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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[ xi. zero tolerance ]
october 25th, 2010
➸➸➸
THAT FOLLOWING MORNING DRIFTED by in a traumatic haze.
Astrid found herself sitting in a weary silence, her bloodshot eyes fixed pointedly on the ground. Dale Horvath knelt before her at her feet, hands moving deftly as he tied a wrap tightly around her swollen ankle. Pain rippled up her calf with his every attempt at a tender touch, but she gritted her teeth and held her agony at bay, forcing herself to find the ache bearable. After all, this injury was just a small part of the horrors that she and the others had endured in the last twelve hours. At least Astrid still had her life.
As Dale finished and helped her back into her boot, she glanced around at the carnage surrounding them. Bodies of the dead and undead were scattered through the ruined camp like discarded dolls. The stench of death hung heavy in Astrid's nose.
"I can't believe this happened," She whispered, her voice barely audible as she buried her face in her trembling hands. "Why did this happen?"
"Because they're running out of food in the city," A voice interrupted, speaking before Dale could. Astrid looked up from the wooden stump she sat upon to see Jim, his face smeared with blood, standing nearby with a pickax in hand. He and others had been tirelessly dealing with the aftermath of last night's attack—moving the bodies. And then ultimately choosing to burn or bury said bodies, depending on who they were, and what they meant to the group.
From somewhere over her shoulder, Astrid heard murmurs of such a discussion. A grime-covered Lori, Rick, and Shane were huddled together, determining their next move in regard to the fates of the Harrison sisters. In the shadow of the RV's awning, Andrea, still clinging to her sister's ghost, sat vigilantly beside Amy's lifeless form, and refused to let anyone from the camp's makeshift cleanup crew near her—lest they come with ill intentions. Astrid understood Andrea's grief and understood her hesitance for aid or comfort. Without her little sister, Andrea's world was crumbling around her, her little strength left to even sit upright teetering on the edge of despair.
Determined to provide some solace for the grieving sibling—a pain Astrid knew all too well—she made the quick decision on her own to approach Andrea. With a wince of pain, she rose shakily to her feet.
But before she could take a step, Jim grabbed her arm. "What're you doing?" He asked.
"I'm going to see Andrea," Astrid answered. She pulled lightly against his grip and wobbled despite herself.
"Do you need help getting over there?"
"Yeah, actually. If you don't mind—"
"I've got it," A gruff voice interjected, cutting Astrid off. Unsure of where he had even come from, Daryl Dixon had suddenly appeared by her side, his presence demanding attention. He stepped in between the two prior conversing adults and, with a stern look—as if daring Jim to protest his genuinely unnecessary help—he took Astrid's skinny arm in his own grasp. Disappointed, but wise enough to know better, Jim walked away without another word and returned to the bodies that still needed to be discarded. Astrid reluctantly watched the dejected man go.
