[ xxx. a good man ]
november 13th, 2010
➸➸➸
ASTRID LANCASTER FOUGHT DESPERATELY to free herself from the wave of walkers that spilled from the shattered window. With a surge of adrenaline, Rick leaped into action above her, driving his knife into a walker's skull, only to be dragged back down by its deadened weight.
Pandemonium reigned as Shane vanished from sight, and Rick struggled, pinned beneath decaying flesh, unable to move. Astrid suddenly found herself alone, unprotected. Gasping for breath, she clambered to her feet.
Fortune smiled upon her, as Shane's reckless escape drew the attention of most of the walkers, diverting them from her path. Her head pounding with panic, Astrid unsheathed her machete from her belt. With swift, precise strikes, she severed the head of one straggling walker, then used the body as a shield, sending others from the undead pack tumbling to the ground.
Then, sparing one last, terrified glance at Rick, still trapped amidst the ravenous mob, Astrid pivoted and ran. The car beyond the compound, her only sanctuary, beckoned. She slid across the hood of a nearby vehicle, her movements a blend of grace and desperation, narrowly evading the snapping jaws of the undead that chased her.
But she quickly realized she was not moving fast enough. With a guttural growl of frustration, Astrid spun back around, facing the relentless onslaught. She defied her instincts and dropped to the ground, sliding beneath the safety of a nearby vehicle. The world around her melted into a haze of snarls and shuffling feet. The scent of decay filled her nostrils, and the ground trembled as the walkers closed in.
It was a calculated gamble. But a glimmer of hope emerged. Astrid's heart pounded against her ribcage as her eyes locked onto a figure dashing toward her through the sea of monstrosities. It was Rick, his face a mask of bloodlust, his revolver poised for battle. Three walkers lurched toward him, driven by insatiable hunger, and he met their advance with gunfire. Two of them fell against him—and their unexpected collapse weighed the sheriff down, leaving him at the mercy of the final walker.
Without a second thought, Astrid surged back into action. She hauled herself from the shelter of the vehicle's undercarriage, and in an audacious display of strength, she seized the walker by its sinewy shoulders, wrenching it away from Rick's prone form. The air filled with powerful growls and a shower of splintered bones as Astrid hurled the creature to the ground. A primal roar echoed in her ears as she brought her booted heel crashing down upon its skull, over and over again, until the grisly execution was silenced and her jeans were splattered with blood.
As Rick clawed his way from the mound of corpses, Astrid extended a steadying hand and pulled him to his feet. "You alright?" He asked her.
Chest heaving, Astrid leaned on her knees, trying to regain her breath. With unwavering resolve, she met the sheriff's gaze and nodded. "I'm fine," She answered. "Where's Shane?"
Rick shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," He admitted, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
Without hesitation, Astrid fell in step behind him as they navigated the labyrinth of abandoned vehicles. But a movement caught her eye, a flicker of life amidst the stillness. At first, she mistook it for another walker, but a gut-wrenching realization dawned upon her—it was Randall. He had managed to escape his bonds and slip through the clutches of Shane's wrath.
Rick's hand tightened around his gun. Finger still far from the trigger, his aim settled on the unexpected intruder. Realizing he had been caught in the crosshairs, Randall gasped, his eyes widening in terror. "Holy shit!" He exclaimed.
Randall attempted to flee, but his injured leg betrayed him as he frantically limped. Rick took this knowledge to his advantage and pounced, his tackle driving Randall to the ground. The air was thick with menace as Rick's voice dripped with authority, his question a growl. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Randall's voice trembled with fear. "What did you expect me to do?" He shot back. "Please, just let me go! That's what you came here for. I'm not going to tell anyone anything!"
Astrid's patience wore thin as she stood nearby, her arms crossed. "Just shut up," She snapped.
Abruptly, more movement to her left caught Astrid's attention again as the sound of several distant growls sliced through the standoff like a chilling warning. Her green gaze shifted, revealing a scene of impending doom—a looming yellow school bus, besieged by walkers pounding on its doors and windows. Within its confines, Shane Walsh fought a losing battle for safety.
