Everything that happened was now a constant memory that played on his mind. That very day on the battle field was the biggest part, but it most certainly wasn't the worst. The worst was the horrific pain that shot through his body at the contact of the katana and the medical attention he tried to give himself to save his own life. With no medical knowledge of any sort all he could go by was trial and error, and with that chance also came the risk of infection. Those consequences were known as they were common knowledge.
Philip was now laying unconscious on what used to be Hershel's cell bed. Dark blood was all over the floor, the bed, and Philip as it was left to dry. It didn't matter at this point as the prison was now unable to be used. With the fences down and a horde that had moved into the prison's field along with all of his people as well as any others that didn't make it were now dead turning the whole place into a graveyard. The only thing that the building was good for now, or at least for Philip, was keeping him safely locked in with an attempt at healing.
His body twitched every once in awhile. The pain still real and gripping as he breathed slow yet heavily. The memories still consuming him as the thoughts of the needle piercing through skin in a quick attempt to stop the bleeding as well as rubbing the area clean and bandaging up only made those thoughts even more unwelcome. His own groans of agony rose up above the massive moans of the dead from outside the cement walls. There was no telling if he was doing it right or if there was any organs damaged, but he knew that he had to try. After he was done there wasn't any will to be awake anymore as his mind was consumed by pain. Philip had laid down on the hard bed as he dropped every piece of spare supplies onto the bloody floor just to pass out as soon as he sat down. However long it had been now he wouldn't be able to tell you. It might have been days since it had all happened, but just like the fall of the prison it didn't matter.
However long it had been now had still been a miracle for Philip as for whatever time had passed the man was still breathing. It was low, but it was better than nothing. With a new feeling settling into his system he finally felt the sense of coming to. His mind was pulling back into the focus of reality as he began to try and move. It started with a twitch and twist of his right hand. Extending the fingers to stretch them out only to be repeated by the left. Then came testing the limits of stretching his legs. They were definitely sore, but most certainly not the worst thing he's ever felt. Now it was time to open his eye. It came in stages this time as it started from a very subtle flutter to quick blinks. With his vision now clearing up he was able to focus on the bunk above him.
Still with his mind slightly distant he tried his best to think about a single thing at a time, and everything but the pain. Philip tried to get himself to think about the day and what time it is, or getting himself off of the bed. Allowing his head to loll to the side he could swear that he could now hear things wandering about in the cell block, or at least close by. With a grunt he did his best to sit himself up only to press his back to the wall. Reaching his hand to grab the bed above him he used it to get himself back up onto his feet and to steady himself. Once that was down he felt a cold chill run down his spine as his knees wobbled slightly. He knew that he needed some food and water, but as he shuffled outside of the cell he noticed that something had changed.
Items from the cell block seemed to either have moved or changed their positions. Bags were missing and the abundance of food, water, some clothes, and what was left of the medical supplies seemed to be gone. Wrapping one arm around his midsection he used his free hand to press up against the wall to hold his balance. Wandering around the bottom level there were signs of those that used to live there, but all of the necessities were gone. This sent off the alarm that someone had either made their way back into the prison and took off, or someone was still inside it and made their leave. Feeling a wave of dizziness come over him he paused in his steps as he waited for the moment to pass. Once it did he ascended the metal stairs to see the same thing from the cells above. Glancing over toward the barred windows he could faintly see the sight of the prison yard. It was crowded with the dead as they stumbled around dumbly while bumping into one another. Everything that was there was probably devoured and dead by now.
Swallowing dryly he went back down the steps before going back to the cell to round up his things. The sooner he got out of there the better it would be for him. Pulling back on his bloodstained coat he made sure that his gun was loaded before grabbing whatever materials he could in the medical bag, which was now surprisingly empty. Whoever was in the prison that took everything must've saw him since they took the remaining supplies from the bag and either assumed he was dead or left him for dead.
Stuffing a small pillow, a blanket, and a jacket that he found that just happened to be his size into the bag he went right to the cell block's door. Glancing through the bars to see nothing he pried it open as it squeaked loudly on its hinges. Pushing it open as he coughed now the aching pain that ran through him stopped him dead in his tracks for a moment. Breathing heavily as it passed he began to walk once again. Philip knew that his best bet was for the back of the prison as the view of the front of the prison from C block looked rather crowded, but the only other problem that he would have to face was not knowing how crowded the halls were. He had no flashlight, and if he could find one he could only assume that whoever came back into the building had taken them along with all of the batteries. Getting to the next door he was about to look through the bars once more when a decayed hand reached through causing the man to stumble back.
