Lindsey hurried down the hallway and through the first doorway she came to. She slammed the door behind her and turned around. The room was empty and consisted of only four dark and dirty concrete walls. She had been here before, but only in her dreams. It was how she knew what would happen next.
She blinked and there was Jared. He stood before her in his Braves jersey. Everything looked normal about him except for his eyes. No longer a brilliant green, they were gray and covered with a milky haze. He stepped toward her and she tried to take a step back but was still pressed against the closed door. A voice in her head repeated the words she had heard hundreds of times before.
It's not him. He is going to kill you. Put him down.
Since the room was empty she had nothing to use in defense. He quickly advanced on her and she pushed him away. He came at her again and this time she kicked out his legs, sending him to the floor with a thud. Before he could get up, she jumped onto him and held his head in both her hands. With a wave of nausea, she attempted to twist his head around. It was like this every time – she was suddenly too weak to do what she needed to do. It felt like every muscle was gone from her arms. Finally, she gritted her teeth and fought the weightlessness. With a gut wrenching snap, she knew it was done. She stood up and looked down at her husband.
This was usually the part when she saw that his eyes had cleared and he was staring into nothingness – but this time it wasn't him. Instead, Rick's blue eyes were empty and lifeless. Lindsey fell to her knees, sobs ripping from her throat.
"Oh God. Rick..." She carefully touched his cheek and still he didn't move.
You killed him.
"Oh Rick. What did I do? Rick!" she screamed.
Suddenly, Lindsey jolted awake. Rick's face was hovering over hers. She had never been so thankful to see his vibrant, blue eyes. She could hear a loud whimpering noise mixed with rapid breathing and quickly realized both were coming from her. Rick held her shoulders and gently rubbed her soft skin with his thumb. Wetness streaked her cheeks and she gasped as she tried to catch her breath.
"Shh, you're okay. You're awake now," he murmured.
Lindsey looked into his eyes as he attempted to help her take slower breaths. They both inhaled, exhaled and gradually she began to appear calmer.
"Do you want to talk about it? It might help," he suggested as he sat down into the nearby armchair.
She wrapped the worn blanket tightly around her shoulders and glanced at him. He was leaning back with his ankle on the opposite knee and one elbow resting on the arm of the chair. She looked away from him, not sure if she really wanted to tell him the whole thing – especially the part that involved her husband turning into him. When she spoke, her voice was noticeably heavy from sleep.
"I've had this dream since the beginning...or the end, depending on how you look at it..."
"How often?" Rick asked quietly.
She shrugged. "Probably four or five nights a week, sometimes more."
Rick nodded, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. It was all the encouragement she needed to tell him about her dream.
"I'm running from something. I don't know what, just that I have to get away. I close myself in an abandoned room, but suddenly Jared is there. He looks exactly as I last remember him, except for his eyes. He had the most beautiful green eyes. I always joked that they were the reason I married him."
Her lips twitched into a small smile, but was quickly replaced with a frown. She didn't say out loud that she had hoped their children would have green eyes like their father.
"For a moment I think that it's still him and he won't attack me, but something in my mind tells me that he's a threat and the only way to survive...is to kill him."
Lindsey stopped and ran a hand through her hair. It exaggerated the part and made her look disheveled, which was fitting at the moment. She regarded Rick, expecting him to say something. Instead, he patiently waited for her to continue. She began, slower this time, as if it actually pained her to speak.
"He comes at me. I try to fight him off, but I'm so weak. Eventually I...do what I needed to do. But when I look at him, his eyes have cleared. Now the voice is telling me that he wasn't a threat and I killed him in cold blood. I start crying and scream his name, hoping that he'll wake up. That it's some sick joke or - just a dream..."
Through a single glance, they exchanged an unspoken thought: there was no relief after waking from these nightmares, because it was ongoing. Their lives were nightmares.
"Is it always Jared that you see?" Rick asked suddenly.
"Yes, uh...of course. Why?" It was a lie, but she didn't want him to think she was some crazy woman having dreams about him.
"No reason. Just curious," he responded while scratching his head, not meeting her eyes.
"D-did I say anything before I woke up?" Lindsey tried to ask casually.
This time he did look at her. He appeared to be hesitating. Finally, he said, "No, it just sounded like you were crying."
