"Why do you care?"
"Because you let me. No one's let me care for them before...but you did."
"I've never allowed anyone to care for me before you showed up."
"Well..."
"I suppose we're in similar predicaments."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ
A Carl Grimes/Walking Dead F...
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3 Days Later...
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ
"You've got to be kidding me."
After days of walking along mind-numbing train tracks, days of narrowly escaping hoards of walkers, days of fearing every noise that surrounded me, I arrive to find Terminus in pure, blazing flames.
The building that had been stated to be a sanctuary for all who arrive, is burning brightly in the daylight with puffs of smoke rising high into the atmosphere. Big painted letters read the word 'Terminus' on the boarded up windows of the brick building, the last letter fading away due to the burning fire. The blazes are spread across the front and reaching all the way into what seems to be the inside.
It's a large establishment; humongous brick walls cover the inner areas from the outdoors, the right side being the forest and the left side containing around a dozen railways all convening together. There is a large chain-link fence wrapping around the outside walls, leaving a small space between the two support structures. However, the fence has been destroyed and trampled, only a select few panels remaining.
It seemed to be safe, emphasis on the past tense.
Presently, bright orange flames blaze brightly across the entirety of Terminus, safe for a handful of areas. Bricks topple over and wood creaks as it collapses from the shear heat of the fire. Ahead of me, around half a dozen walkers meander aimlessly on the concrete ground. The groan and moan, seemingly searching without hope for any source of food.
So much of me desires to either turn back around or continue down the plethora of train tracks that like the ground, but another part of me is curious and intrigued to gather more supplies if possible.
Gravel and loose rocks crunch under my shoes as I begin walking towards the epicenter of the fires.
My feet carry me over the fallen metal fence and across the cracked surface of concrete. The walkers are not threatening as I move, my footsteps are quiet enough to go unnoticed.
I travel to a slightly elevated platform and I find a large metal door, rusted and covered in various stains. The entrance is partially open and I raise my gun high before beginning to break the heavy metal open.
The sight in front of me is horrifyingly beautiful.
Terminus looks reminiscent of a town; it has winding paths through once secure brick walls, the walls connecting to what seems to be either working areas or living quarters. Plants had once grown in cement lined soil, yet that greenery has been burnt to a crisp. Woven canopy's hang over various areas and provided cover from the sun, yet they're now torn and destroyed. Walkers are present, but most have been killed by either gunshot to the head, a stab, or being lit on fire.
