The Walking Dead: What Rests Ahead

Chapter 15:

(Author's Note: Sorry I haven't been updating regularly. I'm going to try to get caught up with where the show actually is by the time the show comes back for the second half of season 5. So expect a bunch of updates. Hopefully. Maybe. Probably not. Hahahahaha yeahhhhh.)

We found the preacher a day after we found Judith and Tyreese. We'd been searching for food and shelter for hours, the sun shining high in the post-apocalyptic sky. My feet ached, but I didn't want to seem useless so I plowed on ahead, sticking close to Carl the entire time.

"So..." Carl mused, trying to start up a conversation. The others were behind us by now, finding it amusing that the "kids" were leading the way. Rick was closer though, alert as always.

"So, what?" I sighed.

"So, who are you?" He continued, stepping over a fallen log, his eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

"I told you, my name is Hannah," I laughed.

"No, no, no. I mean, who are you?" Seeing my confused look, he elaborated. "You show up out of nowhere, help us break out of a cannibal-filled town for no apparent reason, and then you stick around for the ride? You have to have a story. You did something, were someone before the world ended. And I wanna know what you were before...and what you are now."

I thought for a moment. "I'm human. I'm alive. That's all I have to be."

"But there has to be more," he protested, his eyebrows crinkling together slightly. I peered at his face. I'd never realised how tall he was in comparison to me. The light breeze ruffled his curly hair, the ends stuck to his forehead with sweat.

Shoot, I was staring. Snapping back to the task at hand, I made my steps align with his. "You can't dwell in the past. That's how you end up dead." I replied, the words a mantra to me.

He grinned deviously, "You know that's not true. In fact, the past is the only thing keeping us alive. It's the only reason to live. It's all we have left."

Our footsteps beat the forest floor to the same beat. "I suppose."

"So, tell me. Who are you? Or who were you?"

"Nothing interesting," I replied, wanting to brush off how red my face became when he talked to me.

"I bet that's not true," he chuckled, nudging me jokingly.

"Well, I bet it is." I said, competitively.

"Alright, if you tell me something about yourself and I find it intriguing, you owe me an apology. And you have to say that I am the most attractive surviver left on this earth."

I blushed more.

"Agreed?" He laughed.

"Fine, fine. I was just like everyone else. I went to school, I listened to crappy pop music, I wasted money on things I'd never need. Same as everyone else."

He sighed, obviously frustrated. "Hannah, there had to be something. Something you loved. Something you were proud of."

"Yes...there was," I mumbled. "There used to be."

Just as I was about to speak more, a man's scream vibrated throughout the woods. Immediately, I raised the axe in my hand, ready for whatever was about to happen. I glanced at Carl and watched his face transform from a boy having a regular conversation to someone who was ready to save whoever made that yell. He turned into a hero. Right before my eyes.

And then he was off.

"Carl! No!" Rick yelled and raced after him, grabbing his arm.

"We have to save them!" Carl said, desperation making his voice crack.

"We don't know this person, they could be a Terminus surviver, they could be worse-"

"But we have to see. If we stay here, we'd be killers. We'd be just as bad as the people we fear. We-"

"Carl, stop-"

"No!" He ripped his arm away and dashed into the forest.

"Carl!" I yelled and was the first one to run after him. He's going to get himself KILLED. I thought.

A minute later, we caught up to him and stopped dead in our tracks. Up ahead, I could see a black man, old enough to be my father, trapped on top of a rock. The walkers were around him. The...three walkers? Really? He was almost in tears, obviously scared out of his wits. For three walkers?

Rick walked up to the monsters and bashed one of their heads with the butt of his gun. Daryl shot another one with his crossbow and I chopped the last one with my axe.

We stared at the man. He kept crying. We kept staring. He stopped crying.

"T-thank you. That was...that was close."

We kept staring.

"That was the closest I've been to...to them," the man rambled. I raised my eyebrows. "Do...I mean...you guys kill these things, right?"

Rick cleared his throat. "Um, yes."

The man sighed in relief and asked nervously, "Can...can I please...um stay with you for a while?"

Rick gave a look to Daryl. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Well, none," He answered.

"Okay...how many people have you killed?"

"None, none, I haven't killed anyone!"

Rick frowned, "Why?"

"Killing is against the Lord's word."

How is he still alive? We kill every day. How has he gotten away with not harming anyone?

"Please, I have a place to stay, a church, you all can stay. I have food and it's safe enough just please don't leave me," he begged.

Rick gazed at the group and back to the desperate, pathetic man. And we were lost for words.