[ xli. the alexandria safe zone ]
august 3rd, 2012
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THE WALK BACK FROM the overrun warehouse to the highway, where promised vehicles awaited, was quiet. The dry, afternoon air periodically broken only by the distant hum of Aaron—Daryl's companion—and Morgan's low conversation drifting ahead. Astrid and her hunter trailed silently them, their hands interlocked.
Astrid could feel Daryl's gaze, and she steeled herself to meet his eyes. The reality struck her again like a brash gust of wind. This was not a dream. He was here, beside her, flesh and blood.
A smile cracked across Astrid's face as their eyes locked. "What's got your attention?" She wondered.
"You," He replied easily. "Never thought I'd lay eyes on you again."
Astrid's smile faltered then. There was still so much unknown that she dared not ignore. She needed answers from her time in the dark, regardless of how much it might hurt her to hear them. "What happened, Daryl?" She asked. "I remember Grady . . . The deal, the exchange . . . Then . . . nothing."
A shadow swept across her hunter's face, a curtain falling over his eyes as if he were reliving a nightmare. She hated to be the one forcing him there. But then, with a deep breath, he whispered:
"You died."
Confusion carved deep lines into Astrid's brow, her mind struggling to reconcile. Before she could grasp the shattered pieces, Daryl continued, "We got you and Beth out, but Dawn wanted Noah after," He said. "You stood your ground. You stabbed her, too. So, she . . . she shot you in the head. I . . . I took her out before you even hit the ground."
The memory suddenly rippled through the Lancaster women. The sensation of scissors in her hands, the white-hot anger that had consumed her. She could feel her fists automatically clenching as they walked, the raw fury of that moment still buried deep within her.
She knew instantly that Daryl was not lying, nor evading any details of the day she had 'died'. His eyes held an honesty that cut through her soul. Still, the outcome was a dagger to her heart. But in a twisted way, it made sense, too. If she harbored such venomous hatred, she would have no hesitations about striking down whatever stood in her way. She might have been more surprised to hear she had not stabbed the policewoman.
Astrid released a breath she had not realized she had been holding. "Well, at least we managed to save Beth," She sufficed, attempting to diffuse their conversation. It was clear that Daryl did not want to talk about the passing weeks any more than she did. "No matter how long it took," She added.
At her comment, Daryl appeared to grow squeamish. He shook his head at her softly. "I wish I could say it was worth it," He murmured. "We lost her two weeks after we thought we'd lost you. And Tyreese, a week after that."
Astrid stopped walking. She closed her eyes, reeling from the sudden barrage of devastating news, each death landing like a gut-wrenching blow. "How?" She managed to speak.
"Fire," Daryl explained. "Beth was trapped when the buildin' collapsed. And Tyreese . . . it was a walker bite. We cut the arm, but the blood loss . . . He didn't make it."
Astrid felt sick. The losses pushed down upon her. Two of her friends, gone. Just like that. She would never get to say goodbye or thank them. After all, Tyreese had kept her Bailey alive. And Beth—Beth, the young, brave girl she had risked everything for, had ultimately slipped from her grasp. She had saved her, only to lose her in the end. It was a cruel knife that twisted her insides.
"And the others?" Astrid choked out, her voice trembling with an underlying fear. "Rick? Michonne? Bailey?"
"Bailey's okay," Daryl reassured. "I've been tryin' to look after her. Rick and the rest, they're holdin' up, too. Healing's been slow, some more than others, but Alexandria's been good for 'em."
Alexandria. A supposed safe zone that had spared dozens from the abyss of the world's total annihilation. Aaron's fragmented descriptions had barely scratched the surface, he claimed, leaving her with mere glimpses of a walled-in community. As she had looked upon the grainy images, her thoughts had briefly drifted to the prison, but Daryl's reassurances painted a different picture—a new haven that dwarfed their former home.
It's been good for them.
Astrid had no doubt. Still, the prospect of encountering strangers, making new friends and allies all over again, prickled at her.
Eventually, the pair began to walk again. Astrid stuffed her free hand into her pocket. "Just when they've settled in, here I am to stir things up again," She huffed. Her humor was a fragile facade masking her deepening anxiety. Internally, she was nervous. How would her return from the dead be received? Would her group recoil as Daryl had? Or would they embrace her with open arms?
Daryl's thumb traced comforting circles over Astrid's knuckles. "It'll be fine," He assured.
"What if they think I'm a ghost?" She questioned. "What if they don't believe I'm real?"
"I've got you," He promised softly. "I'll vouch. But it won't be hard to convince 'em."
Astrid sighed heavily, nearly unconvinced, her words failing her. But the imminent distraction of their arrival spared her further contemplation. Breaking through the trees, they stepped up onto a crumbling interstate road where a motorcycle and a car awaited them.
Daryl's hand slipped from hers as he walked towards the bike, prompting an incredulous laugh to escape her lips. "This is yours?" Astrid gasped.
"Yeah. Believe it or not." Daryl chuckled. "Got it at the safe zone when I became a recruiter."
A glance to the side revealed Aaron and Morgan still engrossed in their own discussion by the car. Astrid attention returned to her hunter, arms folded over her chest. "So, they actually assign jobs there?" She inquired.
Daryl nodded and began to explain the roles within Alexandria's fold. "Abraham's on construction, Rick and Michonne are the town's watch, and Glenn's a scout—"
"What about Maggie? Carl?"
