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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[ lxv. i don't need a gun ]
october 16th, 2012
➸➸➸
"SCOUT CREW IS INCOMING. They're thirty minutes out, maybe less."
Paula's sure-set words buzzed through Astrid's mind like a warning bell tolling the approach of disaster, while she watched as the fiery-haired woman once again attended to the wounded Donnie. His condition had deteriorated rapidly. Despite the makeshift tourniquet, blood still gushed from his mangled limb, and his complexion had turned a shade of deathly pale. His time was slipping away, each second pushing him closer to certain death.
Astrid stayed motionless, however, and did not say this aloud. Allowing Donnie to succumb would level the slaughterhouse's playing field. Three against three. Astrid, Maggie, and Carol against Paula, Michelle, and Molly. They could take them.
"He doesn't have thirty minutes," Maggie insisted sharply. Of the three captive women, she had been the most vocal. Astrid was still silent. "His nerves are dying," Maggie continued. "His nerves are dying. If he doesn't get medical help, he's going to lose his arm. Maybe his life. I'm not a doctor, but my dad lost his leg, and I know that much."
Astrid's thoughts briefly drifted back to the prison, to the cramped cell where she, Carol, and Lori had fought desperately to save Hershel's life. Astrid had never once given up, had defied all odds to ensure the veterinarian pulled through, and he had. But only—only—because of what Hershel himself had taught her while on the road. His teachings had helped Astrid to save his life. And then, it had helped her to save others, like Carl, too.
Maggie's voice rose in challenge to Paula's indifference to her commentary. "Your man, Primo, do you think he can help you?" She gibed. "It's time to end this. Let us go and get him back. Talk to Rick."
Paula's response was more silence, her attention drawn to a small window tucked high on the far chamber wall. Was she scanning the scenery for her people? How many more might be coming in this scout crew? Astrid did not want to consider it and instead flexed her fingers once more against the bonds that held her. Her clammy hands were slowly loosening the grip of the duct tape cuffs.
Thirty minutes. That was their countdown to free themselves before it was too late.
Three precious ones passed, before Donnie abruptly stirred from his prone position, and wrenched Astrid from her thoughts. With trembling limbs and only one functional arm, he staggered upright, his pallor drained further by the blood loss. A tremor of weakness betrayed him as he struggled to maintain his balance.
"You know my problem?" The dying man spoke, though he had not been prompted. He limped forward until he had positioned himself squarely in front of Carol, his back turned to Astrid. Peering around his looming form, she caught the searing intensity of his glare fixed upon Carol. "She did this to me," Donnie spat the words with venom. "She did it, and she's just sitting there, right as rain, fully intact." He redirected his irritation towards Paula and jabbed a bloody finger in her direction. "You're not going to make the trade. We're just going to kill all three of them—right now."
