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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[ xii. final resting place ]
october 26th, 2010
➸➸➸
ANOTHER DAY PASSED. BODIES had now been buried. Condolences closed. Yet the nightmare of living persisted. But Astrid Lancaster, who lingered in the balance of such demise, in the ashes, had to keep moving.
Around her, group members hurried through the skeleton of the former quarry camp, frantic in their preparations to gather up their gear so that they could leave. Astrid was already packed, her single bag securely strapped over her shoulder. The decision had finally been made by the group to move towards the CDC in the hope of finding refuge—for Jim and for themselves. And Astrid had chosen to join them. The world beyond this place was treacherous, and she knew she could not survive it alone. Not anymore. She needed the support and safety of a unified—well, mostly unified—group.
A faint scratch of static interrupted Astrid's thoughts, drawing her attention away from her daze. She looked up to see Rick Grimes reentering the grounds of the camp. He was clutching an old walkie-talkie tightly. Curiosity filled her as she tilted her head and called out, "Who's on the other line of that thing?"
Rick turned to the sound of her voice and then glanced at the talkie in his hands. He smiled to himself—but it appeared strained on his tired features. "When I first woke up from my coma, I was saved by a man—Morgan—and his son," He explained, walking closer to where Astrid sat. "They helped me stay alive. They showed me what the world had become. We were only together for a few days before deciding to split ways. I had to find my family, and they wanted to stay back—at least for a couple more days. These talkies were for if they wanted to keep in touch. In case they ever wanted to follow me."
"Has he replied?" Astrid wondered.
Rick shook his head. "He hasn't," He answered. "And I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing."
The sight of Rick's worry for his friend tugged at something within Astrid, and a frown formed on her lips. "Don't worry," She immediately attempted to reassure him. "Maybe . . . Maybe he's just caught up in something—or maybe he's still too far out to make contact. You said you had come from King County, and Shane mentioned that those talkies were pretty unreliable, right?" Rick nodded, and she continued. "You can't jump to the worst-case scenario then. You have to hold out hope that they're alright."
Rick swallowed thickly. "He's out there somewhere. He has to be," He agreed. "He's tough. So is his son, despite what he's seen. What he's been through." His gaze shifted toward the RV where his own son stood beside Lori. "Can't help but wonder, then, what this kind of environment could turn Carl into."
Astrid followed Rick's stare, her eyes resting on the young boy. He was blissfully unaware of their watchful gazes. Looking back to Rick, Astrid spoke earnestly, seeking to alleviate the father's concerns. "Carl is going to survive this, Rick. He's strong," She assured. "He's going to be able to handle whatever challenges are thrown his way." A gentle smile crept across her face. "Besides, he has you to protect him. That alone increases his chances by at least a thousand percent."
