pull myself up, grabbing my knife and gun. I fire my gun three times. Three times for each walker. I paused for a moment, looking down at my gun. One bullet remained. It's best to save it for the asshole that held me down. Peter gets the knife. It's more personal and I wanna make sure he suffers from the pain he put me through.

I pushed my way through the forest, tripping over sticks, holes, logs. My goal is to make it home. Anger has completely taken over me. I wanna find Peter and Adam and kill them. I wanna do more than just that. I wanna make them suffer. Suffer for as long as I want until they're either dead or they beg me to kill them. They don't get any sort of forgiveness. They don't get to live their lives knowing they got away with killing me. They don't get no sense or remorse. They get nothing.

The sun falls and the moon takes over. I wanted to keep myself going, but I knew it's best to take a break and restore my energy. I created a small tent out of branches and thick leaves. I dug a hole in the ground, throwing dry leaves and sticks. I created a fire, keeping myself warm. I managed to find cans and wire. I made a small perimeter alarm-system. If any walkers or even people entered my area, I'd be alerted and I'd be able to fight them off.

The crickets chirped and lightening bugs beamed their glow lights. I let out a sigh, feeling my pulse slowing down. Part of me was worried I'd die out here. But I convinced myself it was my body only relaxing as I found myself dozing off and on.

I felt a small tickle on the side of my thumb. I lift my hand up, seeing a little ladybug crawling towards the tip of my thumb. A spark of hope, faith, determination flicks through my body. I knew, then and there, that no matter what, I had to get home. I have to.

I gathered my knife and gun, my backpack and kicked the fire out. My stomach let out a growl and my mouth is dry. I let out a sigh, hoping that on my way home, I'll be able to find a pond or even a creak. I open up my backpack, pulling out the walkie.

"Rick? Daryl, you there?" I call. Static fills the walkie. I waited a few moments for either of them to respond.

"Rick? Daryl, Glenn, anybody? Does anybody copy, please?" I beg. Nothing. I huff out a breath, placing the walkie back inside my bag. I pull myself up on my feet and began walking. I guess the only good thing so far, the bullet hole clogged up and completely stopped the bleeding.