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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[ xlix. it's beautiful until it isn't ]
august 14th, 2012
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ASTRID DIXON STEPPED FROM the bathroom that following morning, heart thrumming, as it had been for several hours now. Tendrils of wet hair escaped her twisted bun as she padded across the polished hardwood floor of the second-floor hallway and back to her bedroom, barefoot and restless. The sprawling mansion beneath her feet echoed with emptiness, save for the distant clatter in the kitchen where Carol cooked a late brunch. Bailey had already left for the foreseeable afternoon, going out with Carl and Ron, Jessie's elder son. Elsewhere Michonne and Rick worked, the former ensuring supplies were rationed, and the latter fortifying Alexandria's walls and defenses. And Maggie, meanwhile, still waited atop a lookout post near the main entry gate to Alexandria, as she had been for an endless night.
Astrid knew that her friend was devastated over Glenn's disappearance. She was, too—and the added absence of Daryl only created further pain. Like Maggie, sleep had eluded Astrid in a cycle of torment as her mind conjured horrific scenarios. Nightmares masquerading as a sure, impending reality.
Sinking tiredly onto her side of their shared, vacant bed, Astrid's hand dipped into the nearby bedside table and grabbed the CB radio. She hesitated upon pushing any button, instead staring at the device as if it held the answers she dreaded to hear. An unbearable reality closed in. Despite Rick's encouragement, Astrid had abandoned attempts to contact Daryl; the prospect was a sure descent into madness that she could not take. All she could do was endure the excruciating wait. He had to come home. He had to. She needed him now more than ever.
So, Astrid opened the bedside drawer again and, without deliberation, relinquished the radio back into its confines. Then she closed it shut, sealing away the agony of anticipation. Donning her boots and securing her gun in her waistband, she rose and left the bedroom, no longer looking back.
Descending the stairs, she encountered Carol, silhouetted against the vastness of the kitchen. Her steely gaze was locked beyond the window located over the sink. "Carol?" Astrid called.
Carol startled, pivoting abruptly. Her expression was void of the customary, smiling façade Astrid had grown used to. She whisked Judith from her wooden highchair at the kitchen's center island and approached Astrid. "Could you watch her for a minute?" She asked. "I need to check on something."
Something was off, that much was certain in Carol's strange demeanor, but Astrid accepted Judith into her arms, nonetheless. "What did you see?" She wondered.
Carol paused, her lips pursed in a rare moment of reluctance. "Something I didn't like," She replied.
And then the Peletier woman was gone, the front door's resounding slam sealing her departure. Curiosity entangled Astrid, drawing her toward the window Carol had occupied moments before. Scanning the surroundings, Astrid's focus eventually narrowed on the sight of Carol now trailing behind Morgan Jones, who followed in the wake of Denise Cloyd. Puzzlement gnawed at the Dixon woman, and in an attempt to glean more insight, Astrid darted to another window deeper in the living room, but by the time she managed to pull back the curtains, the trio had vanished down the street, leaving her alone with a baby.
