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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[ xlviii. he's gone ]
july 2nd, 2011
➸➸➸
AS THE FIRST LIGHT of morning broke over the prison, Astrid Lancaster found herself leaning against a guard tower that loomed at the yard's edge, closest to the gates leading to the outside world. Her chestnut-colored hair danced in the gentle breeze as she listened to the melodic symphony of chirping birds overhead. With a rifle slung across her shoulders and arms crossed firmly over her chest, she stood stoically, her eyes fixed on the horizon, waiting for a rescue team's return.
In the solitude of her watch, Astrid contemplated the apology she had meticulously crafted for Daryl. She had not been able to sleep through the regret gnawed at her. She openly recognized the foolishness of her actions, the hostility she had unwarrantedly directed at her hunter. The flush of embarrassment crept up her cheeks as she recalled the biting rejection that she had inflicted upon him yesterday. As soon as Daryl returned, she vowed to throw herself into his arms, to say her apologies until they no longer fell short.
Elsewhere, within the prison walls, the survivors from the tomb she and Carl had discovered remained. Their names had also finally been revealed: the imposingly tall figure was Tyreese, his younger sister Sasha by his side. A grieving husband and father, Allen, along with his young son, Ben, rounded out the group. Donna, the infected and dead woman, had left a void that seemed impossible to fill. Their desire to stay in the prison came as no surprise, and Astrid found herself willing to accept these strangers, though the final verdict rested with Rick, who had not yet returned.
A sudden sound of clinking keys drew Astrid's thoughts. Her careful eyes shifted to young Carl, who paced endlessly in anxious anticipation of his father's return.
Squinting against the brilliant sun, Astrid took a step closer to the boy. "It's so quiet," She murmured.
"It's always quiet," Carl replied, his pacing unbroken by conversation.
Pushing away from the guard tower's wall, Astrid advanced toward him, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I know. It's easy to forget how loud the world used to be," She reflected. "I used to complain about it all the time—traffic, construction, car alarms—just a lot of damn noise pollution. For the first twenty years of my life, I called New York home, and it was just . . . absolute chaos there. No peace in such a big city. Even after moving to South Carolina, the quiet was still rare." She rested her arm gently on Carl's shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Now, living in this world, I'd give anything just to hear the sweet sound of a jumbo jet."
Carl's lips curled into a faint, knowing grin. "It'd be even sweeter if we were all on it," He mused.
Astrid smiled down at the boy, her attention returning to the road, where Carl's only parent was expected to return. As she contemplated the toll this harsh world had exacted on a young soul like Carl, she could sense the depth of his yearning for his deceased mother. Lori's absence weighed heavily on them all, every day now, but for Carl, it was an agony she could barely imagine.