"Maggie works closely with Deanna, the woman in charge. And Carl's still too young for a real position. But he helps out when he can."
Astrid's fingers traced the motorcycle's handlebars absentmindedly. She had more or less thrown those names out, just to ensure they were still alive. That was all that truly mattered to her. "Any guesses on what they'll assign me?" She mused.
"Not sure. You're a damn wildcard, even to me sometimes," Daryl confessed. "Guess you'll find out in the interview. It's shitty—but it's the way things go."
The Lancaster woman chewed on the inside of her cheek, her thoughts still scattered. She hated not knowing what she would be getting into. Soon, however, a deep voice to her right jolted her from her reverie. She turned to see Morgan settled in the car's passenger seat, with Aaron poised to join him in the driver's. "Ready to head back?" The latter politely called.
"You lead the way."
As Aaron ignited the car's engine, Astrid settled behind Daryl on the motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his torso. Daryl's touch slid to her thighs, drawing her closer. "You ready?" He murmured.
Astrid's gaze swept over the trees that had sheltered her for weeks. Feeling the outline of the map still safely tucked away in her pocket, a faint smile curved her lips. A mere piece of paper and grit had been her compass home. Nuzzling into Daryl's back, she inhaled deeply. "Ready," She affirmed.
One of Daryl's hands slipped from her body and went to rev the motorcycle, and within moments, they were speeding after Aaron's car. The wind whipped Astrid's hair, adrenaline spiking through her veins with every mile they devoured. She could not even remember the last time she had ridden on a motorcycle with Daryl, and how she had missed the thrill of it.
Their long ride moved quickly, Daryl intent on guiding them home as the sky darkened, the moon ascending overhead. The cold eventually began to nip at her skin, but it was not just the chill unsettling Astrid now. Nervousness persisted and coiled at her core because, in the nearing distance, a celestial glow had begun to chip away the shadows, illuminating a colossal barricade rising ahead.
As they drew closer, Astrid's realization struck with staggering force—this was not just a wall; it was a labyrinth of defenses enveloping a sprawling neighborhood. Aaron's car halted, and Daryl brought his motorcycle to a stop beside it. Astrid's jaw slackened in awe. This was the Alexandria Safe Zone.
Moments later, a large set of gates encircling the main wall unfurled, granting passage. A gasp escaped Astrid as she beheld an actual neighborhood, quite literally untouched by the ravages of the outside world. Daryl pressed lightly on the gas and proceeded to lead them further down the ordinary avenue, the gates sealing behind them.
Eventually, Daryl killed the motorcycle's engine entirely, plunging them into a silence shrouding the streets and towering houses. It was so quiet. Too quiet. Astrid's heart somersaulted with apprehension. Had catastrophe befallen this perfect place, and left an empty skeleton in its wake? Where were the people? Astrid's mind spiraled. But then she forced herself to calm down again. She could not always assume the worst. Besides—the still-composed demeanor of Daryl and Aaron dissuaded her from other awful thoughts.
Climbing from the bike, Daryl extended his hand, and Astrid clutched it tightly as he guided her off. Now also parked, Aaron and Morgan approached them. "Should we take them to Deanna?" The former proposed.
"Yeah," Daryl confirmed. He glanced at Astrid. "Then I'll take you to the others.'
Anticipation consumed Astrid. Her family was here, somewhere within these houses. It was as if she could feel their very presence around her. But their forward march deeper into the zone halted abruptly as Daryl's focus shifted, his attention caught by something. "You hear that?" He asked.
Straining to listen, Astrid could discern nothing. Confusion flickered across her face, an expression shared with Aaron, but before any could speak, Daryl hurried forward, leading the way toward a grand mansion-like structure. From a distance, she glimpsed the glow of an orange campfire in its massive faraway backyard, but the tranquility was shattered as screams ruptured the air.
Daryl instinctively drew Astrid closer, shielding her with his own body. Aaron took charge now, brandishing his gun as he rounded a corner of the mansion home where startled cries had replaced the screams. Heart racing, Astrid followed suit, her footsteps pounding on the ground until she abruptly faced over a dozen people. They were all gathered, in the aftermath of a very violent confrontation.
Beyond the gathered group, fresh blood stained the cement ground, and there were three bodies within it. A woman cradled a man, the firelight revealing his throat had been brutally slashed. Meanwhile, another man writhed, held down by the bystander, shouted furiously, "It's him! It's him! It's—"
The stranger's accusing words were cut short by a gunshot, causing Astrid to jump in alarm. Her eyes widened as she traced the trajectory of the gunshot to the stranger who wielded the firearm. She could not see his face from the angle she stood, yet she instantly recognized the distinctive coat and revolver.
"Rick?"
At the sound of his own name, Rick Grimes suddenly glanced up, his entire being tensing. Astrid gasped again as she took in his appearance—drenched in sweat and blood, face covered by multiple, little bandages. Hands trembling, he locked onto her gaze, onto her breathing body, and his blue eyes instantly brimmed with tears.
"Astrid?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. A sudden sob broke. Astrid turned, finding Carol Peletier and Michonne Hawthorne staring at her in disbelief. Carol clutched her chest, while Michonne's lip quivered. Yet, a burning stare drew the Lancaster woman back to Rick. Closing the distance, Rick's puzzled expression softened, and Astrid returned the gesture with a fragile smile, a sense of finality overcoming the fluttering unease in her stomach.
"I'm back."
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