Lindsey knew he was the one lying now. Her past group members had told her that during that particular nightmare she cried out her dead husband's name before waking. Always. She knew Rick had heard her say his name. She just hoped that it didn't make him see her differently.
Attempting to break the tension-filled silence, Lindsey changed the subject.
"I'm sorry if I woke you. You look exhausted."
"Yeah, well, you didn't. I couldn't sleep. I decided to clean the hunting rifle that was so kind as to crack me over the head. I swear, if I get hit one more time in the head, there's going to be permanent damage." He gestured to the rifle bitterly.
"That rifle may very well save your head. It's a good thing we found it, or that it found us." Lindsey smiled wryly. "Do you know what time it is?"
All the curtains had been pulled shut so it was impossible to see if there was any daylight yet. Rick studied his watch by the dim lantern they had found under the kitchen sink.
"It's almost five. The sun will be coming up pretty soon. We should get our things together and head out at first light. Would you like a cup of tea before we leave?" he asked as he got up to walk into the kitchen.
"Yes, please. I could use the caffeine." Lindsey stretched and got up to use the bathroom. She did her business and walked back into the living room. Rick presented her with a steaming mug and she took it gratefully.
They ate their small breakfast in comfortable silence until there was the prominent sound of tires on gravel. Rick rushed to the nearest window and pulled back the curtain just enough to see down the driveway. At the same time, Lindsey dimmed the lantern until the room was swallowed in darkness.
"Can you tell who it is?" she asked nervously.
Squinting, Rick was able to spot the outline of a battering ram on the front of the approaching vehicle – he recognized it immediately.
"We gotta go. Grab the rifle, I'll get the bag of supplies. We'll go out the back."
Rick rushed to throw the last couple necessities in a nearby bag he'd found in the bedroom earlier. After throwing the bag over his shoulder, he withdrew his gun from its holster and checked the barrel - two rounds.
Shit.
He rushed to meet Lindsey and found her waiting, the rifle slung over her back. "Just stay low and head for the woods that lead in the direction of the prison. If we get split up, just keep going and follow close to the lake. Got it?" he whispered. Lindsey nodded. "Good. Let's go."
Rick carefully unlocked the door and opened it enough so they could slip through. Lindsey quickly made her way into the woods, which were dark with brush. He was about to follow when the beam of a flashlight crossed his path. A shadow appeared in front of him and he heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked.
"Found ya, Sheriff. You're a little late for your date with the Governor. Shall we?"
Rick attempted to aim his gun at Martinez, but was grabbed from behind and quickly disarmed by Bowman. He clenched his jaw in frustration. Martinez prodded him forward and he dragged his feet, trying to buy some time. He tried to be subtle as he looked to see if Lindsey was nearby but it was too dark.
"Where the fuck is Tom? Shouldn't he have finished his sweep by now?" Martinez snapped, still pushing Rick to walk faster. Tom must have been one of the Governor's new recruits. Dumb bastard.
"I'll find him," Bowman volunteered.
"And the girl! I know she's gotta be close by," Martinez said.
Bowman ran off and Martinez continued to shove Rick forward. His mind was racing. How was he going to get out of this? Where was Lindsey? Did Tom find her? Horrible thoughts swirled through his head. Martinez solidified it as he started to antagonize Rick.
"She is quite the looker. I do hope you got a piece of that 'cause as of today, she's mine. I told the guys I'd share, and hey, maybe if I get bored, I will. But first, she needs to know what it feels like to be with a real man-"
Rick tightened his fists until they ached. He was about to turn around and beat the living daylights out of Martinez when he heard a loud crack and felt the splatter of a dense liquid on his back. He peered over his shoulder and saw a huge hole where Martinez's face had been only a moment before. The man's body now lay crumpled on the rocky driveway. Rick looked up and was surprised to see Lindsey was running toward him, rifle in hand. She stopped so quickly that her boots slid across the gravel.
"Oh, God. You're okay!" she whispered breathlessly.
He was about to wrap his arms around her when he noticed her hands were streaked with blood.
"What the hell happened, Lindsey? Are you okay?"
"Rick, I'm alright...I took care of them," she said while attempting to wipe the blood off on her jeans.
"Them?" he asked.
She shrugged and touched the knife on her hip. "I did what I had to do. I told you that you'd get back to Carl and Judith – no matter what."