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↳ binding chords ↲
AFTER THE SUPPLY RUN INCIDENT, things changed in Alexandria. The streets were still, quieter than ever. Not many people ventured far from their homes after hearing what had happened, in fear that if they got close enough to the walls, they too would perish.
The citizens were scared, not only of those dangers which roamed outside. They were frightened by the new threat; the people they had brought into their homes with welcome arms. They hadn't realized how different each one was from another. Rick, in particular. He had beaten Pete Anderson to a pulp, and one night later, he shot the man in the head. Reggie; Deanna's husband had been stabbed through the neck with the sharp bladed katana which had belonged to the woman who had been brought through the gates along with Rick, and his vile group.
It didn't matter to the people of Alexandria that Pete had been the one bearing the blade, but only that the blade had belonged to Michonne. It frightened them, having others living within close proximity who were stripped to the bare bone, soulless — from their perspective. They belonged outside. Not here, with their families and small children.
Of course, when it came down to it, the Alexandrians were weak. Maybe even the weakest breed of them all. They wouldn't ever be able to do anything about it but silently judge, and routinely check their locks. Hanging drapes across their windows, afraid to even be seen by the group. After all, Deanna had declared their stay. All of them would continue to live in this place.
Here the streets lay, barren and empty. A town of ghosts, and lost souls. Not much hope was left for them anymore.
There was no hope here, in Alexandria. Not even for the group. A few of them had gone; just like that. Noah was dead. Torn apart by walkers, and left undead. No mercy for the boy. No mercy for any. Aiden was deceased, leaving Deanna incapable of pushing authority forward. She was unhinged. As for Tara, she had sustained a high dose of head trauma, but she had been awake for a while now, only left with a migraine which seemed to never dissipate.
As said before, there was no hope left in Alexandria. At least, not much for the unconscious girl who still occupied the infirmary, one of her arms cuffed against the bed rods. Her breathing had been short, choppy, and labored for a while now. With only Denise left to care for her, there was little knowledge on the severity levels of her injuries while she was still in a coma.
Two of the members had ventured out for stronger medicine, when she was brought in. Carl and Daryl. After a couple hours following their departure, they had returned with the kind of medicine the gravely injured girl would need. Presumably, it had saved her life for the time being.
Afterwards, only time could tell. Seconds, hours, days. The infirmary was much quieter now. People slowly lost hope that she would return. Visitors became scarce, for the fear of holding onto too much hope. How ultimately horrible was that? Before, you held onto hope for one you cared about. Now, it was like the matter was only a jinx. Falling stars never granted requests.
Carl Grimes still wished on shooting stars, though. He didn't like the reality of the matter, so he instead chose to ignore it. He visited almost everyday, sitting in that leather chair propped in the corner until nightfall. Sometimes, he just watched her sleep, for a peace of mind. When her breathing would become quiet, he would bring himself off the chair and place his ear near her mouth, staying still in place until he felt her soft breath exhale. Other times, he would talk. He told her about his life before. About school, and his mom. He pretended she would reply, and he would tell her even more. Every little quirk about himself, every detail. He hoped it reached her.
Today he was in his seat again, his fingers patting the leather as his eyes scanned past the window, catching a glimpse of Rick motioning him outside. He stood up, beginning to walk towards the door before hesitantly spinning around, and approaching Cyn's side. He was careful in brushing the back of his hand across her cold head, pushing a few strands of hair from her face, before placing his lips gently against her forehead.
"I'll be back." He told her in a whisper, as if she were actually listening. "Gotta go help Dad with some stuff today."
And with that, he walked through the door, closing it softly behind himself.
It sounded insane, but this was an insane world. They had to come for the dead, before the dead came for them. It was that simple. After finding a dried up quarry left with jagged rocks, rubble, and thousands of walkers below, a plan was set into stone. The trucks in which had been barricading the creatures had been slowly wearing away, spacing out as the days continued forward. It was the only reason Alexandria was still here. It would have been gone long ago if it weren't for the drop at the edge of the forest, leading into the pit of death. Now, it was slowly becoming more and more of a threat. The more dead who piled in, the less room. More walkers would make their way to the top, squishing themselves through the small space. If those trucks acting as barricades were to fall at some point, their home would certainly be wiped out. That was why Rick decided it would be best to lead some of them away, and redirect their path.
