Consumed by fate

In which we meet the strangers

        Walter sits down in the sidewalk, behind the dumpsters, as Peter said. The full moon shining in the sky above is the only thing that lights the way. He hugs himself with shaking hands, humming songs he didn't even know he still remembered. It has been long three years since the outbreak. Peter always treated him as if Walter was the son. But the last three years have been the worse. He almost felt like a child. Were it not for Astrid lifting him morally every once in a while, he would already accept he was useless. Useless... That's a funny word to use when you want to describe the man who might save the world.

- Row, row, row your boat... gently...

His voice is interrupted by that awful sound of metal diving into wet skulls. He covers his ears, still shaking due to the cold weather, and tries his best not to look at the tarmac ahead. But he can't. There are his son and his wife, taking away three of the things. There are already two of the dead on the ground, still, lying motionless and covered in black blood around them as Olivia shoves her crowbar deep down the back of the head of a male one. It falls to the ground without a single sound. She leaps towards the next one as Peter smashes a female's head with his baseball bat. Olivia had already killed the third by the time Peter finishes the woman.

- ROW, ROW, ROW, YOUR BOAT GENTLY DOWN THE STREAM. MERRILY, MERRILY, MERRILY, MERILLY, LIFE IS BUT A DREAM.

- Walter! - Astrid whispers as she crouches by his side - Hey, Walter. Are you okay?

Walter smiles wide at her, nodding firmly. He's so glad yet surprised at how quickly Astrid noticed him.

- Yes, dear, I am fine. I am fine.

- Okay, but try to keep it down a bit, right, Walter? - she still whispers. Incredible how she never changed her tone whenever she had to babysit him. When Astrid was around. Those were the only moments Walter enjoyed getting treated like a child. Peter is so rough, and Astrid is the complete opposite. The last months, whenever Walter finds himself thinking about his life before the outbreak, before Olivia got him out of Saint Claire or even before Saint Claire, when Elizabeth was still alive, he always tries to picture a daughter of his. Astrid is so gentle she makes him forget any daughter he ever wished he had had.

- Walter? - Olivia stops in front of them, opening her arms, shaking the small drops of blood out of her leather jacket sleeves - Come on, Walter. We've gotta go.

Walter slowly stands up, helped by Astrid, and starts walking onwards.

- Where are we going, dear?

Olivia quickly looks back at them as she leads them to Peter.

- There are some cars up there on the road. - she says, pointing at a highway ahead, using the same arm to whipe away the sweat from her forehead - Peter thinks we should give it a try. Maybe we can find a clear place to park and sleep, or even find a house. It's worth a try - she chuckles, even though she shakes her head in a negative sign.

- What is it? - he asks.

She stops for a second as Peter approaches them, raising an eyebrow at her.

- It's... It's nothing.

Peter stretches an arm, shaking a bunch of keys in front of them.

- What colour do you think our sweet ride is, Walter?

Astrid chuckles, grabbing Walter's right arm and rubbing her gloved hand against him, causing a gentle heat to raise on his sweater.

- Let's go. I bet it's not far.

They start moving on, Peter leading the way raising the car key and pressing it every ten steps. It takes them three or four minutes to reach the highway, and finally a blue minivan answers to their call. The weak lights of the car flicker softly and the sound of doorlocks getting up fills the air.