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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[ xli. a soul in mourning ]
june 23rd, 2011
➸➸➸
FOR LESS THAN A second, Astrid and her companions dared to hold eyes with the prisoners, a moment brimming with tautness and unspoken violent intent. Then their gazes swung back to Hershel again, forgoing them completely. They had much more pressing matters to deal with.
Rick's hands moved frantically, snatching a towel from the floor and wrapping it tightly around the mutilated remains of Hershel's leg. "He's bleeding out!" He bellowed. "We've got to get back!"
Daryl and T-Dog positioned themselves at the front of the disheveled group, warding off the prisoners, while the remaining members grappled to salvage Hershel's precarious grip on life. Amidst the pandemonium, Astrid's mind whirled, grasping for any shred of knowledge or experience that could serve to help, but the torrent of thoughts clashed, blurring her focus into an overwhelming din.
Abruptly, Glenn pushed a table toward them. "Lift him!" He yelled.
From the midst of the bewildered prisoners, a voice cried out. "Who the hell are you people?" Someone demanded. "You don't look like no rescue team."
"That's 'cause we aren't!" Astrid snapped blindly. Undeterred, she joined Rick and Maggie to hoist Hershel from the ground while Glenn held the rickety table steady.
"Let's go!" Rick ordered. "T-Dog, get the door!"
T-Dog wrenched the doors apart and faced the relentless onslaught of the undead world beyond. In one swift motion, he plunged a blade into a walker's skull and then held the doors wider. The trio of Rick, Glenn, and Maggie shot through the gap and hurtled down the corridor with Hershel in tow. Meanwhile, T-Dog and Astrid hesitated in the empty hall, holding back what might pursue them. Then, after a moment, the woman stepped back into the cafeteria.
There, Daryl still stood, alone, still aiming his crossbow at the prisoners. Astrid quickly approached him and tugged at his arm. "C'mon! We've got to go!" She called. But when her hunter did not respond, her grip tightened. "Now, Daryl!"
His sigh was a reluctant surrender, and he turned away, dropping his weapon. They fell into a hurried stride that led them back through the labyrinthine confines of the tombs, and away from the forgotten prisoners.
Once they caught up with the others—Astrid was immediately thrust into the daunting role of doctor. Over the harsh winter, she had gone from a mere learner to a skilled apprentice molded by Hershel's own medical guidance. Now, her experience pushed her into the very center of life and death, where her trembling hands, driven by a resolve born of necessity, fought to stop Hershel from bleeding out—even as they ran.
Soon, however, their flight was accompanied by the haunting echo of voices. Astrid pivoted on her heels. The prisoners, fueled by a desire all their own, were doggedly chasing their fleeing forms.
