my tears ricochet

Chapter Forty Six

The landscape changed the further they went. They ran, desperate, knocking into trees and through bushes; scrubbing away tears. Ivy's throat stung from the smoke and she didn't know if Beth could still hear the gunshots and she didn't want to ask.

There had been a single moment when they had stopped to rescue a single bag stowed away beneath an old, fallen tree that Ivy had turned to look at the black smoke in the sky, the bit of prison still visible from beyond the trees. She had clung to the strap of the backpack and looked at the damage, up at the reflection of everything Ivy had ever been. "I'm never coming back," she had sworn to the wind and the prison, feeling everything slip away.

Beth had been confused when Ivy pushed her into the woods, searching with confusion for old visual landmarks. The few days with Carl felt like they happened to someone else and Ivy had gotten lost in the process, turning in circles and backtracking when walkers came out of the brush until she saw the behemoth of an old tree knocked over, those roots twisted as they tried clinging to the dirt.

"I hid a few," Ivy grimaced, shoving her arms through the straps and adjusting the weight of it. A spare flash light, a couple cans of soup, a can opener, and three spare pairs of socks wasn't much to start out with. "I don't think I remember where the others are."

One of the bags hid beeswax candles and a lighter. A tarp folded down, a knife sharpener, a box of crackers. Everything Ivy had ever wished for during the winter when they had nothing. "You did this alone?"

"With Carl," she confessed, trying to ignore the swift glimpse of betrayal on Beth's face. "We went out of the tombs a couple times to make drops, just in case."

Beth spun around when a walker came out of the bushes and barred her teeth as she smashed the butt of her gun against it's head. It was an older man, clothes worn to tatters, one foot bare. She tried to keep her cry quiet but Ivy caught it, the sound broken glass and a burning barn, a sword swinging down. The walker went down to his knees, slumping sideways and Beth struck again, wild. "He killed my dad," she bit out. "He hurt him."

No one was owed a good death anymore but Hershel should have had that. He had been kind, a light in the darkness. And the Governor extinguished it in a single cut.

"We have to keep going," Ivy whispered. That walker was silent now but the woods were bristling with others. She didn't know if the shooters would start branching out of the prison and comb the outer edges to look for survivors to put down. They lost because they hadn't killed the Governor that day and he knew that. He wouldn't make that mistake.

If she had taken that shot on the catwalk instead of freezing up, maybe it would be different.

But she had a coward's heart, ice in her veins. Glenn had pulled her down when she failed to squeeze the trigger.

"They're all dead."

"Don't," Ivy snapped, brittle. "Don't start that. You didn't see their bodies. They could be out there right now."

"You don't know that!"

"Your dad is dead. And I'm sorry. But he would want you to keep moving, to find something better. And this sure as hell is not safe."

"Maggie went after Glenn. I never saw her get out of the cellblock and he wasn't in any condition to fight. They're still back there," Beth kicked her foot against the walker. The body rocked to the side and a wedding band glinted from his stiff hand. "She was looking for him."

Ivy looked away from the two missing fingers, the old bite mark on the wrist. "We went into that cellblock and never saw them. She wasn't in there. Do you think Maggie would have been stopped? The bus was gone and they had to leave so now we gotta find them."