Daisy | The Walking Dead

18. Treasure Trove Ⅰ

In an ironic twist of fate, Glenn found gratefulness for his past life as a pizza delivery boy. The intricate knowledge of the city's labyrinthine network of streets and hidden shortcuts became a valuable asset, a lifeline almost. 

Each light footfall, every strategic maneuver, was an act of preservation—an act that safeguarded their fragile sanity and ensured their survival. 

Behind the veil of darkness, they sought fleeting refuge behind refuse-filled cans, hulking cars, and discreet corners, finding temporary respite with every moan or foot shamble.

Glenn's vigilant eyes darted ceaselessly, their gaze sweeping from side to side, eternally vigilant for any hint of movement, any glimmer of danger. He tightened his grip on Daisy's trembling hand, the intensity of his grasp conveying a semblance of security even as fear gnawed at him and his frantic heartbeat sounded like a drum to his own ears. 

Their arduous journey had yet to lead them deep into the heart of the city, the uncharted territories that held both mystery and peril.

For the past couple of weeks, they had sought refuge within the walls of Glenn's cramped apartment, their survival reliant on meager rations of snacks, decaying produce, and whatever remnants they could scavenge from the abandoned neighboring dwellings.

However, with resources dwindling and the devastating aftermath of the recent bombing, the walls of their dilapidated brick sanctuary offered little saftey. Desperation propelled them forward, urging them to seek a safer haven amidst the desolation.

As they pressed onward, the previously vibrant blue sky surrendered to a somber cloak of murky gray, casting an ominous shadow over the city. The wind, carrying a faint scent of rain, rose in intensity, as if even nature itself mourned the tragic fate that had befallen the world and it's occupants.

With the worsening weather and the gradual descent of the sun, casting elongated, twisted shadows that danced through the broken cityscape, Glenn's focus sharpened, his fears swelling within him. 

He had hoped, perhaps against all odds, to stumble upon something, anything—a sign of civilization, a glimmer of hope.

There was meant to be a military-managed quarantine zone at the heart of Atlanta, a haven of safety within a ravaged world. Yet, as they ventured deeper into the city's core, they found only emptiness, a vacuum of existence. Not even the faintest crumbs of saftey remained.

Aware of the imminent dangers that awaited them, Glenn knew they had to find shelter soon. Nightfall alone was treacherous in this post-apocalyptic realm, but when coupled with the wrath of a thunderstorm, it transformed into a deadly amalgamation of chaos and peril.

"Daisy, we have to find somewhere safe," Glenn whisper-declared, his voice tinged with urgency and raw concern. He cast a worried glance at the young girl, her disheveled hair clinging to her dirt-streaked face, "can you help me do that?"

Fear gripped Daisy, her voice barely a whisper amid the distant rumblings of thunder and wind. "I'm scared, Glenn," she confessed, her words mingling with the tempestuous symphony of the approaching storm. "What if the storm makes more monsters come out?"

Normally, Daisy found solace in the embrace of storms—the gentle patter of rain, a source of comfort. The occasional crackle of thunder may have sparked a twinge of fear, rooted in her sensory issues and general aversion to loud noises, but storms usually made her feel...calm.

But today, every aspect of the rain failed to offer even a semblance of solace. The storm mirrored the turmoil that enveloped them, magnifying the sense of peril and uncertainty that clung to the air.