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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[ xl. you're not real ]
august 3rd, 2012
➸➸➸
TIME CRAWLED IN SILENCE, the minutes stretching into hours as Astrid trudged forward, lost in the vast expanse of her thoughts. With her head bowed, eyes fixed on the map clutched in her hands, she barely noticed the world around her.
"You should keep your head up. It's dangerous to let your guard down."
"Who said my guard was down?" Astrid eventually responded, shattering the pause, sharp and abrupt. She did not stop walking, even as he glanced back at Morgan, who lagged behind, seemingly unaffected by her own urgency. It grated her nerves. "Why the hell are we checking out this warehouse, again?
"We need food," He answered. "We've got places to be, but an empty stomach won't get us there. And the light, we're losing it. We can wait out the night there if we have to."
"How far did you say it was?" She pressed, her finger tracing the myriad of lines she had written and added to the map over the passing weeks.
"Not far," Morgan reassured. "I saw a sign a few miles back."
Astrid pursed her lips. She conceded that they had covered substantial ground that day. Her feet now throbbed with each step. Stubbornly, she internally welcomed the prospect of a brief rest. Yet, the memory of the prior day's attack from the Wolf Men lingered. She dared to hope they were truly dead.
Not long after the pair had reached a final consensus, a colossal structure materialized in the distance. The forest around Astrid and Morgan faded as a forgotten society crawled back into being. As they approached the lone warehouse, its gates already opened, Astrid's lips curved, relieved that they could avoid at least one barrier that day. Stowing the map in her pocket, she replaced it with her knife and scanned the building for clues or any forced entries.
Painted on the building's farthest side in big letters, the Lancaster woman murmured the warehouse's catchphrase aloud, "How the harvest gets home."
Before she could take another step closer, Morgan's sudden grip on her arm halted her movements. "Wait," He commanded firmly. "Someone's been here. Recently."
Astrid frowned. "What?"
Her gaze followed to where Morgan pointed near the open gates, and her eyes widened as she took in what she had previously missed. A pile of walkers lay nearby, blood pooling beneath their bodies. The blood was fresh—too fresh for yesterday or even this morning. This carnage had to be less than an hour old.
Nonetheless, Morgan set his jaw determinedly. "Come on," He encouraged, already resuming his stride towards the warehouse.
"Are you insane?" Astrid protested, reaching out to stop him. "We can't just go in there. There might be people, dangerous like the ones from yesterday."
