A Shred of Hope (The Walking Dead) (The Final Season Retelling)

1. On the Road: Part I

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art....it has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival." - C.S. Lewis

She removed her knife from its sheath and stole a quick glance over the trunk of the car, before crouching to safety again. The sun glinted off the car, not nearly overhead yet. A slight breeze provided some respite to the living present on the street.

She was able to make out two walkers across the road, with their backs to her. Turning around to signal the little boy to hold his position, her attention returned to the dead.

She slowly got up, stealthily approaching the walkers from the back. There was a glint of silver followed by a squelching sound as the knife found its mark through the first walker's head. The second walker, just beginning to turn towards the noise, was swiftly kicked in the knee. It collapsed and with a second flash of the blade, met its demise.

As she sheathed the knife, she whistled to the boy, their pre-arranged signal for the all-clear. She wore a red jacket and what once used to be, a white T-shirt. Her jeans looked like it had been through better days, now, just a medley of blue and faded blood. Her baseball cap was splattered with dried blood along one side and a hole on the other that showed her dark brown hair. The cap was with her more so for the sentimental value than anything else. She also carried a backpack containing all their essentials.

The boy appeared from behind the car and walked to her side, an empty gas can in his hand, his eyes scanning the area for any other signs of danger. He wore a white full sleeves T-shirt, with brown and orange stripes along the arms and grey pants. His gun sat safely inside the holster she had made for him. Teaching a child to fire a gun would seem ghastly in most scenarios, even maybe in the current world, but she had taught him to use one, nonetheless, to protect himself, just like she had been taught early on.

The girl surveyed the street. Her name was Clementine. She had survived the early years of the outbreak with other survivors but, after inevitably losing several of them to the dead, had opted to survive on her own, along with the little boy. His parents had named him Alvin Junior, AJ for short, before they both succumbed. It had been over three years since she decided that life on the road was much safer for them. She believed that groups were a problem in themselves and would usually end in tragedy, as they always had for her.

There were a few buildings along the street, one of them being a store. The street was strewn with a few cars, most probably abandoned in the days after the outbreak. Gas was still a precious commodity, allowing them to move from place to place in search of other resources. It was difficult to stay in the same area for more than a while as people usually ran out of food and water, unless they resided in a community engaged in agricultural activities and close to a water source.

Clementine looked at the store and wondered whether they would find any food in there. Most places had already been raided by survivors through the years, but they did manage to find the untouched ones from time to time.

"What do you think we should do, AJ?" she asked, turning towards him. "Find gas or check out that store over there?" She pointed towards it.

"Well, we could get gas for our car first and then try the store." He paused. "Maybe we could find a place to stay here?" he asked, already knowing the answer to his question.

"You know that's not viable. Staying in one place for a long time has never served us well. Other people almost always find you. It's just better for us if we keep moving."

AJ nodded, disappointedly. "I know. It's just that...... I'm tired of being on the road. We barely stay more than two days in any place. All we're doing is moving. What if we had a place to stay? Maybe, with other people?"