Who We Are | TWD

━━━EPILOGUE

    The dirty hands reached for him clutching onto his clothes as the heels of his boots dug into the dirt, searching for any sort of purchase they could get. His throat felt raw, coated in pain as he screamed . . . screamed for his little girl to run.

    He saw her go. That was sure enough. He saw her little feet trampling over the ground amongst those of the dead. He wanted to wait, watch her leave before he could die soundly. It was over for him now. He could feel it. The entirety of himself was melting into the ground, ready to be taken from this world. He did what he could and it would have to be enough.

    The only problem was that Cole Sallow wasn't one to give up easily.

    He felt a pair of hands enclosing on his forearm. He turned his head just enough to come face to face with a walker, it's wide jaws pulled apart, jagged teeth ready to puncture his skin. Cole's free hand struggled for his knife, just barely able to grab it from his waistband and bring it to the side to make contact with its skull. He could feel more hands grabbing at his feet, so promptly kicked his boots as harshly as he could to fend them off.

    He was surrounded. Completely and utterly surrounded. All he could see were corpses, their knees buckling and dropping to the ground to get closer to him. He cringed at the sight, feeling the tugging at his clothes, but wouldn't let it stop him. If there was even a chance for him to make it out and be with his kids, he was going to take it.

    Cole twisted onto his back, jamming his knife into the skulls that were close enough, kicking his feet at the ones that weren't. It was tiring, but he managed to scoot backwards a few inches, using the measly distance he had created for himself to get back onto his feet. The walkers followed, upset that their meal hadn't been the easy kill they were expecting.

    There was only a small cluster around him now. The others had been killed off or found interest in his daughter, something that filled him with more and more concern since he couldn't see her amongst the numbers of dead ones. She was so small. She shouldn't have even been out there.

    His eyes scanned the area anxiously while he multitasked at bringing a few more walkers towards the grassy carpet. He barely caught the glimpse of the car parked a little ways from the flaming barn and Emmie's tiny figure climbing into the back before slamming it shut behind her. She was safe.

    The car managed to pull away, but not before it was mobbed by the dead, hands slapping harshly against the glass windows. He knew she was safe with whoever was inside, but still needed to worry about his son. A walker dove for him, hands pulling on his neck with its teeth ready to take hold of his shoulder, but Cole killed it off before it could even do anything to him.

    Another walker lunged for Cole, acting quickly, he sunk his blade in its head before letting it flop to the ground and taking the only opportunity he had to make a break for the back door of the old farmhouse. He needed to get inside and grab Milo before they left.

    The front of the house was  nearly swarmed at that point. Plus, the last thing Cole wanted to do was get in Hershel's line of fire. He had still been able to hear the pops of the shotgun when he had begun to run towards the back of the house, but as he was about to round the corner, they had died off, the growling of the dead filling its place.

    Cole's muscles ached, but he pushed through, ignoring any ounce of pain that littered his body. He couldn't stop. That wasn't an option. He also refused to let himself even take a glance behind him. He knew his pursuers weren't far behind. He didn't need the daunting scene of it all playing in his head on repeat as he tried to get away.