For the first time in his life, Carl didn't want to be included in the mission. He had told his dad he would stay inside the walls and watch after the girl, just in case. In case of what; he wasn't sure. He didn't like the thought of her waking up alone in the infirmary. Frankly, he didn't like the idea of leaving her at all. He was done with that. No more risks, no more playing pretend. Carl was always going to protect the ones he loved, no matter what. That was a promise. The gun on his hip proved so.
Instead, he decided to spend a couple minutes helping his father load up the trucks before the group of volunteers left for the dry-run towards the quarry. The plan was to simply map out a route away from Alexandria, and check how much longer the blockades could remain stable.
"Dad." He greeted, walking towards the truck Rick stood near.
Rick acknowledged his son while placing a bag into the truck bed. Once he closed the tailgate back up, he turned, slightly squinting the sun away. "You've been at the infirmary all day?"
Carl nodded, glancing to his side. Michonne walked towards them, Judith squirming in her arms.
"Are you sure you would rather stay here?" Rick asked the boy, resulting in his son to nod again as Judith was handed off to him. He found it rather odd to see him this set on staying behind, though he knew why.
Those two kids had been on the road a while with one another. He understood what it meant to care about ones who weren't truly blood. All of them were still family, biological or not. In the end, strands of DNA and last names had nothing to do with it. The bond that had formed between all twelve of the members didn't have to be formed over blood; but only that they would shed blood for each other. That was what surviving with others meant these days. Caring about someone deep enough was dangerous. Stupid, even. But, it was human. Just a human sacrifice, in this torn mankind. That was what one had to give up.
The girl had become a part of the family in all those months on the road. Each one of them came to accept her as one of their own. Carl Grimes, though; he spent all his time with her. When they had no place to go, every waking hour the boy and girl were practically tied to one another, like an invisible string was knotted on their pinkies, their ropes binding together. They were each other's home in a sense, whatever it meant.
"Yeah." Carl replied, situating his sister against his hip bone. "I'm sure."
Carl was fearful that if he left again, the string holding the two would wear down into a thin thread, leaving their chords snapping in half.
So, he stayed. He stayed, and he promised not to leave.
Although, when late afternoon finally arrived, chaos would spread throughout the community. Because, within those hours, something sounded from the heights above. It seemed to have been that the angels were playing their trumpets, prevailing judgement day had finally arrived once and for all. The echo was calling them forward, one by one.
Downfall was near.
▬ ▬ ▬
At the sound of a shrieking horn, my eyelids broke apart, a vision of darkness being replaced with bright colors which caused me to squint, blinking rapidly. A metallic taste was stuck on the tip of my tongue, traveling through my parched mouth, down my throat. My body was stiff, bones brittle.
With the continual echo, I attempted to lift my weakened arm beneath myself, the instant pullback causing me to turn my head. Around my reddened wrist, metal was bound, restraining me to the bed. This movement had caused a spickle of pain in my neck, and down my shoulders. It took form predominantly around my abdomen, resulting in me to look down, and lift my shirt with my free hand.
Underneath the layer of cotton, a tainted bandage was placed on my side, wrapped around both my stomach and back to keep it in place. Though the major wound was covered, I could still process the level of injury I had obtained. The skin around it was extremely tender, colored in shades of yellow, purple, black, and green. I winced as I brought a finger along the thick patch of gauze, lifting it up carefully. Within one glance, I turned away, trying to go back into my previous oblivion. Uneven stitches ran across my stomach, closing a large point of impact. In the exact same placement, I felt the rough stitching against my back. Something had gone all the way through.
Once again, I recognized the horns. Only, I had tuned them out for a couple seconds by now. As much as I wondered about them, my attention span was poor as of now. I guessed it was due to the bright orange bottle of pills near my bedside, the cap unscrewed. They were probably why I hadn't been feeling much pain, despite the harm done to my body.
The bedside. I was looking straight at a hook full of different keys. Bronze, silver, gold. Small, and large ones. Just sitting there, behind the bottle. I cautiously scooted myself as far as the restraints would allow me before extending an arm outwards. As I reached out, I grazed the hooked handle, though, before I was able to get a real hold on them, another wave of pain had washed over me. It rooted from my lower body, spreading like fire across my muscles towards the tips of my fingers. Laying down, my face scrunched in distress while letting out a groan. The horns seemed to only heighten in volume during those seconds. A deepened pound began to plant itself beneath my skull, driving my sight dizzy as I stretched my arm outwards to the key holder once again. This time, my fingers wrapped around the metal object. I brought the keys toward my body, carefully turning against my right side until the cuff was within reach.
