Chapter 20

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"you wandered through the willows in the forest you were found

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"you wandered through the willows
in the forest you were found..
..the hunter becomes the hunted."
- The Hunted, Snow Ghosts



I run, flitting through the forest as fast as my legs can carry me.

Memories of Willow bleeding in my arms resurface and contend with the fresh thoughts of Carl bleeding in my arms. I couldn't help Willow, but I can help Carl.

So I race on alone, having left the others behind.

We had started together, Rick running beside me, Carl's seemingly lifeless body in his arms, while Shane followed behind, dragging the shooter with him.

"Hey! You move, shithead! Come on, get us there!" he'd shouted at the man responsible for shooting Carl, yanking him forward.

He was a big man, tall and a little overweight, and he struggled to keep up with us. And I struggled to slow down. We were relying on this man to lead the way and we weren't moving fast enough. Every second counted.

Rick turned to face them. "How far?! HOW FAR?!" he screamed desperately at the man.

"Half a mile- that way!" the man managed between heavy pants, "Hershel- Talk to Hershel! He'll help your boy." He was bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Rick turned and charged on, and I jogged with him, leaving Shane and the man behind.

We just needed more time.

"I'll find him." I said to Rick, before taking off, leaving him behind as well.

Pre-virus, I would go for a run almost every day. It's been a little while, but muscle memory and adrenaline back me up.

I exit the tree line, flying out into an open grass field and spot a big, white house in the distance. This has to be the farm. Oh, please be the farm!

I race across the field but feel as if I'm running on the spot, not making any progress. The big home doesn't seem to be getting any closer. It's despairing. I was too late to help Willow, too late to help Amy, too late to help Sophia. Now, I'm going to be too late to help Carl.

Anger gives me the extra boost I need. As I begin to close in, I make out someone standing on the porch. I try to wave to them but they retreat inside. When I finally reach their fence line, I start screaming out.

"HELP!"

I slip through a gap in the fence and head for the house as four people file out through the door. They all stand at the top of the porch steps, one of them with a baseball bat in hand. I hadn't even considered they might see me as a threat or that they could be a threat to me. I have no idea what I've run in to, but there's no time for conversation and making everyone feel comfortable.

PROTECTOR | Shane WalshWhere stories live. Discover now