The prison had fallen.
Hershel was dead. Kip was dead. Countless other people we probably didn't even know about were dead. We still hadn't found any of the others. Part of me thought they were all dead, and we were the only ones alive. I knew that wasn't true, but I could still hear the explosions in my ears, feel the shake of the earth as parts of the large prison crumbled to the ground.
Chibs and I had made it out alive somehow, through the gunfire and the explosions. We'd been wandering for a day and a half when we found a hunting cabin. The roof had caved in to the point the house was nearly demolished. But the overhang for the carport still stood strong and sturdy, and so after we searched the rubble of the house for any supplies, we returned to the carport with a can of beans and a knife.
I'd started a fire for Chibs, as he wasn't sure how to. "Opie was the pyro," he'd told me back at the prison about them were wandering Georgia, looking for me.
I was fine while I was doing something; walking, searching the house, starting the fire. I could force away the pain because I was doing something, I was being useful. It was when I sat back for a moment, with nothing to do but stare at the fire, that all my turmoil, all my grief, all my sadness turned on me, and left me with a numbing sensation that made me wonder if my hands had suddenly fallen off.
Watching the fire dance, the only thought that found its way into my mind was of Kip, loading busses one moment, charging the enemy the next. He had no reservations, he had no doubts. He had seen war before, and he knew this was exactly the same. He went into battle, fighting for his friends and his family, willing to sacrifice himself to save someone else.
I knew all of us would've fought for as long as we could, tried our best to keep our home, to defend what was ours. But I didn't know if I could charge a man shooting at me. I didn't know if I had the inner strength to distract a shooter like that so that my friends could get out safely. I wanted to say I'd try, but if it came down to it, I didn't know if I really could make that choice.
But Kip didn't even think about it. He kenw people were getting hurt and dying around him, and the only logical fix for that in his mind was to eliminate the threat. He died to help get those people on the buses out safe, because he knew he was strong enough to fall for his friends if it came to that.
"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, lass?" The thick Scottish voice asked, nearly making me jump from my thoughts. HI voice was rough, hoarse from lack of use. We hadn't talked since he'd told me he'd found the house and we needed to search it; it'd had to have been a few hours since then.
"Kip." I said quietly, feeling my sadness coat the single word like honey, sticky and thick.
Chibs said nothing for a long time. "He was a good man."
"He didn't even think twice." I said absently, keeping my eyes trained on the fire that licked at the log I'd thrown on before I sat down however long ago.
" 'e just wanted to die for somethin' importan'." Chibs spoke quietly. His words were simple, but they held so much meaning. I knew Kip wouldn't want to die for nothing.
"For us." I murmured, looking up at him for the first time since I'd built the fire. The weight of the words sat squarely on my back, making me feel hunched over and heavy.
Chibs nodded firmly, as if the weight of the realization had been hard on his shoulders as well. "For us." He agreed with a nod.
"If there is a heaven," I mumbled, letting my first tear fall. "I hope to God that's where he is."
Chibs shuffled around on the ground before he sat right next to me. "Oh he is, lass, he is." He told me, putting his arm around my shoulder.
I fell into his chest, letting my tears come. I cried for what seemed like several hours, before I slowly pulled myself away from Chibs and wiped my eyes. I felt empty, hollow on the inside.
"We're not meant to outlive them." I mumbled, feeling the numbness take over again.
"Who them?" Chibs questioned.
"The walkers." I told him, looking out at the forest past the fire. It was dark, a new moon in the sky, hiding the world from us.
"Nah, lass, they ain't no owls." He told me plainly, his arm still around my shoulder.
I turned to him. "Owls? What does that mean?"
"Ya see lass, there's two kinds o' people in the world; the owls and mice. The owls are the hunters of the people, the ones makin' it better. The mice are the weak, who can only do for themselves, but ain't never better themselves. These beasts, they ain't no owls. They're mice." He told me.
I felt a little bit like this was something that got lost in translation, but I nodded a little bit.
"Ya don't believe me?" He asked.
"They're stronger, they're meaner, they're never ending. These are some mean ass mice." I told him, still watching the forest.
He squeezed my shoulder, pulling my closer into his side. "They're the mice. I'll prove ya so."