It was when I finally had begun trying the first key in the bunch, when a sound came from behind me. Not the horns — but, a sort of screeching. This caused me to lean my head over my shoulder, and look for the source. I was in here alone. I had no knowledge of what was taking place outside. The horns didn't sound good, I knew that much. Though, once I recognized a figure standing against the window facing me, a deep sense of dread had found home in the weak heart of mine.
A man tilted his head at me, a letter "W'' scar seemingly carved into the skin above his brow bones. The scar wrinkled up as he made an odd expression. Almost like a smile. No, it was definitely a smile of some sorts. A sick, twisted grin. My eyes traveled downwards to the person he held lower against the window. She was a woman in her later years. I knew her. She lived in Alexandria. Only a few weeks earlier, she was making food for our group as a welcome. A trail of thick mucusy blood dragged down her lips, stringing onto her blouse. Her neck was slashed.
All the man did was stare, dragging his axe along the window. His hand holding her neck, then, letting go and letting me watch as she slid against the glass, dead eyes frozen in horror.
My mouth parted, my throat dryly letting out a whimper. I immediately fumbled with the keys, trying the second one in the lock. My hands shook as I gave it a twist, my control worsening once finding it was one again the wrong one. I looked back again, finding him to be in the exact same spot. He was watching, like there was no rush. He enjoyed it.
Then, I started wondering. Everyone else here, were they dead? Carl, Noah, Tara, Maggie? Glenn, or Rick, even Enid and Mikey? I couldn't even grasp what had happened to me; yet alone the others.
Once beginning to start with the fourth or fifth key, a deafening crackle sent vibrations through the room. The keys held in my free hand fell from my grasp, clattering against the hardwood floors. I turned away from the cuffs, to the window. The blade of the W's weapon had found its way through the frontal layer of glass. It created divots and cracks, worsening once he pulled the axe from the window. I attempted to reach down for the keys, but the overextension instantly made a simple task unbearable. Instead, I yanked my arm against the cuffs, trying anything desperately as a last resort.
The axe head plummeted into the window once more. This time, the glass did not hold. The material completely split apart, thousands of small glittering shards gravitating downwards. I tugged myself backwards with an immense amount of force while the man took the foot of the weapon, clearing glass from his entrance point. Once trying again to pull myself away, the metal dug against my pale skin while I brought myself back harshly. Except, I did not stop. Only when the polished pole released itself from the bedframe did my actions hinder. With this, I found myself against the floor — my cuffed arm grasping the metal pole strung on the other side of the lock as I tried crawling myself further.
Only, the W was much faster. When it came down to whomever shall win, It would always be the rabbit against the tortoise. Let's be real, the rabbit always won the races. No matter how slow and steady one could go, they could never outrun such an advantage as the W had received over me. In the end, he was the one to grab me, and flip me onto my back. The tortoise never won, and I knew it.
Locking himself between my kicking legs, he placed his knee on my stomach, resulting in a pained cry to escape my throat. His hand laced itself around my neck, fingers curling against my skin.
Lowering his head towards my ear, he whispered softly, "Sacrifice will always gain entry into the gates above."
'I don't believe in heaven', I wanted to say, but nothing except a hiss of air left my compressed vocal chords. I don't. I never have believed in it. Not even those darkest moments, when I knew death was close. It wasn't real. I don't believe in heaven. There was no use starting now.
As the oxygen from my lungs began burning profusely, my hand wrapped around the one he used to strangle me. I dug my nails into his hand, mustering whatever bit of fight left in me. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I tried finding the human inside of them. Something; anything that would show me humanity. Instead, they were simply flat and dull. Lifeless.
Suddenly, he was being thrown aside, the grip on me loosening. I twisted around, wheezing inwards while lifting myself upon my elbows. My breath came back in small shallow increments, leaving me inhaling roughly for more each intake. My hand softly wrapped around my neck as an instinct, provoking a deep cough to the surface of my throat. My other hand placed against my wound, compressing the injury slightly.
"You woke up." A grim voice spoke. I felt their presence as they knelt beside me. I fraily lifted my head, met with the face of a friend. Ron. "Thought you wouldn't."
I ran my hand continually along the sides of my throat, shock ridden. My blank stare must have proved so to him, too. He tilted his head at me slightly, studying my expression.
"Is he the only one?" I choked on my words quite literally as another cough wracked from my body.
Ron looked to me, then the man, and back at me. "No." He simply answered. "There's more. Lots more. A group got through the walls."
