A War On Her World | TWD: D. Dixon

Ch. 35

After the day of Merle's death and Rick's grand speech, things began to move quicker. All of the preparations we had set in place, were suddenly no longer preparations but a defence for the battle that was to begin.

It was just one day following these events that we all had to evacuate the prison as a part of the plan and a precaution for if the plan went south. Wasting no time, we packed up our belongings to make the place look as though it had been hastily abandoned so that when the Governor inevitably returned, they wouldn't suspect a thing.

Surprisingly, it wasn't hard for me to remove myself and my things from the prison. I wasn't sure if it was my lack of personal belongings that made it easy or my faith that this was only a small step before the place became our permanent home. Either way, that wasn't the hard part for me. The struggle came when I had nowhere else to stand than out in the open while dangerous people infiltrated our home. I knew that it was all a part of the plan, that our people would be lying in wait with the upper hand, but it still made me nervous. Things weren't bound to go the way we wanted them to just because we planned it that way. There was always a risk.

Very few of us were chosen to stay behind for the ambush. The ones that did, had to meet the criteria based on age and ability. Those that weren't handicapped by age or an injury, old or new, were the only ones accepted. Of course, I wasn't chosen, and for the time being, I was thankful for that. With my current disability, it was safe to say I was inept and I was okay with that. It was a fact, after all, one that I'd be putting all my effort into changing the minute everything settled down. The moment I had time to worry about my shortcomings rather than my life, I was going to do just that. I was going to become stronger.

I was going to protect the people around me.

Soon enough, from where I stood, a short distance in the treeline, I could see the people of Woodbury burst through our gates and into the yard leading up to the prison building. Watching them barge in, prepared to take the place by force, caused my heart to pound aggressively against my ribcage. It hit me that we had no way to tell which side was winning, not until one side came out. In that case, there was no way for them to call for help and nothing we could do to help them.

In the end, the only thing we could do was keep ourselves alive while they did their part. To do that, we had to stay alert.

No matter how I tried to stay calm on the outside, nothing could stop the tenseness in my shoulders or the small tremor in my hand. Nothing helped, not even holding my son close to my side. He was always able to soothe me in the past but did little for me in the present now that my problems were physical and out of my hand. Instead, the longer we stood around, the more I became all too aware of my body. The grass that brushed against my ankles where my pants didn't quite reach felt near unbearable, now, compared to its usual lack of presence. Everything just made the danger and risks weigh me down more and more.

While, in reality, it didn't take long for the end to appear, it felt like forever before I could finally see people retreating quickly from the premise. It was the first sign that things were going our way, to say I was relieved would have been a complete understatement.

We were winning.

Even though it was an overwhelming victory on our side and we deserved to celebrate that fact, there were a few things that I would continue to think about for the rest of my life. It would forever be burned into my mind how Carl killed a retreating, vulnerable young man. The male was surrendering, he wasn't going to hurt us, but Carl took it upon himself to shoot him without any thought of the consequences.

I knew he was just a child that became confused by the changes in the rules of society, however, that just made me all the more afraid. When the bullet had left his gun and the nameless boy's body dropped to the ground lifelessly, I audibly gasped. For a split moment, the young Grimes figure was replaced with an image of my own son grown up. While it was entirely unrelated, I couldn't help but see the change in the child as an example of what could be the outcome of every child in this new world. What was to stop all kids from growing up without knowing the value of a life other than their own?