my tears ricochet

Chapter Seventy Six

"It'll be okay," Ivy whispered to the unfinished starlight in the sky as she caught sight of how vibrant Carl's blood was and how quickly it spread. The entire world seemed to fall apart as Lori's son bled onto a street full of walkers, catching at their attention just as easily as the gunshot had. They were merely sharks drawn to that hurt, his blood sharper than the camouflage of old gore smeared across their arms and faces.

Rick caught him with one arm and braced Carl against him, wheeling around for the best options available. And Ivy saw the math he was playing out, recognized the frantic urgency in picking a direction, the choices being made.

Carl simply needed to get to the clinic. They needed shelter, the security of a fortified door.

Ivy didn't need either of those things.

Rick's hand on his hatchet went slack as he held it out and Ivy caught it, pushing herself to stand up straighter. "Try," she said hoarsely, looking around at the bodies forming a wall around them. But there was a break. Two smaller walkers staggered sideways, one hooked onto the other's belt somehow. "Try and get him help."

'You stick to somewhere until I find you. You hear?'

'Sorry, dad,' Ivy thought bleakly as her ears rang, as she heard her heartbeat pounding wildly just like any song. It wasn't the same as the cassettes Beth liked playing on repeat but she still heard it clear. 'Live, die, live, die.'

People had to survive and if she gave them a chance, they could get to that clinic. Bob would be behind that door and he could do something about the damage, saving the life of the boy. Ivy simply had to provide them the cover to get moving, had to let them scramble for the chance of surviving.

Because Lori would have wanted Carl to survive.

Lori had been kindness; her hand sweeping back damage and old bits of hurt, life catching in the hopelessness. And she couldn't ever forget that.

Ivy held the hatchet tighter in her hand and watched for Michonne to move away first, the woman slashing at a target with her sword, before she could move in the opposite direction towards that tiny space of chances. "Over here, you pricks!" She shouted, grabbing the sheet from around her shoulders with one hand and whipping it out, catching the two connected walkers in the face and blinding them. "Fuck you! Come on, I'm right here!"

Rick was holding Carl and they vanished; Michonne and Deanna with him. Ivy was running, ducking low to avoid the forest of hands and teeth. The streets made it easier to run across but she had to keep moving, invisibility long gone. The sky was merely a veil of darkness and she had to shove attention away from the others still.

She struck the first walker down hard. Ivy's hand managed to grab at the knife from her belt and she stabbed it into it's face, slamming the hatchet down to help wrench the blade back easier.

The danger made her demented. Ivy shrieked as she pushed one grimy figure back, choking on a hysteric laugh as she kept going. Any chance of surviving was gone and it was merely a fight to draw it out, anything to claw for the last bits of life she had left.

Because she couldn't stop.

Mailboxes looked like graves as she rushed across the length of pavement and chalk drawings were mere outlines beneath her feet. The herd was consuming all of the space that Alexandria had to offer and the haven was a fading heartbeat beneath the night sky.

Someone might clean the mess up. Someone might take the pieces left and rebuild.

Someone might be left to keep it all going.

Ivy wasn't Abraham or Daryl. She didn't have the luxury of their brute strength to conquer the sea of the undead. But she had learned enough over time, adapting to their world and dangers that came with it, moving her feet the way Glenn would have; mapping out the nearest options as she tore down another body in her way. Hershel would have taken the last stand, Oscar would have pushed her towards a wall so she could fight with something solid against her spine.