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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[ xxvii. fight or flight ]
november 4th, 2010
➸➸➸
ASTRID LANCASTER'S EYES REMAINED stuck on the lifeless forms of Tony and Dave, their bodies strewn across the cold ground, lying at her boots. The sight of the pooling blood, as it seeped into the wooden floorboards, sent her stomach twisting in nauseating circles.
One of these men was dead because of her.
Rick, the killer of the other, dared to step into her line of view. One of his hands grazed her shoulder as his eyes locked with hers. "You alright?" He asked softly.
Astrid's response lingered, suspended in the air, as she wrestled with the turmoil within her. Finally, she managed a nod, her body quivering slightly as she replaced her gun in her waistband. "Ask me later," She managed to utter. "Let's just get the hell out of here."
Rick, Hershel, and Glenn nodded their agreement. Moving towards the doors felt like entering a battle zone. Casting her eyes out the window, the inky blackness of the night hung heavy, a veil obscuring the dangers that lurked just beyond Astrid's view. What were the odds that Dave and Tony had been alone?
Suddenly, just as Rick moved to open the door, the blinding blaze of headlights illuminated the road outside the bar. The suddenness of the intrusion forced Astrid into a crouch, her body instinctively seeking cover beneath the window frame.
Gun back in hand, Astrid tensed as multiple voices floated through the wall. "Dave? Tony?" Someone called.
"I heard shots," Another man confessed. "And I saw roamers two streets over."
"Okay," A new, sharper voice decided. "We stick close and search the area. We'll find them."
As the voices receded, the silence wrapped itself around Astrid's chest, constricting her breath in its icy grip. Peering out the window once more, she scanned for signs of the survivors, the unsettling absence of movement sending shivers down her spine.
Beside Astrid, Glenn's deep breath cut through the quiet, his words barely a whisper. "Why won't they leave?" He demanded.
"We can't stay here," She asserted.
"Astrid's right," Rick agreed. "Let's head out the back and make a run for the car." Their collective decision was a swift pivot towards action, but just as their group of four prepared to propel themselves into motion, the air shattered with gunfire.
Gunshots, like malevolent fireworks, punctuated the night with bursts of deadly intent. But the bullets did not seem to be aimed at the bar. Suddenly, footsteps, much closer than comfort, echoed right outside the front door. Like a panther, Glenn's swift movement was a blur of instinct, his crouched form sliding into position before the entryway, slamming the door shut as quickly as the armed strangers tried to open it.
