Who We Were | TWD²

.002

Winter was dawning upon Cole Sallow as he trudged through the underbrush, the night before having been particularly cold when he had holed up in an old shed, clutching a tattered blanket close to his body because the wool jacket he had been wearing and pair of gloves weren't enough. Even then, the goose flesh on his skin begged for him to start a fire, but he knew he couldn't. There was no point in wasting the last of his matches when it was only going to get colder.

Although walking exhausted him and made his sore muscles ache even more, it was an action he had come to enjoy because of the fact it kept him warm. Underneath the hem of his beanie, he could feel the cool droplets of sweat beading on his forehead and across his knife handle as he clutched it at his side. A deep frost had instilled across the ground the previous night, attaching itself to the dying shrubs beneath his feet and empty branches of the canopies above. The frost had begun to melt at this point of the day, soaking his pant legs and leather boots. It froze his feet, even while wearing two pairs of socks, but his mind wasn't focused on his personal discomfort - it was focused on finding his children, no matter the cost.

The night he had gotten away from the farm, he stumbled aimlessly through the woods, switching back and forth from sprinting, until his lungs burned in his chest, to a quickened walk. After making leeway from the mobbed area and deeper into the forest, he put down the walkers he could. There was no point in his disguise anymore. There was no reason to hide.

Within a few hours, Cole eventually made it onto an old road, the cracked concrete dusted in a fine gravel and dirt from the lack of cleaning it had to endure. Fall leaves patched certain places of it, plastered to the road from showers of rain and mists of dew. He walked a little further along the road, only having a slight idea as to where he could be as he paced along. He didn't know the area very well. He hadn't gotten the chance to learn it any better.

After an hour of watching road signs that we're littered on the shoulders of the concrete path, hoping that they were pointing him in the right direction, Cole found a rusted, black truck parked to the side, windows blotted with streaks of dust. He walked towards it, knife raised with the intentions of killing any walkers that might still be lingering inside its doors. He cupped his hands to the window, pressing his face to the glass to see inside. The beginnings of dawn had been laid upon him, the sky gradually turning blue as sunlight rippled across the wisps of stratus clouds above. The cab was empty. With that, he opened the driver's side door and took a look.

There were no keys, even after his thorough searching between the seats and inside each compartment. This didn't stop him, however. Cole promptly got to work with trying to hot-wire the truck, even though it was obviously nothing more than a piece of junk. This truck was all he had to work with. It was his only option in helping him find his family.

Even while laying on his back, tinkering with the wires above him, it was no use. The truck refused to start, let alone give off a single sputter. Cole sat back up, assessing the situation once more before slamming his fist against the car door. "Piece of shit!" he yelled at the truck before stepping away, grabbing his belongings, slamming the door, and continuing on.

As Cole walked, he tried to keep a constant pace, put it was difficult to convince himself to. He was tired and hungry. There was no time for sleep and he wasn't ready to waste what little food he had taken with him yet, especially with winter so frighteningly close. It tainted his thoughts as he moved on.

Cole questioned what his motives with the truck were, anyways. What had he needed the truck for so badly? That's when he looked around him, a familiar sign staring him down up ahead. They had come this way. He had been on this road before. Backtracking it would mean that in a couple of hours, he'd land himself right back on the highway where they had been parked in search of supplies weeks ago. Hadn't that always been his innermost thoughts? To go back to the highway as a rendezvous point?

It would take three hours, at least, to get back there, but maybe only fifteen minutes, or less if he hurried, in a car. He picked up his pace a little more, deciding that the best way to get there would have to be by walking quickly. If the others were there, they'd probably be moving on soon. It's not a good idea to stay in one place too long, especially in an open area like that. Hadn't that been they're fault all along? They stayed there too long, walkers came, Sophia was chased away. He shook the negative thoughts away and pulled his backpack straps onto his shoulders more tightly.

Cole thought about how Rick had found his family. There was no reason he couldn't find his. They weren't far and he knew that for sure.

This concept carried Cole along the desolate road for hours until he had made it to the highway, weaving in between vehicles in search of the last place they had been - the place where they had left a note for Sophia. The sun was higher in the sky now, making him feel warm, but the cold winds that drawled across the area were chilling. It took a while, but Cole found it. He found the car, the faded lettering on the windshield, most of it washed away by now. There were a few spare cans left on the hood along with some bottles of sports drinks. He stopped, in disbelief that he'd actually made it all by himself, but there was nobody else there. He was alone.

He paced around the car, looking for any signs of life. The only things he noticed in the entire area were the freshness of muddy tire tracks painted on the cement and a dead walker on the ground, the blood haloed around its head still wet. He dipped his fingers in the liquid, pulling his hand back up to reveal his fingers to now be colored with the red blood. This confirmed his suspicions of them having been there. They left without him.

He stood up, completely nauseated as he rocked back and forth, his vision becoming blurry as he came to terms with his vile fate. He looked back at the blood on his hand again, the shininess of it sparkling in the bright sun. Cole's hand dropped back to his side as he swiped it against the cloak still wrapped around himself.

He managed to wobble back to the car, taking off his backpack and striping himself of the disgusting sheet. The stench was intolerable. He balled up the fabric and threw it with aggression, wishing he had someone to be angry at right now, but knew there wasn't anyone to blame but this awful world.

Becoming hungry, Cole took his pack and stuffed himself in the car where they had written the note for Sophia. The inside reeked of mildew, but he didn't mind as he drank one of the sports drinks that had been left on the hood and ate some of the tuna that he had taken with him. He felt numb, but tried to convince himself that he shouldn't. The fact that there was nobody here, but also signs that there had been meant that his son and daughter were still alive. Isn't that what he wanted?

One thing led to another and sadness became instilled within him. Another thing followed: a tinge of fear, something he so rarely experienced. The fear of being alone, however, was something that every human experiences at least once in their lives, to some degree or another, but this was different. Cole's fear was that he'd never have company again in his life.

And so as evening began to settle around him, Cole Sallow laid himself down in the back seat, hugging his coat to his chest and pulling his hat over his ears. The moon was his only source of light through the night, lighting up the occasional walker passing by his car, shoes scuffling against the pavement, but never stopping to pay kind of attention to his existence. Loneliness would become the best friend he'd ever had, even though Cole didn't like it very much.
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A/N: Just a little chapter, but I hope you liked it! A little sneak peak about what's going on with Cole! :)