Outlive | Daryl Dixon ²

𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭

Yet, before Rick could finish his reassurance, Carl's glare silenced him. The boy's eyes blazed with resentment, a smoldering rebellion. Without another word, Carl took off back down the road, picking up his pace.

Astrid considered calling after him again but then thought better of it. Carl's blistering rage was born from the abrupt loss of their home and of their family—an emotion she herself shared. Yet, their priority, even if he did not recognize it, was staying together. In their state, they could not afford to lose each other.

The two adults began to trudge onward again. Astrid released a tired breath. "We're going to be okay?" She said softly.

Rick swallowed. "What?" He croaked. His throat was congested with blood.

"We're going to be okay," She reiterated, glancing at the man walking beside her. "That's what you were going to say, right?" She questioned. Rick's reluctant nod only deepened her frown. "Why didn't you say it to him?" She pressed.

Rick's parched lips grazed his words like they were bitter medicine. "Because I can't promise that," He confessed. "I can't tell him any more lies. I can't tell you any more lies."

Astrid fixed him with a searching look. "When have you been lying to me?"

"When I promised you that the Governor was dead, and we'd get to live safely in the prison. Look at us now. No shelter. No supplies. All three of us could be dead by—"

"That's not going to happen. We're going to find a place, like you said. We're going to find supplies. We're going to be okay."

Rick responded with a gruff, noncommittal sound as they continued walking. Each step they took hurt more than the last. The Lancaster woman's thoughts soon drifted back to the final moments at the prison, where she had watched Daryl vanish behind a horde of walkers. She had not seen him again. Doubt gnawed at her, but she had to cling to the belief that he was out there, that he was navigating the wilderness in search of her, just as she searched for him.

Astrid's thoughts shifted to little Bailey Stratton next, and more guilt settled upon her. She knew she should not have let the girl out of her sight. Bailey had not been seen on the getaway bus—so where else could she have possibly gone? Another cruel notion suddenly struck Astrid. Had Bailey, in her innocence, set out to find her, even as Astrid failed to reciprocate the search?

She shook her head. She could not dare to think like that right now.

After another grueling hour of their trek, the trio reached an interstate. In the distance, a run-down restaurant beckoned. Abandoned vehicles and discarded, scavenged remnants littered its narrow parking lot.

As they approached the decaying building, Astrid watched Rick and Carl draw their guns. Her face fell as she recognized her own sudden vulnerability. She lacked even a rudimentary weapon, not a knife to her name. She was utterly defenseless.

As they reached the entrance, Rick first steadied Astrid against the outside wall, then joined his son. The father and son cautiously swung the door open, their firearms at the ready, poised to fire at a moment's notice.

Once the threshold was deemed safe, Rick turned his attention to Carl. "Stay out here with Astrid, okay?" He instructed. "Keep watch."

"You stay with Astrid," Carl retorted defiantly. "You can barely stand. I'm not letting you go in there alone."

"Excuse me?" Rick demanded. His fatherly protectiveness emerged fiercely, determined to safeguard the only family he had left. He had already lost Judith and Lori, leaving him with only his son. Astrid understood the depth of his commitment to preventing Carl from meeting the same fate.