Too Far Gone // D. Dixon

chapter fifty-two

They had finally made it out.

Negan, Maren, Daryl and Gabriel had cautiously made their way through the desolate streets, their weary eyes scanning the desolate surroundings for any signs of danger. The courtyard had succumbed to the relentless onslaught of the undead, leaving behind a world consumed by chaos.

The group approached and navigated through the towering gates of the Sanctuary, their hearts pounding with anticipation. As they neared the entrance, the stench of decay filled the air, a telltale sign of the ever-approaching horde. Negan's eyes narrowed, his face etched with determination. He knew that their only chance of getting inside undetected was to continue.

There was no going back, certainly not now.

Maren looked at Daryl, her expression silently asking him for the comfort she needed. Daryl met her gaze, his face telling her everything he couldn't say aloud. She knew they'd be okay, both her and the baby. He'd make sure of that. She had unsheathed her familial knife and held it firmly by her side, just in case. Gabriel, a man of faith grappling with the horrors of the new world, gathered his resolve and joined them.

With the walker's putrid innards smeared disgustingly proportionate on their clothes and bodies, the group took a collective deep breath and stepped forward, prepared to face the sea of undead that awaited them. Their every move had to be precise, every step calculated to avoid the slightest disturbance that could give them away.

As they entered the dense horde, the tension mounted. The sound of crunching bones under their boots mingled with the guttural moans of the walkers, creating an eerie symphony of death. Each passing second felt like an eternity, their hearts racing as they navigated through the sea of decaying flesh.

Their eyes locked, communicating a silent determination and a shared understanding of the risks they were taking. With every step, they moved as one, their bodies blending seamlessly with the grotesque landscape of the undead. They pushed forward, inch by agonizing inch, their nerves on edge. The walkers, drawn to the scent of the living, lurched and stumbled around them, their cloudy eyes fixated on an unattainable feast.

Time seemed to stand still as they made their way towards the Sanctuary. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional groan of a walker or the rustle of decaying flesh. Each passing moment brought them closer to their destination, the tension threatening to overwhelm them.

Finally, with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, Negan, Maren, Daryl and Gabriel emerged from the horde, their bodies covered in a grotesque mosaic of blood and gore.

They stood at the gates of the Sanctuary now, their breaths ragged and their hearts pounding. As they looked back at the sea of walkers they had successfully maneuvered through, a renewed sense of hope flickered in their eyes. They knew that they had overcome yet another harrowing challenge. With a nod of acknowledgment, they pushed open the gates, stepping into the relative safety of the Sanctuary. The tension eased, replaced by a profound sense of accomplishment and the knowledge that they had defied the odds once again.

"Home sweet home." Negan spoke with a smile. Which was almost immediately interrupted by the sounds of distant shouting followed by a single gunshot. Shit was going down. Maren sent Negan a worried look, and the group quickly followed the sounds.

Negan, as per usual, whistled, making everyone kneel. Everyone knew that Regina had fucked up, killing one of the workers for seemingly no reason. Maren had been there long enough to know that Negan would definitely punish her, probably even kill her for that.

"Ah, Regina...now why'd you have to go and do that?" Negan spoke to the woman, "I am guessing that a lot of you fine folks thought I was dead, chewed up, never to be crapped out again. Well, here's a little refresher on who the hell I am."