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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[ xlii. a win today ]
june 23rd, 2011
➸➸➸
ASTRID LANCASTER LEANED WEARILY against the cold cell wall, her eyes fixed upon Hershel's chest as it labored. The fragile thread that kept him connected to this life was both her salvation and her torment. He was alive, his chest rising, falling, and then repeating the agonizing cycle. Yet, in the last hour, they had been dealt another merciless blow—they were now entirely devoid of necessities to save him. Once pristine towels were now grotesque tapestries of blood, hanging in a grim corner of the room. Bed sheets, already thoroughly soaked, clung desperately to his injured leg as a means to clog the endless bleeding.
Time had become elusive. The world outside their desperate enclave had faded away. Where were Daryl and the others right now? Astrid's heart ached for their presence, yet her faith remained steadfast. She would not worry about them. They were survivors, and they knew how to handle outside threats. They could weather this storm without her.
A creaking door shattered the silence, and Astrid's senses snapped to attention. Her gaze darted towards the entrance, anticipation coiled within her chest like a spring wound too tight. She yearned for Daryl's rugged form to appear, his steady stride. But it was not his silhouette that greeted her; it was young Carl, bearing a burden far weightier than the duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
Glenn's confusion mirrored Astrid's own. "I thought you were organizing the food?" He questioned.
Carl's lips curled into a triumphant smirk, yet his eyes glinted with a maturity beyond his years. "Even better. Check it out," He said as he discarded the duffle bag at their feet. As the zipper whispered open, it revealed a trove of medical supplies—gauze bandages, vials of antibiotics, and bottles of painkillers nestled within.
Astrid's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch the lifesaving bounty. The bandages felt like strands of hope beneath her fingertips. She tore her gaze from the supplies, turning to Carl with incredulous awe. "Where did you find this?" She asked, amazed.
Carl's chest seemed to swell with pride. "Found the infirmary," He announced. "There wasn't much left, but I cleared it out."
"Good work, kid," Astrid said. Beside her, Carol's eyes were shining with gratitude as she, too, moved forward to begin the delicate process of rebandaging Hershel's damaged leg.
However, the elation was quickly broken by Lori's festering anger that hung heavy in the air. At Astrid's praise, her glare fixed briefly upon the Lancaster woman with a blaze. Then she looked to her son. "You went alone?" She exclaimed. Carl's firm nod only seemed to stoke Lori's inner fire. "Are you crazy?" She continued, her voice crackling with maternal worry—and rage.
"It was no big deal," Carl retorted, his initial resolve now a fit of spiteful anger that matched his mother's intensity. "I killed two walkers."
Lori had grown so furious that her words fought to escape. "Carl, do you see this?" She demanded, her arm sweeping towards Hershel's prone figure. "This was with the whole group!"
