Fight, Love, Live.

I

It only took me about ten minutes to build up my nerve to leave the building. When I did leave I was armed with a knife, one of my long thin ones that I used to slice the layers of the cake into even levels. It was tucked into my sleeve, so that if normal people came up to me, they wouldn't think I was crazy, but I was nervous. Scared that I would run into one of those things, that thing that ate that telecaster. 

I hopped into my car, it is pretty small. It is a blue MINI convertible that gets great gas mileage, but I wished now that it had a roof that wasn't collapsible. I sped down the street, and as there was almost no one out it was very easy, and I made it to my home in a little under five minutes. I lived in a small one bedroom, one and a half bathroom little home on the beach. It was cute, and just the right size for me since I lived alone. 

When I got there, I left the car running and ran upstairs to pack, with Bailey circling around my feet whining as I did. I took two suitcases and a backpack of clothes, and I drug them outside and put them in the trunk. Then I went back inside and packed up all of my nonperishables, and made myself some meals out of the perishable items that I stuffed into my yeti cooler, which  I hauled out and put in the back seat. When all of that stuff was finally in the car, I grabbed the plastic tub that held all of Bailey's dog food, put that in and finally went to get her. I put her leash on, led her out, strapped her in, and then went back inside for the last thing. It was in a safe, hidden behind a painting in the living room, in a secret hole in the wall that Rick helped me put in when I moved here. 

Inside was a few things, but I needed all of them. 

First, was my handgun. My small, two and a half inch Colt Python double action revolver. It is a beauty, and I got it from my father when he gave Rick his. Daddy said that a girl needs a gun, just maybe not one quite so big. So he bought me mine. It is rose gold plated stainless steel, with small floral embellishments over the whole thing, except for the grip, which is a shining white ivory. I grabbed it, and put it into it's holster on my waist, and then I reached in again. This time I grabbed my large hunting knife that I strapped to my thigh, and then I grabbed my .22 Magnum rifle, slung it over my shoulder, and then shoved all of the bullets that were in the safe into the last bag I had managed to find. It was a small bag, but it fit the several pounds of bullets I had managed to fit into the safe. 

When I was finally settled back in the car I began speeding down the road again, this time towards Ashton's house where he would probably be since he had Saturdays off from work. He lived further into town than I did and as I got closer I began slowing down. There were a lot of dead national guard laying on the road. I panicked, and stopped the car in the middle of the street, not feeling comfortable going further into the city, and pulled my phone from the console and dialed Ashton. Hopefully, he was doing the same thing I was and was looking for me, and wasn't at his house. 

He didn't answer. I tried again. Again, no answer. I groaned in frustration and banged my head on the steering wheel, trying to decide what to do. I drove on. It took me much longer than I would have like to get there. There were literally over a hundred dead men and women laying in the street as I approached the house, but when I finally got there I froze in the driveway. 

The door looked like it had been kicked in, and there were no signs of life in his house, or on his street. 

"Stay Bailey." I said quietly as I shut off the car and slowly climbed out, looking around to make sure nothing jumped out at me. I pulled my gun from my waist aiming it at the ground, hovering my finger over the trigger, ready. I slowly walked towards the door, and nudged it open with my foot as I stepped inside. What I saw was horrifying. 

There was a woman there, a blonde, someone I had never seen before so she was either new or a random neighbor that had gotten sick and had come in. She was kneeling over a body, and I could hear squishing noises as she ate what appeared to be the body's intestines. I gulped, and tried to hold down the vomit as I raised my gun and shot her in the head. I wasn't sure it was going to work, but I knew these things weren't human anymore. She dropped, intestines still in her mouth as I walked quickly over to the body. It was Ashton. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling, the gaping wound in his stomach slowly leaking blood onto the floor. 

I let the tears fall then. I fell to my knees beside him, cupped his face in my hands, as I tried to feel the love I once felt when I looked into his beautiful green eyes. Now all I felt was despair, trying to swallow me whole. I closed my eyes, trying to pull myself together so that I could leave, save myself and my baby, when the body beneath me began to move. I flinched, and my eyes snapped open to stare at the green eyes that I once loved, that had been staring blankly at the ceiling. Now he was looking at me, and not the ceiling, and his hands were reaching for me, trying to bring me closer to his mouth. 

But I couldn't let that happen. 

My gun was still in my right hand, where I had been cupping his face, and as he let out what sounded like a strange mix between a moan and a growl, I turned my hand and pulled the trigger. The bullet shot through his temple, and he became silent once again. 

**Edited Feb. 1, 2020**

Continuing with my trying to get to know you all... if there was one person from the Walking Dead that you wish wouldn't have died, who would it be?

Personally I really loved Merle, and I think they could have done a lot with his character development if they had kept him on for longer, but I also really wish they hadn't killed off Glenn... so... I'm split.