OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
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[ xiii. sanctuary for all ]
june 25th, 2012
➸➸➸
"WE NEED TO STOP."
Michonne's command sliced through the air like a thunderclap, and Astrid, her body wracked with pain, could not have been more thankful. Gasping for air, she doubled over, her hands clutching her bleeding side as they finally came to a halt.
For the past hour, their group of four had been trekking, nearly sprinting, from the terrifying encounter back at the house. All Astrid had wanted was to put as much distance as humanly possible between herself and those men that they had narrowly avoided. But amidst the thudding of her heart, an unsettling fear pitted at her insides. What if their escape had been noticed? What if they were coming after them?
Struggling to banish the disquieting thoughts, Astrid redirected her focus to her new surroundings. The afternoon was painted in shades of gray as they hurried along a set of weathered train tracks, forgoing the main roads. Her gaze flickered from one wooden plank to another, a desperate attempt to distract herself from the searing discomfort radiating from her side. Rick walked beside her, his presence offering a sliver of comfort, while Carl and Michonne flanked her on the other side, their own faces etched with worry.
"I'm fine, Michonne," Astrid insisted, teeth clenched in an attempt to hide her agony. She tried to take another step forward, but the pain jolted through her, betraying her bravado. Michonne seized the moment, her eyes narrowing with concern.
"We need to stop. Catch our breath and gather our thoughts," Michonne protested again. "It's going to be a long day. We don't have shelter. We're hurt. We can't be exposed like this. We need to make a plan, right now, of where we go from here."
"Michonne's right, Dad," Carl chimed in, adjusting the weight of the heavy duffle bag over his shoulders. The new supplies—water bottles, candy bars, and the remnants salvaged from their previous refuge—were far from sufficient. Between the four of them—and hopefully, others regathered along the way—their group would need more food soon.
Finally relenting, Rick came to a halt, bowing to Michonne's insistence. Astrid lowered herself onto the tracks, gasping for breath. Hiking her shirt up high on her torso, she stared at her mangled side. She could barely stand to look at her reddened gunshot wound for more than a few seconds at a time without feeling lightheaded. Michonne knelt beside her, a roll of freshly collected gauze in one hand and a water bottle in the other. Astrid grimaced as the woman began cleaning the wound, the pain flaring anew with each touch.
As Michonne deftly wrapped the gauze around Astrid's spasming waist, she cleared her throat, her dark eyes locking onto Astrid's, seeking answers. "What happened while we were gone?" She questioned.