"What? You want to stay here?" Randall asked, nearly taunting in his incredulousness. "You want to help the guy who just tried to bash your head in? There's at least a dozen roamers over there. You think you can take them on? They don't see us. We can get out of here!"
Rick's internal struggle played out on his face, torn between loyalty to his friend—and facing the cruel reality that his friend had just tried to kill him. Astrid exchanged a quick glance with Randall before they turned to Rick. The sheriff's sigh resonated with resignation as he shoved Randall forward, a silent command to proceed. "Let's go," He declared, a decision etched with a very heavy cost.
Astrid recognized this almost instantly. Her shock was palpable on her bloodied features as she turned to Rick, a good man. "Rick, what're you doing?" She demanded, fearful in the face of such reckless abandonment on his part. "You're seriously going to leave him behind?"
Rick's response was a cold stare. "We're going," He stated with finality, an affirmation that brooked no further argument. "Come on."
Rick and Randall bolted away, their figures shrinking into the distance. Astrid, suddenly torn, remained rooted in place. An agonizing hesitation gripped her; uncertainty battled her desire for vengeance, for closure. Across the compound, Shane's gaze found hers through the bus's windshield, his black eyes wide with alarm—and an unspoken plea for her to help him.
But Astrid Lancaster would not help him.
With a strained heart, she tore her gaze away from the overwhelmed school bus. She followed after Rick's retreating form, hoping that she was not too late and that she would not be left behind herself.
Astrid rounded a corner of a nearby building, her breath ragged as she caught up to Rick. He stood before a pair of fallen walkers, their police uniforms a haunting echo of the past he once shared with Shane. Astrid stared at the back of Rick's head, her thoughts a whirlwind of compassion and moral conflict. Her voice, soft and tinged with a deep ache, broke the silence. "I don't think we should leave him," She murmured, her words a fragile whisper. "At least not like this. No one deserves to die trapped and torn apart. Not even a man like him."
Rick's eventual agreement was a reluctant nod. "I know," He muttered. Then he straightened. "We need to get the car."
The trio pressed on to the exit. Randall claimed the driver's seat of the SUV, Rick the passenger's, leaving Astrid to occupy the rear. Rick's instructions guided Randall's actions, and Astrid's grip tightened around her gun as she rolled down the back window. The car screeched forward, back into the overrun compound, now driving toward the besieged school bus.
Rick leaned out his window with his revolver raised. The cracks of gunfire sliced through the air like a war cry. "Shane! Go for the back door!" He ordered.
Astrid's finger found the trigger, her shots ringing out in tandem with Shane's sudden and desperate movement toward the rear of the bus. The backdoor swung open, and he hurled himself through Astrid's window, landing beside her in the backseat. He inhaled deeply, a gasp of life amidst the suffocating tension. Astrid scooted as far away from the man as she was able.
Randall put the car in reverse, the farm now beckoning in the faraway distance. As they sped out of the compound, the teenager's exultant laughter punctuated, a declaration of survival in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. "Yeah! Hell yeah!" He shouted triumphantly as he smacked the steering wheel. "Did y'all see that?! You see what we did?!"
But Rick's voice, unyielding and sharp, reined the young boy in. "Just keep driving!" He barked.
Realizing he was still an active captive, Randall's jubilant joy rapidly waned, muted by the overall seriousness of the situation. Silence fell over the vehicle, each of them breathing deeply in an attempt to reclaim composure. Astrid brushed aside a strand of hair, her eyes sweeping over the faces of her companions, each bearing the weight of the harrowing day. The car continued onward.
As the road stretched ahead, Rick soon ordered Randall to stop the car, an ominous prelude to impending action. The SUV shuddered to a halt on the side of the open road, and the air grew thick with anticipation. It was time to bind their captive once again, to confine Randall to the shadows of the trunk that had become his cage.
Astrid watched as Shane and Rick moved with practiced efficiency, their hands deftly securing Randall's fate. Rick's eyes met hers, a shared understanding of the burden they all carried now by choosing to keep the boy alive for another day.
Leaning against the car, Astrid stood as a silent observer until the two men returned from the back of the vehicle, the trunk locked behind them. The three of them were silent as they all stared out into the forest on the opposite side of the road.
