My heart was beating with rigorous thuds, and my legs couldn't keep up with the pace of it. I thought I saw the hill stretch out in front of me, but it wasn't real and my legs worked robotically to keep me going no matter what my head told me I was seeing or thinking. I hit the tree line and I stumbled, some branch in my way. My hands went in front of me and broke my fall only to realize that I had run into a tattered mess of a blue plaid shirt with some grizzly teeth ready to eat my flesh alive. My head snapped back as it snapped its teeth at me, and soon jammed the knife at my hip in its weathered head before groping the ground to get back on my feet. But in that moment when I stabbed through its skull, and my footfalls didn't consume my ears, I heard the sound of a crackling burning, and the labored screams of whoever was left.
A part of me wanted to look back. I could've. The shufflers were drawn to the heat of the fires, figure it was a better meal ticket than little old me. But I wouldn't. If I did, I wouldn't be able to keep going like I needed too. So that's exactly what I did.
I slipped into the wilderness like a drop of water into a lake. The trees leaned and groaned, greeting me back as I strode in, the bag at my side hitting my leg as my feet guided me farther and farther away. The leaves made the sunlight green above me as I walked and my eyes followed that bright light as it sank down toward the horizon. It was nearing dusk when the woods became a road, and naturally I followed it until I found adequate shelter for the night. A small shack next to a burned down house looked like it would do just fine. And only three shufflers outside to boot! Must have been my lucky day.
The first one took notice of me so I unsheathed my knife and grabbed its throat as it lunged for me. Nearly tore out its windpipe in the process of stabbing it in the ear, but it fell, like they all do. The second and third heard the body fall and came for me. I grabbed the closer one by the hair and my knife made it's way up through its jaw. The third nearly got me by the elbow but I knocked it back in time. When it swung itself upright and forward I just held my knife and it fell right on it between the eyes.
The shack had no line of defense. Not even a lock (by the looks of it, it had been kicked in at some point). Luckily it turned out to be a tool shed, and with a couple of rusty nails and a piece of the work bench I managed to bolt it shut. The remaining cleared workbench served as my bed for the night.
My back hit the wood, and my bag, filled with antiseptics, water, gauze and power-bars served as my pillow. There were a few groans outside, but they couldn't smell me in here… probably.
I should have known what would come next, as my heart began to slow and the night settled in. After all that had happened, I was alone with my thoughts at last. That was the most dangerous thing. Not the shufflers outside that might come to my door, or whoever else was left in this world. What my thoughts would turn to in the middle of the night, the memories I would dig up. I would hate every minute of it.
But it would happen. I could go through a whole herd just to get some melatonin in my veins. But that was a luxury that I could not afford now. So I turned on my side. I let them come.
At first I remembered the man with the knife. The blood. The silence. Why did it have to be silence? I'd take anything over it. But there it was, blaring and unyielding. I sank the blade of my axe. I slashed, and cut and hit and I couldn't stop...
"Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy."
It shifted. I was back in the woods, with a tall man in my sights. Staring down the barrel of a very shiny Colt Python.
"Why should I?"
He held up his hands and slowly leaned down to the ground placing his revolver on the dead leaves.
"Because we have a camp, not far from here."
I kept him in my sights, but lifted my finger off the trigger.
It didn't make sense. Why this one? I'd never thought about it before let alone at night. But it took over quick, and I was a slave to see it through.
"I can take you back with me. We have people there. Food, clean water, a roof over your head."
"And how am I supposed to believe you?"
"Well, by the looks of things, you're not much better off out here. So you're just gonna have to lower your weapon and trust me."
There was something in his sterling blue eyes. Some glint of hope. It terrified me. So my gun fell to my side.
He frisked me. That was smart. But he let me keep all of my gear, even my gun and my axe and down to my knife. Also smart. Not letting me think that I was just gonna walk in unarmed and blind, letting me have a safety net.
"So that's it?"
"Not quite."
We stopped walking for a beat.
"I have some questions to ask you."
"What like 20 questions? Really? Nice guy like you had me figuring you'd have the decency to buy me dinner first."
He chuckled at that.
"No. Nothin' like that. Just three questions."
"Well all right, shoot."
He stopped dead and turned to face me. I mimicked him and waited.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
"Hundreds. Thousands, maybe. I haven't been keeping track."
"How many people have you killed?"
I hesitated. I probably shouldn't have. I remembered the man with the knife.
"One."
"Why?"
This was the question that mattered to him. I knew that. I straightened my spine.
"He tried to kill me. Kill people I loved. So I killed him first."
A moment passed and he gave a satisfied nod.
"I can understand that."
He held out his hand to me.
"The name's Rick Grimes."
I readjusted my shoulder bag and shook it.
"Tess. Tess Callaghan."
Those few words echoed in my mind as I finally fell asleep despite my shallow feeling in my chest and the wet stinging my cheeks.