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Ch. 24 - Septenary

I managed to weave through the walkers and find my way back inside the cabin. I need to come up with a plan, and fast, if I want to make it back to The Sanctuary anytime soon. It's at least a day's walk, a minimum of thirty miles. I rummage through the cabinets and take as many cans of food as I can find. I stuff them inside the duffle bag along with a few bottles of water. When I turn toward the front door, I notice Negan's leather jacket thrown over the back of a dirty couch. Thankfully he was able to get away, but I know he's going to come back for me unless I make it back before he can try. I set the duffle bag down, pull Negan's jacket around my body, and place the bag strap across my shoulders. Think, think, think. How can I get out of this? I'm surrounded by a sea of the dead with just a knife, drowning with no coast in sight. I shuffle into the bedroom and blow out the lantern, causing darkness to swarm around me. The darkness makes it seem as if I'm not even here. The only hint of light comes from the moon that hangs in the sky and seeps through the bedroom window.

What would Rick do? What would Negan do? Come to think of it, I've never seen Negan in a situation quite like this. He has always been protected, even when he wasn't behind the gates of The Sanctuary. Sure, he's been in a pinch before. He's fought more than one biter at once. Rick has been through this, and so have I. How did we get through it in Alexandria?

We gutted up.

I rush back to the front door and peer out the small window at the top, looking out to spot the walker of my choosing. One strays away from the crowd toward the cabin. Perfect timing. I creak the door open slowly and approach the walker, then lunge forward and bury the knife deep in its skull. I yank the blade away and catch the body before it can thud against the wooden deck beneath my feet. The body is light as I drag it inside, an indication of its decaying state. Once the door is shut, I slice the walker open, then slip the knife into my waistband. The guts are cold to the touch and the foul stench fills my nostrils undesirably. Nonetheless, I fight through the turning and churning of my stomach and lather myself with innards.

I pull the door open, then grab the walker by its feet, and drag it back onto the porch. I drop its legs, reach to close the door, then make my way into the undead crowd.

I will get out of this.

-

The sun continued to rise and fall as the days passed. I've watched the sunrise seven times since I have seen Negan. When I first deserted the cabin, I started in the direction of The Sanctuary. But I've been sidetracked by groups of walkers that I simply can't fight off on my own. There are two cans of food left along with five water bottles. I have yet to find a building unlooted, everything has been picked bare. Which can mean one of two things: There are no supplies within miles, or there's a civilization close. 

The optimist in me would choose to believe the latter, but I'm afraid she left in the truck with Negan. I don't have the best sense of direction, especially now that I've been swept around by smaller herds. Survival is my main priority, which means I need to find food and shelter, and I need to find them both fast. Otherwise, I'll walk along the biters in search of flesh, myself. Thankfully Negan's leather jacket has kept me warm through the cool nights, but it smells like shit after being coated in guts, not to mention I haven't bathed in seven days. God knows I smell like shit, too.

Survival is my only option. I can't lose Negan, I can't lose my friends in The Sanctuary, and I sure as hell can't lose my people in Alexandria. 

The rustling leaves in the wind have become the backtrack to my days on a never-ending loop. Sleep was hardly an option, I'd managed to sneak a few hours here and there so long as I could find a tree branch to host me away from the dead. When I'm not on guard for walkers, I'm on guard for people. Nice groups were few and far between and I don't want to press my luck.