Chapter 11:

Dad

Carl didn't have his sword. All he had was a slightly blunt knife, but you'd be surprised how effective one person can be with the right motivation. He came close to dying when he was overcome by one walker too many, but was saved by Daryl's crossbow.

"GO!" Daryl shouted to Carl, and he did. Daryl chased after him and used his arrows as cover for Carl. Carl sprinted towards the car and was only half a field away when he saw no walkers surrounding the car, and no sister on top of it.

But Carl didn't think for a second that Judith was dead, so he looked for her, and his eyes locked with a newly surrounding crowd of walkers with a large blade swinging up into the air and back down.

Then Daryl ran past him with his crossbow raised. "Come on, let's go!" He yelled and Carl ran after him towards Judith.

I knew that I was almost done. More walkers surrounded me, but I just couldn't fight anymore. But then I remembered the story Beth told me about Daryl when he went looking for a little girl and came back with a doll. Took an arrow, a concussion and apparently a bullet wound for some reason, and still came back.

"Don't be such I pussy," I muttered to myself between raspy breaths. So I kept on slashing at heads forcing myself not to give up, until I fell. My vision got blurry, but I still couldn't just give up. A walker fell on top of me like before, and I jammed the tip of the blade up it's chin through to the brain, then used every bit of strength I had left to push it off me. Another walker came at me and I clambered to get to my knees as another two walkers approached.

I stumbled on my feet, having to lean against my thighs for balance, and my vision started to blur. I swung my machete in front of me like an idiot, and forced myself to stand up just to kill at least two more.

But I didn't.

My machete fell from my hands to the ground beneath me and I glared into the dead eyes of the last walker in front of me. The thought that this would be the last set of eyes I would ever see in my life made me sick. And the thought that soon my eyes would look just as dead as theirs, made me even sicker.

I didn't want to die, but I was going to.

And then an arrow went right through it's dead eye. I watched in a daze as it fell to the floor and pressed both hands against my legs to stop from falling along with him. I looked up and saw Daryl and Carl running towards me from across the field with their weapons lowered.

Then I saw my Dad, and tears welled up in my eyes. I blinked and they fell down my filthy cheek. And I started limping towards them with a twisted ankle, stinging shoulder, covered in bruises, and what felt like a concussion. And I just kept limping towards my father – because apparently I didn't have it in me to kill one last walker, let alone stand up properly, but I did have it in me to limp all the way across the field.

As their little figures became bigger, I started to grin. It was supposed to be a smirk of pride at what I had done, but it was more of a genuine smile at the sight of my dad standing there waiting for me.

"Dad," I whispered at the hopes that he would hear me say that for the first time in a long time. I got closer and reached out my fingers for him with my smile widening.

And then he raised his weapon.

Author's Notes: Alright, now I want actual feedback from you. Or at least heinous theories, or something! Come on guys, be cool.