"People are dead, aren't they?" I asked lowly.
He placed his hands on top of his beanie. "Yeah. People are dead, Cyn."
"You — are you okay?" I questioned, without looking at him again.
"Are you?" He asked back. "Are any of us? I mean, God, you look like shit. Enid's off, again, and I haven't seen Mikey. Or, Carl."
I looked up, scanning the room. It was true, he'd come alone. My thoughts suddenly drifted to Carl. I lifted my elbows, giving myself enough power to go into a wobbly standing position. Instantly, I caught myself against the wall, sliding forward a bit.
"I've got to find Carl." I mumbled, continuing forward.
"Jesus." He remarked, pulling me back towards him. "You can't go out there. You can barely stand."
My body suddenly felt much heavier, dragging me down. My legs were the last limbs to finally give, leaving me to the ground. "Ron. Ron, we gotta." I spoke, trying to bring myself upwards but ultimately failing. "I need to find Carl."
He only shook his head in response. "You're on pain drugs and shit, alright? You can't start telling me you're thinking realistically right now." He held up the bottle of pills on the stand, tossing them to the side.
The bottle hit the ground, rolling towards the unconscious W man. Ron glared at him, exhaling once noting my expression. "We need to tie him up." He stopped while I tried to lift myself again, adding, "I'll do it on my own."
I crossed my hands across my stomach, curling my body inwards. Once Ron had begun dragging the W towards the medicine closet, I looked towards the infirmary bed. My shoes were neatly placed near the foot of the bed. The laces were loose in the loopholes, untied bits of string on the floor. I inspected my own feet, now realizing I only had socks left on my two bare feet. This caused a feeling of discomfort to bubble, resulting in me to push weight into my knees. Using my hands to guide me along the floor, I successfully reached them after a bit of struggle. I took the left shoe first, then the right. As I laced them up, Ron entered the main room once again.
"You were out for three whole days." He randomly spoke.
I turned at him. "Three?"
"You missed a lot." He nodded. His hands fumbled into his pockets anxiously. "My dad's dead. Rick, uh. . . Rick killed him."
My jaw twitched. "Pete? Pete's dead?"
He nodded. "And Reggie. Not to mention the two we lost on the run."
I finished lacing my shoes. "What do you mean?"
"Aiden died." He responded slowly.
The next words came like ice, freezing the entirety of my body over. Frostbite spread limb to limb; finger to finger. It drew me in like a breath, unwilling to release. The tension in my body only built furthermore leaving me frigid.
"So did Noah."
I held tightly onto the bed, my mouth forming into a straight line. I raised the back of my palm to my lips, covering the beginning of a downturn.
My best friend was dead, and I didn't even know until days later. He was supposed to be one of the ones who never left; who stayed forever. There was no soft way to say it — Noah was dead.
It may have just been the medication, but I felt as If I couldn't be sad. I couldn't really feel much anyways, apart from the tingling sparking in the crevices of my spine. Numb, was how I felt. I was getting used to the deaths which never stopped piling up. Noah was my friend, and I barely felt sorrow somehow.
Something about that was so unbelievably wrong.
I gulped softly, looking to the broken window from my spot on the ground. "I'm sorry about your Dad, Ron."
"Sorry about Noah." He said.
"Me too."
▬ ▬ ▬
Ron took a seat beside me after checking to make sure the front entrance was locked. The window was still shattered, but from the side of the bed we sat against, we were out of sight. He had leaned his back against the frame, copying my previous movements. For a while we stayed like this, complete silence dragging through the air.
When remaining quiet enough, I heard what was going on out there. Through our broken barrier, it wasn't hard to pick up on the shouts which came from a ways behind. Screams, cries, then nothing again. This action repeated for quite some time. There was nothing we could do about it besides listen.
Ever since the thought of Carl had come into my mind, his existence wouldn't leave. I had no way of knowing if he was alive, but I hoped on it. I wanted to see him again. I didn't want him to be dead. I needed him to be okay, for me.
I was brought away from my own destructive thoughts when a figure clouded the small blurred window near the side of the door. The knob rattled, metal gears twisting against the blockage of the lock. It sounded extremely weak. Ron and I made eye contact before he brought himself lower, dragging me along. He slid himself under the bed, then helped me do so. I reached a hand outwards and gripped the axe he'd forgotten. Instead of handing the weapon to him, I came to the conclusion we'd be safer with it in my possession.