"Peaceful, isn't it?" Astrid mused, her gaze lifted to the sky, where the sun had begun to dip behind the trees in search of a new dawn, as if indifferent to the horrors that orbited below. "It's almost like you wouldn't know the dead were roaming the earth and we had a kid hostage locked in our trunk."
"Never thought you'd see something like that in your life?" Shane asked her. The blood on his nose from her own hit had long since dried. Astrid did not regret it.
She shook her head. "Never," She murmured in response.
On her other side, Rick exhaled slowly. He turned to Shane, his gaze weary. "If you want to kill me, you're going to have to do better than a wrench," He said darkly. "Now, I'm probably going have to kill that boy. But I am going to think about it for a night."
Astrid's throat tightened at her leader's words. Was that truly what it would come down to?
"He's just a kid," She said, voice wavering.
"A kid that tried to kill you," Shane replied sharply. He turned to Astrid—ignoring Rick—and his gaze held such an intensity that it demanded attention. "He'll try to kill someone else back at the farm. That's why we need to protect them. You know that, Astrid. It's up to us."
Rick's admonishing glare went unnoticed by Shane as the latter's focus remained unwaveringly fixed on Astrid. As Shane's gaze bore into hers, his unyielding determination almost challenging her to understand, she struggled to grapple with the notion that they might have to kill a child to ensure their own survival. Astrid's mind raced. Could she truly embrace this path, become an agent of such violence to protect those she cared for? Would she be able to live with the echoes of that act seared into her conscience?
Astrid's lips parted, yet no words emerged from her. Instead, Rick spoke to Shane, cold and angry. "I can protect my family," He said. "Because that is my wife. That is my son. That is my unborn child." A hostile moment passed between the two men. "If you're going to be with us, Shane, you have got to follow my lead, you have got to trust me . . . It's time for you to come back."
Rick extended Shane's gun, a fragile gesture of peace. Slowly, Shane took his weapon back. The exchange between the two men held a weight beyond the tangible, a silent understanding that Astrid could sense but not fully grasp. What had Shane done? Why did Rick now speak to him as if he were in the midst of stealing his own family? Suddenly, Astrid felt like she was missing a rather large piece of this picture of their past—and perhaps figured it was best she remained in the dark.
After all, they could only go forward now.
Astrid reached up. As her fingers clung to both men's shoulders, her touch was a grounding force, and her voice a quiet decree. "Let's keep moving," She decided.
Rick and Shane acknowledged her command with solemn nods, retreating into the sanctuary of the car. However, Astrid hesitated, lingering a moment longer outside the vehicle. Her gaze pierced through the window, locking onto Randall's confined form within the trunk. The sight stirred a deeper conflict within herself. Astrid's chest tightened as she drew in a steadying breath.
The precipice they had teetered upon—nearly leaving Shane behind—loomed like a dark abyss before her. The harrowing possibility that she, too, had nearly surrendered to that evil chasm sent a shiver of realization down her spine. Such thoughts were inconceivable in the world she had once known, a life untouched by the brutality that an apocalypse demanded.
In the realm of another time, she would have deemed such thoughts monstrous, alien to the compass of her humanity. To entertain the idea of leaving a fellow human being—a friend—for dead was one that would have been banished as unthinkable. But the world had altered violently and irreparably, and in the wake of that horrific shifting, Astrid felt herself becoming something she scarcely recognized.
This apocalyptic world, a realm of danger and desperation, was tempering her spirit, forging a new identity out of the remnants of her former self. The warmth of Astrid's old life was giving way to a frostier persona, a cold acceptance of the unsparing rules that governed their lives now. She had tasted the acrid tang of death now, and she was prepared to do so again, if the circumstances demanded it.
The girl who once fretted over failing clinicals was now buried six feet deep. Her concerns, her aspirations—they had been replaced by a grittier woman, shaped by circumstances beyond her control. That former version of Astrid Lancaster was gone—dead. And there would be no funeral for her.
And so, without hesitation or falter, Astrid climbed back into the car, and through the windows, she watched as the trees streaked by like fleeting memories, as they barreled on towards home.
~~~~~~~~~~