Almost loosing his footing he had to steady himself quickly before pulling out his knife. Grabbing the dead arm he reached over to plunge the knife in its head. A wet cracking sound was made as it entered the skull before he let the body drop to the ground with a thud. Cringing at the noise he could only hope that the sound didn't attract any of its friends. Staying silent for a moment he waited for any signs of approaching dead before pulling open the door. Looking to his left and right he decided to head for the back of the prison now. It may have not been his best bet, but at the moment it was his best option.
Walking carefully down the halls the only sounds he could hear was his own breathing, every footstep he took, and the distant feral growling of the dead. With his fingers laced tightly around his knife he remained alert and cautious. It was the only thing he could do as he blindly stumbled down the dark walkways. Matters were then made worse as he came up to an intersection. It broke off into left and right halves now as well as a straightaway. Philip was clueless about getting out of the building which caused it to be a guess and check. Letting out a sigh an immediate growl sounded to his blinded right side. With a gasp he turned on his heel before lifting up his knife to jam it into the next skull. The sound as the biters weren't to far off from his own location now began to ring in his ears. Feeling his jaw tighten he pulled the knife free before making a left as he dragged along the body. He could only hope that the body would cover his scent now as he did his best to hurry down the hall.
The process continued with him putting down any biter that he came across, and sometimes there would be three or four at a time. It only got harder on him as his body was still too weak and sore to fight them all. Dropping the limp body that he had been carrying around now for what felt like hours he pressed his back up into a corner before collapsing onto his backside. Heavy breaths continued to be taken as he listened carefully. The drone of the dead never ceased, but now there was something new. It was the sound of bugs out in the woods. This was familiar especially after all of the times he spent outside as a kid and even in the apocalypse. Feeling a faint smile hinting at the corners of his lips he hauled himself up off of the ground before finishing his trek to the closest door.
Now it was time to hope that whatever was on the other side wasn't to much to handle. Pulling out his knife and positioning his hands into a ready position with his gun now being held above his knife he shoved open the door. An automatic reaction from the dead standing by with their teeth exposed caused Philip to fire his first shot into the cranium not to far from him. As soon as he fired he watched the thing collapse before making a dash for an opening. He hadn't made it to the back, but instead he had managed to find his way out from the side. The dead were piling up quickly and his dash was slowing as more pain took over. With more shots fired to clear a path he ran in the direction that he knew the bus had went in. It was his best shot. In fact it was his only shot.
Running as fast as he could manage the sound of the dead worked together like a chorus. All of them had been alerted, and now his best option was to keep running. It might not have been in his body's best interest, but for his survival it was.
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It was basic instinct now. The need to keep on running to keep yourself alive and safe whether it was by foot or even by a vehicle. That's exactly what Philip did now. He had ran for hours on his feet. His body aching as if every fiber of his being was on fire. Coming across a vehicle then made things a bit easier, but it wasn't much luck as it was practically running on empty only to get him off for another hour. With a raspy huff he pressed his forehead to the steering wheel just moments after the truck sputtered and died as it ran out of fumes. There was the option of trying to siphon gas from other vehicles, but he knew it would only waste more of his time and energy to find any.
Resting his head for another few minutes before climbing out of the truck he shut the door behind himself as he headed slowly for the forest. It wasn't entirely quiet, but it was more peaceful than most things. Leaves and twigs making a satisfying crunch beneath his work boots as he headed off in a random direction. Even more hours had passed as the sun was beginning to set. The darkness settling in as he continued forward, but even in the dim lighting he recognized a railroad track before subconsciously following along it. Philip didn't know where it led or why he was even following it, but for now it sounded like the most logical reason to find a place to camp out for the night. But even as the darkness now surrounded him he had come across nothing of use to him.
Letting out an exhausted sigh he only pushed himself further along the railroad up until the moon was at its highest peak in the sky. Just about to give up he set his gaze now on a train car settled right on the rails. Now with heavier breaths he forced his tired legs into a jog to come to a stop directly in front of the piece right before falling over. Quickly placing his hand onto the handle he shoved the sliding door open before quickly glancing around. Nothing. It was completely empty and a safe spot to stop. Climbing in and shutting the door behind him as now the only thing he could see was nothing. Bringing himself over to the corner he sat down to lean back. With his eye shutting once more he was out before he could even attempt a blink.
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As dawn broke Philip found himself lying awake on the cold metal floor of the boxcar. His body in agony as it was still in the process of healing, but what made it worse was the cold causing his body to spasm and the dried blood on his clothes causing the fabric to be stiff on his skin. With a groan as he moved himself upright into a sitting position he ran clammy hands over his face and through his filthy graying brown hair. As much as he wished that he could say it was a good sleep it was far from, and now he'd have to go through the rest of the day hoping for a better night when it arrived once again.
