Finding Sophia (The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Twenty-Seven: Alone Again

Andie Outfit 4

I don't know how long I was alone. All I knew was that I had a bullet in my leg and that I was all alone...again.

Losing the prison took its toll on both sides. We killed the majority of them, and I know the Governor was dead. I saw him fall. I ran off into the woods after I was shot, leaving everyone behind. I don't know if they're alive or dead or walkers or what...all I know was that I was shot, I was alone, hungry, and tired.

It's hard being alone after having everyone you love around you for so long. I don't know how long we've been apart, or if it's been a long time. I haven't eaten or slept since the prison and I only found a bottle of water. Living doesn't have the same meaning out here...it's all survival.

I haven't stopped moving. Walking seems to be the only thing I do.

I fall. Just in the middle of the road. My leg collapses and I land on the wound. I groan and hiss, clutching onto my leg. As I look back at my hands, all I see is the crimson blood. I let a sob escape my throat, but I'm done crying.

I've lost everyone. Rick, Carl, Judy, Lizzie, Maggie, Mika, Tyreese, Sasha, Bob, Daryl...everyone is dead. Sophia...Sophia is dead. Sophia was killed by the one man I never wanted to see again, the one man who ruined my whole life.

It's the fucking zombie apocalypse, and he runs a community that hurts people, blinds them from the reality that's right under their noses. No one saw what was really out there, and he only let a select few see how wrong it really was. How wrong he was. Even then, they didn't know how awful he was. They thought he was surviving, doing what was best for the group. He was a murderer and a sociopath.

He killed everyone. He killed everyone I loved. Martinez, Daryl, Sophia, everyone I opened myself up to. He murdered them in cold blood. He fucking murdered them. I never killed anybody that didn't wrong me, and I know the people at the prison would only kill for the same reason. Wronging in this world...but no one ever wronged Phillip. He wronged himself and blamed it on the people around him.

I forced myself to stand back up, clutching onto the pistol I found. A pistol with only one bullet in my right hand and a screwdriver in my left. A bullet in my leg and walkers all around me. I was going to die.

I was supposed to be dead.

I was a painter in hell. I was a streak of color living in a black and white world.

I walked. I just kept moving, away from my past, away from everything. That's how I convinced myself to keep moving, that I was leaving them behind, the people who tried to bring me down, and ultimately kill me.

My name is Andie. Short for Anthea, not Andrea or Cassandra or Mandy or any other stupid name my parents may have decided to give me when I was born. I'm Andie Piper, short for Anthea.

I can't just stop walking away, either.

Convincing myself that I was doing the right thing, leaving behind everything me. I couldn't exactly go looking for them with my leg. I needed to stick to the railroad tracks and make it away. I needed to find some food, some medicine.

I put the screwdriver in the eye of a walker and cursed as the metal bit broke off. All I have left is a pistol with a single bullet. Holding the weapon close, I managed to limp inside a garage, bolting the door behind me. It seemed to be a secure place to stay for the night. Looking around the room, I saw seven cars. Seven cars of supplies, perhaps, or seven cars full of geeks. Looking at the walls, I pulled the fire axe down and put my gun in the back of my pants. I checked the first four cars with no luck, and finally, there was a walker. He'd taken pills...a lot of them. He was still buckled in the car, his hands on the window.

He had headphones thrown loosely around his neck, on the verge of falling off, and a Star Wars t-shirt on. Black hair, I think, and those milky grey eyes.

"Geek." I mutter, opening the car door. I back off as his top part falls off, leaving nothing behind but the bottom. I plant the axe in his head, destroying his headphones. Checking his pockets, I find a driver's license and a twenty. Blue eyes. He had blue eyes. "Niall Robinson." I read aloud, looking at the license. I sigh and set it down.

My leg starts to burn like hell. I hiss and send my hand to assist it. I look at his pill jug, and seeing it was Advil with two remaining, I swallowed them both without hesitation. I hoped that would help, at least with the pain. I had a lot of walking to do tomorrow.

I finished checking the rest of the cars, finding a half a pallet of water in the trunk of one, thank God, another screwdriver, a brown bag in another, and a walker in a trunk. Her hands were bound and her feet were tied. I stared at her a moment. She wasn't moving, at least not enough to count. Walkers moved more slowly when they hadn't eaten in a while, but they never died. They lived until head force trauma.

I looked at her a moment before plunging the screwdriver in her temple. I wanted to cry. That could've been me, or Sophia, or Maggie, or Michonne. It could've been. But it wasn't.

I started doing something I hadn't in a long time. Slowly, but surely, I recited, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

I slide down against the wall of the garage, sipping on one of the water bottles. I groaned, looking at my leg. I rested my head on the wall and slowly let sleep take me. I hadn't slept in God knows how long. I didn't know if I could forgive Phillip for what he's done...I couldn't forgive myself...I let everything slip through my fingers, and I was alone again.