Right then, the door caved in on itself. I held a hand against my mouth to silence my breathing. The axe stayed in my hand, my fingers tightening around its handle as a set of scuffed shoes appeared near the side table. I brought my eyelids closer together, noticing the droplets of unidentifiable blood on the soles. This was another W member, I was certain.
He neared the pill bottle at once, picking it up. Walking over to the opposing infirmary bed, we watched as he knelt down. I viewed the back of his head while it lowered to the ground, scanning under.
He knew someone was in here.
A soft clang resonated then. Not from himself, but the medicine closet. The other must have been awake. Ron hadn't hit the W hard enough with the rod to keep him down long enough. The two of us knew we'd die under here, being overpowered. It was strewn all over Ron's face.
Though, just as Ron twitched his head at the axe, a shout erupted from the nearby room. I ducked my head back down, only to watch as a reanimated W attacked his group member, sinking its teeth into his jugular. He'd had to have died from the previous head trauma before being placed in the closet by Ron. We were lucky it hadn't been us over there. My friend was emotionally weak; and I was close to immobile.
While this took place, the boy beside me shook my shoulder. He began crawling his legs out from underneath, leading me to follow. Once we had made it without drawing attention, he helped me closer to the window.
"We have to go." He told me.
I nodded, taking hold of the wall. After quickly checking the outside surroundings, he lifted me through. A second later, I watched as he hopped over, joining me along the near bushes. Their thick end-of-summer burst in green bloom provided a shield against our backs.
"I can't run." I told him, pressing my hand on my side again for relief of the returning pain. "I'm not going to be able to move more than a couple feet, without help."
"Then let's get you help." He told me, wrapping my arm around his shoulder.
Once standing up, most of my weight was brought onto him. We shuffled forward in the grassy patch for a meek few seconds until I had to take a break again. This time, he sat me up against a near tree. He leaned himself on the side, catching his breath and staying alert. My eyes felt weighted, my body even heavier. The adrenaline was burning through whatever I'd been on, for the pain. I could feel the immense discomfort of each nerve. The shooting stab of pain on my back, and the throbbing along my side.
As a W caught sight on Ron, he approached slowly. While the back of the tree hid my figure, it did not provide much protection for him. The W stepped forward, his shoe pressing down on a weak twig. The piece of wood snapped in half, the sound alerting Ron and I before he could advance on us.
I took the weapon from beside me, pulling it up as the attacker launched forward at Ron. The boy sprinted from him, just barley out of his grasp before a bullet whistled through the air, planting itself into the W. He fell with a shout, his body landing near the pavements beginning.
With weak knees popping as my back rose off the tree, I hunched forward, over myself. Without anything to hold onto, my pace was slowed greatly.
"Shit!" He cursed out loud, grabbing his shot leg.
Ron took a step back, revealing a boy rushing down the steps — a gun positioned in his arms.
I smiled, then. Despite the pain.
Carl. His finger stayed on the trigger as he approached the W, his attention locked on the man down. With the barrel pointed directly at his temple, he breathed out.
"Please, man, please. Please don't kill me man, please. Help me, my leg. "
Carl had a moment of hesitation, almost like he really didn't want to have to pull the trigger. Although, following the W launching at him, they fought between the gun for a moment. Once Carl had gained full control again, he wasted no time in putting a bullet between his forehead. The man fell backwards with a thud, dark blood oozing from the hole in his skull.
I limped forward, no longer paying mind to the dead W on the ground. All I could focus on was him.
"Carl?" I muttered, stopping once closer. I felt as if I couldn't walk myself any further without collapsing.
His eyes fell on me so undistracted, at the tone of my voice. Chaos was the new calm, a chord of pure violence playing note after note into the universe. This world we inhabited had become such a scary place. Something we'd never seen. It was filled with death, and everlasting fears. We had been placed in the middle, before truly knowing it had begun. But right now, his gaze in mine; this was peace.
He lowered his gun, approaching me. After he had placed his hands on my shoulders, looking me over like he wasn't sure if I was just a figment of his imagination or not, he embraced me. My arms dangled against my sides due to his tight grip. Once he finally breathed out, I was able to wiggle free, and wrap them around him, too.
'This was peace', I told myself. This was what we all yearn for.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
4,901 words • 9pm
shit. only. gets. worse. from. here
raaahhwhs this random girl saw me writing and joked saying i was writing on wattpad but little does she know...😏
also i didn't edit this past like the second chapter break, oops.
plz vote bc this took me literally two weeks or leave some opinions/literally any feedback of sorts!
sincerely yours,
nika.