Our Life (Sequel to "Remnants")

Under the Dust

-Carl-

Alexandria was a thriving community - people could not just survive here, but also live here. If it weren't for the constant clattering of the undead pounding in vain against the steel walls - constantly reminding us of their deadly presence on the other side - you could easily be fooled into thinking that there was no such thing as the apocalypse.

There were 201 families now living in the zone - its population having almost doubled since Negan's attack nine months ago - with over 500 people now occupying Alexandria. The community was extended three times in the past year to allow for further housing to be built in order to accommodate new arrivals, so with these facts it would be obviously assumed that one was never lonely here.

That wasn't true, however. If the one person you loved - after all the hardships you have endured together - was not there with you, you could never not feel lonely.

Right now, I just wished for Riley's return - he, Michonne and Daryl had been gone for a while, much longer than usual. I had no doubt that, in the presence of the group's two arguably most fearsome survivalists, he was safe - but that did not change the fact that, sporadically aggressive or not, I longed for his return as soon as possible.

I love you Riley...

—-

-Riley-

"Get down this 'ere ladder," the unknown survivor instructed, motioning to the hole in the floor that led back down into the welcoming light of the hallway.

The darkness made it difficult to see, but was able to identify the menacing, life-threatening tip of a crossbow bolt aimed between my eyes.

I would have gladly returned to the hallway with or without his threat, however, and obliged nervously with the crossbow followed my movement as I began to climb back down the ladder.

I could only assume this man to be the scavenger who had rigged traps on the road, but I was not certain as to his agenda.

When I noticed Daryl slumped against the wall, it was clear that whoever this man was, his intentions were not good. I could not determine whether or not Daryl was either merely unconscious or actually dead, but upon noticing my concern, the assailant replied "he's alive."

He didn't kill Daryl, so I guess this guy's not completely bad - unless he has something worse in mind...

At that moment, I recalled in great fear how Negan had spared my life just to kill Carol in front of my face and torment me both physically and mentally for 12 whole hours, and upon that recollection a whole new wave of fear utterly drowned me.

I turned around to face the man who was threatening me, and got my first clear view of my attacker.

He was quite an elderly man - perhaps 60 or 70 in age - with the scars that covered his face it was hard to tell.

And I do mean literally covered - there must have been at least thirty small gashes or scabs on his face, and they were certainly not a result of walker attacks.

Looks like this guy might not be entirely sane...

"Where are we going?" I stuttered nervously.

"Just into the next room," he explained, in a surprising non-threatening manner, "but don't speak unless you're spoken to."

He lead me into the one room Daryl and I were yet to examine, and I was shocked when I did.

The room was strewn with small household objects - some with sentimental value and others nothing more than ornaments; wooden figurines and other items.