A Broken World

Eight-One

The railroad tracks stretched on for miles.

After a while they stopped feeling like tracks and started feeling like our whole world.

Walk.

Tie.

Rail.

Walk.

The rhythm settled into my legs until I wasn't thinking about it anymore.

Daryl stayed a few steps ahead of me, stopping every so often to look around. The woods stayed close on either side, thick enough that you couldn't see very far in.

Every few miles we'd find another sign.

SANCTUARY FOR ALL.

THOSE WHO ARRIVE SURVIVE.

Each one pointed farther down the tracks.

"They sure want people to find this place," I said.

"They do."

"You still don't trust it?"

He looked at the sign for another second before walking again.

"No."

"You think it's a trap?"

"I think folks don't usually advertise."

I couldn't argue with that.

---

By midday the sun was beating down hard.

We stopped long enough to drink some water and eat the last of our crackers.

I sat on one of the railroad ties while Daryl unfolded the map we'd found a couple days earlier.

"If we keep this pace..." he said.

"What?"

"We'll be there tomorrow."

"So close."

He folded the map again.

"If we're goin'."

"You still thinking about turning around?"

"I'm thinkin' about every option."

I leaned back on my hands.

"What if Rick's already there?"

Daryl didn't answer right away.

Finally he looked at me.

"Then we'll find him."

---

The rest of the afternoon was quiet.

Too quiet.

We hadn't seen another person in days.

Not even another campfire.

Just walkers wandering through the woods and the occasional abandoned backpack or shoe left beside the tracks.

Every one of them reminded me that somebody had been here before us.

I just hoped they had kept walking.

---

Near sunset Daryl suddenly stopped.

I nearly walked into him.

"What?"

He pointed toward the ground.

Fresh footprints.

Several people.

Different sizes.

One pair looked familiar.