SURVIVE.
❝ Let the end of the world be
inside you, then you don't
need to fear the end
of the world out there. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK ONE of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 1 - 3 ]
******
I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its...
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[ xxxv. a warrior in her own right ]
november 15th, 2010
➸➸➸
DARYL DIXON TORE DOWN the road, the caravan of cars in tow, a makeshift convoy racing toward death. Astrid clung to the hunter, both mere soldiers now in this desperate final stand. Lifting one hand, she raised her gun, and her shot cracked through the night, a fierce exhalation that fell one of the many hundreds of walkers. But still, the undead sea surged closer to the farmhouse, an unending tide ready to swallow them all. In a matter of minutes, gunfire and engine roars blended into a battle hymn.
Astrid's voice rippled beneath her breath. "We're going to run out of ammo before we even make a dent," She muttered, her trigger finger dancing once more as she fired another shot.
"No choice," Daryl growled through gritted teeth. He maneuvered with a jolting swerve, the motorcycle darting along the fence. Walkers attempted to reach them through the barbwire. "Ain't abandonin' this place just yet. Still a chance we can carve through this herd."
"Maybe," Astrid replied, her grip on Daryl's leather jacket tightening to keep herself balanced on the back of the bike. The farmland around them was in chaos—cars weaving and walkers lunging—but her eyes soon found Glenn in a distant field away. The young man was a high-wire act, hanging dangerously from the car, as he fired his shotgun into the horde. Astrid was both worried for his safety being so exposed and amazed that he had not fallen out of the SUV's window from the force of Maggie's reckless and jerky driving.
Then, a blazing inferno caught the corner of Astrid's eye. She suddenly turned, eyes widening at the barn's fiery status, a phoenix risen from ashes and bone. There was no saving the building. Daryl braked abruptly as he, too, caught sight of the burning barn. In his pause, walkers fell under his steady aim as he took a moment to shoot. After downing at least half a dozen, the hunter's steely gaze shifted to Jimmy, where the RV lingered nearby on the main dirt driveway. Without a word, the motorcycle roared forward, and Daryl waved a hand, catching the teen's attention from where he fired his own small gun out the driver's side window of the mobile home.
"Might've been Rick or Shane that started that fire," Daryl suggested. "Go around back. They might need help."
Jimmy nodded, his face a mask of youthful courage. "Alright, got it," He responded. The RV surged onward, a chariot facing the flames.
"Be careful!" Astrid cried out after him. She pressed herself closer against Daryl, her fingers sinking into his sides. "He'll be okay, right?" She wondered.
Daryl nodded. "Kid's got grit," He assured. "He'll be 'lright."
Astrid swallowed slowly, unconvinced. But there was nothing she could do now. The landscape blurred around them as they forwent the sight of the burning barn and sped up the road back toward the looming, dark farmhouse. Astrid glanced toward the porch, where Hershel stood his ground as promised, his shotgun a booming force against the encroaching undead.