Using his hands to guide him towards the wall he slowly rose back up onto his feet before carefully making his way over to the sliding door. With numb hands he did his best to feel for the handle of the door just before yanking it open. The sunlight filtered in the boxcar the wider he opened it until it was blinding his good eye. Rubbing at his eye he then blinked a few times to adjust just before climbing out of the metal box. As he stepped down his feet crunched on the gravel that had settled around the train tracks. Taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air that only let on that fall was getting closer his eye trailed around the scenery. The thick trees not to far away from where he stood only held the sounds of bugs. It was rather surprising that it was so quiet, but at the same time Philip welcomed it more than anything as it meant he could be in peace even if it was just for a few minutes.
Stretching out his limbs as he let out a slight grunt from how sore he was something white caught his attention from the corner of his eye causing him to turn towards it. Sure, it could just be nothing as trash had made its way all over to various locations, but there was something familiar about that white cloth that sat just on top of the tracks. For a moment the former Governor just stared at it as if it was going to change, and when nothing happened he slowly made his way over to it. Bending down to get a better look at the filthy thing it was confirmed that it was in fact not just any cloth. It was gauze that had been worn and seen better days. Now as he reached out a hand to pick it up he ran his thumb gently over it trying to remember where he exactly saw this.
How silly it may seem to wonder about something so insignificant, but shaking the thoughts weren't an option for Philip. Running his mind backwards, to the time of the prison, he remembered the gauze that he had used on himself. But of course that wasn't it as he knew he was still wearing his. Pushing his thoughts further back at the realization he knew that he had it. Eye widening and his breath catching in his throat for just a moment the memory of Rick throwing punches flashed into his mind. There was no mistaking it now. Moving his gaze down the railroad tracks only signaled that Rick had followed them. There was a chance that he was wrong, but it only seemed more natural to follow a direct path rather than wander around aimlessly when you were looking for somewhere more permanent to stay again.
With a dry swallow he shifted his focus back to the boxcar in front of him now getting a better view of it in the light. His eye now narrowing at the sight. A sign was hung on the boxcar, and a rather large one at that. Terminus. Some sort of safe haven that stood where he had contemplated moving that camp that Martinez had to. Right into the heart of Macon, Georgia was the location and who knew what this place held in store for any survivor. Philip may not have known what this group of people had or what they did, or if they were even still alive, but something in him pulled at him to go and find Rick's group. The anger was still there for that very day, but that's not what drove him now.
What drove him to this decision was something familiar. Maybe it was revenge that he still sought out for him, but even the piece of him that normally went for that felt something different. Whether that feeling would last or not Philip started down the railroad tracks with a new purpose to his step. The pain still surging through his body was numbing now as his body shook and still that was the least of his worries as he briskly moved down the tracks only focused on getting to his destination.
This process would take hours or even days depending on how well he could take the travel with the state he was in, but regardless he was going to get there one way or another. Even the biters were something he either tried to avoid or took down as best as he could. Some of the dead being a bit harder to put down than others, but Philip continued to push on the best that he could.
It had taken the majority of the day to reach Terminus, and when he finally did there was no mistaking the loud growls of the dead not to far off in the distance. Luckily for Philip at this point they were very far off, but they were still slowly approaching. Making his way around the fences of Terminus the feeling that he got made the hairs on his arms stand up. Despite how friendly they all tried to make it seem something still wasn't right. Obviously there were still groups that welcomed other survivors in, just like Woodbury had, but their system was a little disconcerting. It was rather quiet and the smell of a grill in use filled his nostrils, but there was more than that. Though only in that moment he couldn't place it.
Keeping himself on guard he wandered up towards the gates that said to lower your weapons only making him even more distrusting of the sanctuary. Deciding not to listen to the sign there was no missing the flowers that they used to cheer up the place. Bright sunflowers led up to the unlocked gate causing Philip's stomach to flip. There was something very off about the place, but if he was going to find Rick than this was necessary.
Pushing his way passed the gate he followed the pathway up until he saw someone standing right over a grill cooking various meats. As much as he felt off about the whole thing it had been days since he'd eaten a proper meal. Shaking his head slightly to stop the distraction from breaking his focus he continued to walk forward up until he was a few feet away from the grill.
A woman, in the range of late forties to early sixties, stood at the grill tending to the meat. At first nothing was done up until Philip cleared his throat to catch her attention. The woman's gaze immediately turning away from the mysterious meat and right at Philip.
"Oh!" Now she shuffled her way around the appliance so the gap between them was even smaller. "Looks like you've been on the road for awhile." The smile on her face was friendly, but the way she talked sounded all to routine. Like a practiced line that one would say to those handing out programs and telling someone to enjoy just as they entered the theater.
"I have." Philip's voice was a dry monotone as he watched the stranger.
"I'm Mary. Welcome to Terminus."