Fighter ｡ The Walking Dead

𝘋𝘈𝘠𝘚 𝘎𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘉𝘠𝘌

A faint commotion starting in the center of camp drew my attention away from my picture and I looked over to see the adults gathering around Amy, a pretty blonde in her early twenties. She was kneeling in the dirt, her body set in front of a tree stump that held the CB radio that we gained from another group member, Shane Walsh. Before this all started he was a cop.

In the early days of the outbreak, the radio was constantly buzzing with news. We were able to gain an insight into what was happening around us, but as the days turned into weeks and things continued to grow worse, the radio got quieter until one day there was only silence. We were finally getting contact from another person and I wanted to be there to hear their message.

I rose to my feet rather hesitantly. The adults in the camp were always careful when it came to involving me and the other kids on the news affecting us. They wanted to keep us as sheltered as they possibly could and, though I've learned to understand their intentions over time, I found it pointless. We were children, yes, but we were aware of the situation around us. So approaching the adults for news made me reluctant.

A hand rested against my shoulder, through my shirt I could feel it's roughness and the calluses that had begun to form on it. I tilted my head up, eyes squinting against the sunlight to try to make out the face above mine. Shane stood tall, his body had become a barricade blocking the sun from hitting my face. He gave me a nod of his head, a gesture of reassurance, and began to guide me over to the rest of our group.

Shane, in some ways, was different from the rest of the adults in our group. He still tried his best to shelter the other kids and me but he also thought it would be safer if we had a better understanding of what was happening. We couldn't survive in this world blind and Shane understood and accepted this fact.

So, using as little details as he could, he would fill us in on what was going on, decisions the group was making, or plans that they were establishing. Whatever it was, he found a way to let us know in the best way he could. It was because of that, that in the early days of everything I admired the man.

The two of us walked together towards our huddled group. With each step we took, I noticed Shane would bounce the ax that he held in his hand. I had found it weird back then and couldn't understand why he had been doing it. Now I realize that it had been a sign of aggravation or nervousness. But if I had looked up at his face, those emotions would not have been present. Instead, he would appear stoic, his true emotions unable to seep through his set and determined expression. He was good at masking things.

"Come on, son, you know best how to work this thing."

Dale Horvath's eyes had landed on us the moment we stepped into the circle. He was the oldest member of our group and the wisest among us. It was thanks to him that we had found the secluded area we resided in, he had claimed that it used to serve as an old fishing spot for him.

Shane gave me a gentle nudge towards the older man and I stepped over in his direction. As I did so I could hear the thump of Shane's ax striking the stump and when I turned around he was kneeling next to Amy, the walkie was gripped in his hand and he began speaking in a professional manner, a manner that I hadn't heard from him. I remember thinking: 'this is what he must've been like as a cop.'

"Hello, Hello. Is the person who called still on the air?"

There was a moment of silence as we awaited some type of response.

None came.

"This is officer Shane Walsh broadcasting to person unknown. Please Respond."

We were met with nothing but static and it was clear that whoever had tried to contact us was no longer reachable. There could've been many reasons for that; they could've stepped out of our contact area; their radio could have died. But we all had one thought in mind. Whoever had tried to contact us may no longer be alive.