"I don't sing when I'm told, I sing when I have something to say"
Priscilla Fellowes, once a talented performer before the apocalypse, crosses paths with a group of survivors. With her unique skills and resilience, she becomes an invaluable ally to...
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"Bob!" Sasha's voice pierced the night, and everyone sprinted outside. Bob lay unconscious on the grass, his leg brutally maimed as walkers snarled around him. Sasha's desperate cries echoed through the chaos as the group sprang into action, killing the walkers with fierce precision.
Rick turned to Priscilla, pointing towards the door. She nodded, clutching Judith tightly, and hurried back into the church. Her heart pounded as she stood by the door, waiting anxiously for the group to finish. The sounds of battle and Sasha's heart-wrenching sobs filled the air, mingling with Priscilla's own fears and the quiet, fragile breaths of the baby in her arms.
"I was in a graveyard. Somebody knocked me out." Bob's voice trembled with pain as he lay surrounded by the group. Priscilla sat beside Eugene and Rosita, listening intently.
Sasha clutched Bob's hand tightly, her eyes filled with worry. "I woke up outside this place-it looked like a school," Bob continued, his voice growing weaker. "It was that guy, Gareth, and five others." He paused, his breath ragged. "They were eating my leg right in front of me."
Priscilla felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She exchanged a horrified glance with Rosita, both women visibly repulsed by the gruesome revelation. The air grew heavy with tension and unspoken fear as Bob's words sank in, the reality of their world pressing down on them like a vice.
"Did they have Daryl and Carol?" Rick's voice cut through the tense silence, his eyes locking onto Bob's with an intensity that demanded the truth.
Bob struggled to focus, his gaze flickering between faces before settling on Rick's. "Gareth said they drove off," he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Priscilla exhaled a sigh of relief, her tension momentarily easing. Around her, the others mirrored her reaction, their collective relief palpable. The weight of uncertainty lifted just slightly.
Bob groaned in agony as they gathered around him, trying to offer what comfort they could. Sasha's voice trembled as she asked Rosita, "He's in pain. Do we have anything that can help?"
Rosita nodded, her expression grim. "I think there are some painkillers in the first aid kit."
"Save 'em," Bob interjected weakly, shaking his head.
Sasha was about to argue, her concern clear, but Bob slowly moved his shirt aside, revealing a gruesome bite mark. Sasha froze, her breath catching in her throat as the horrific realization set in. The sight of the bite rendered her speechless, her eyes filling with tears as she struggled to process the devastating truth.
"It happened at the food bank," Bob confessed, his voice strained with pain and regret. A heavy silence fell over the group as they exchanged solemn, knowing glances. Priscilla lowered her head, feeling a deep sadness wash over her. She had always liked Bob; he was kind and had a way of making people feel at ease.
