OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
[ xxxvii. she's still gone ]
july 2nd, 2012
➸➸➸
DARYL DIXON CLUTCHED ASTRID'S delicate form tighter against his chest, cradling her with an almost desperate tightness. Her blood stained his forearms, while his tears left their mark upon her lifeless cheeks.
She was gone.
A single bullet had torn through the side of her head, stealing away her heartbeat—and shattering his own life and future in an instant.
Daryl's body trembled with an almost uncontrollable intensity. Behind him, walkers were approaching. He and the others left alive had distanced themselves from the Grady Memorial Hospital but had not gone far enough just yet. Outskirts of the city surrounded them as they stopped for a brief breath and to regroup, but the strain of exhaustion was evident in the hunter's weakening arms. They could have been long gone from Atlanta by now, but the mere thought of leaving it without Astrid was inconceivable to him.
"We need to move!" Abraham Ford urged sharply.
Elsewhere, gathered around an abandoned, burned-out car, a smaller group of survivors stood motionless, their hearts as heavy as their tears. Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, and Daryl himself struggled against their grief, and what they must do beyond it. The open trunk of the small vehicle offered a final resting place, but none could bear to place Astrid's body within it. Guilt weighed heavily upon Daryl. His wife deserved a proper burial—one he could not give her.
Daryl pulled Astrid even closer, as if she could seep into him, a place where he could always protect her. Her head slumped further down against his shoulder. His fingers traced through her stiff, blood-matted hair, and with a whispered plea, he said, almost weakly, "Just go." Silence was the only reply. Glenn attempted to touch them, to guide them apart, and Daryl's heartache turned briefly to anger. "Don't touch her," He growled.
"Daryl . . ."
"Go!" He dismissed sternly. "You're wastin' time. I don't have anythin' else—"
"We're not leaving without you," Rick protested, his tear-streaked eyes pleading.
Daryl gritted his teeth and turned to his brother beside him. "Well, I'm not leavin' without her!"
As his friends took hesitant steps backward, their shocked faces morphing into distant fear, Daryl felt the brewing storm within his bones. The hunter knew he was slowly transforming into a monstrous version of himself, unable to release his grip on the only peace—the only home—he had left. He had begged Astrid to hold on, and she had let go. Now, all he could do was let himself go, too.
"They're coming!" Tara announced from somewhere behind them. A snarl of a walker echoed the warning.
"Daryl," Maggie pleaded cautiously. She was still crying, too. Could barely speak between her gasps. "I can't imagine your pain. None of us want this, but we have to leave. It's not safe here. Please."
