Hello!

Yes, it's been a while, and I haven't kept my promise. (So, so sorry) But...here it is. And we're kinda nearing the end of the story, after this only one more chapter to go :'(

(Disclaimer: I do not own TWD)

Enjoy! ;)

Chapter 24: Last glance

We are really hitting it off. As in; hey let's go find Alexa, just the two of us, with no tracking skill's whatsoever, we'll totally find her. We've already been here for three hours? Well that just means we're getting closer to where she is. And we've probably gotten better at knowing the difference between an animal's footprint and that of a human. Absolutely.

That's pretty much where we are at this point. Aimlessly searching. I feel that Carl is getting tired, and I have to say that I am too, a little. Just great.

"Let's just go back to where you last saw her" I sigh at one point. Carl sniggers.

"Again?"

"Got any better ideas?"

He shrugs, kicking a stone away from his feet. It lands in a pile of leaves, that oddly enough seems to be put there very carefully. As if someone is gathering them. The stone lands in the middle, and suddenly about a dozen mice start running around.

"Shit" I grumble. I'm not scared of them, I just don't like them. Carl looks a little pale too. "Thank you for your initiative, cadet Grimes, but I have to state that it was quite useless in our current situation."

"I'm here to help, ok?" he mumbles. "I just think that if we keep going back to where we came from, we're not really searching. Look, I know what I'm doing, although it may not seem like it. Sadly enough, we kind of had an experience like this."

"What? Mice?"

"No!" Carl grunts annoyed, both at me and himself. "About a year ago, before we'd found the prison, we were still traveling around. At some point, the highway was blocked by abandoned cars. Then, outta nowhere, a herd appeared. We had nowhere to go, so we hid ourselves under the cars and let it blow over. We waited patiently, but one of our group got up to early. She ran into the woods, being chased by two or three walkers. My dad ran after her to save her. He was the last one to see her." Carl bites his lip, bowing his head. His sheriff's hat covers his eyes. "We searched for weeks and weeks. My dad couldn't give up, neither of us could. When we finally found her, she'd already turned." He slams his fist dramatically at a tree trunk, as if the emotions of that time are getting to him. "She was my friend, and she died because we weren't fast enough with finding her. We kept searching the same areas, sometimes in different order but it never resulted in anything." Carl lifts his head, looking me straight in the eyes. What I expected were tears, maybe redness, or at least a little sign of sorrow, but I see none of that. It's just plain determination. "If we keep going in circles, like we are doing now, who knows in what state we'll find her."

I sigh. I don't really know what to say. I let myself sit down on a fallen tree trunk, wiping some sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. Yuck. "I'm sorry about your friend. And maybe you have a point. I appreciate your opinion, but right now my head's just full of everything. I don't know what to do. Your story just awakens my deepest fears. I'm a mess, you're a mess, she's a mess. This whole search party was just too idealistic to actually work."

"Are you saying you've lost hope?" Carl asks, as he sits down next to me. I shrug.

"I dunno, man. I don't want to say that, but I am kind of lacking motivation right now."

After that, we're silent for a while. For the first time, I notice how quiet it is today. We've only come across a few walkers, which kind of kept my hopes up of Alexa being alive. There's no real herd anywhere. Now that I think about it; there weren't much at the prison either.

I frown. The walker activity has really shrunk in the past few days. They're either migrating, or just shrinking in numbers.

If they're migrating, it means there's some place like the prison elsewhere in the area. From what I've heard from the supply runners that've been going out lately there's no such thing, it's all dust and dirt out there. And besides; what could be tastier than a community with a mixture of young and old flesh? So it's either something like Woodbury, which was very well hidden in my opinion, or they're living underground or something, which also isn't such a bad idea.

If they're shrinking in numbers, that would be very, very fortunate. It either means the apocalypse is coming to an end, or people are just starting to be more careful not to turn into a walker. Which would also mean that walkers might be starving, literally.

I grin to myself. I'm way too optimistic about this, gluing an entire hypothesis to just a few walkers less at the gates. I'm really starting to lose it, aren't I?

A better explanation then; someone is getting rid of them. Someone is out here killing them for us. For as far as I know there wasn't such a plan in the prison, which means someone is either working on their own account or not part of our group.

I suddenly, the image of Alexa's unconscious body flashes before my eyes. I remember Carl describing her attackers as lights coming from the woods. We assumed they were Woodbury-men, but what if it's another group…?

"Whatever happens" I say to break the silence, "we're not splitting up. There's something not right here, besides the dead rising from their graves."

Carl turns his head. "Did you see something? Or someone?"

I shake my head. "It's just a feeling. C'mon, let's try some other route. I'll take the front, you the back. Let's find some water, I'm hella thirsty."

There should be a small river nearby. If Alexa intentionally ran away, which probably isn't the case but what the hell, she probably would've gone there.

As we make our way through some really tough vegetation (seriously I might lose my eyes if I'm not careful enough) I try to focus on my hearing, searching for the sounds of tiny waves hitting round stones. Unfortunately, Carl's footsteps are really, really loud, so if a walker were nearby I probably would see him first before hearing, which isn't as nice as it sounds. It's better to hear it coming than to have it jump on top of you.

We hike up this small hill, which I recognize as one of our many camping sides from before the prison. I can almost see the campfire there, our little tents, hear the guitar and a low voice singing, Alexa smiling and softly humming along. I sometimes do miss those times, but I wouldn't want to go back to them. What I want the most right now, is to just have her back. See her happy again. Just see her face.

Finally, I hear something that sounds like a river. It's at the other side of the hill, I remember it not being that far away.

We slide down at the other end, the sound of fresh water ever so welcoming.

"Nice" I say, giving Carl an awkward high five. He returns it, to my relief. "Fill up, I'll keep watch."

Carl kneels down at the riverbank, and puts his small plastic bottle under water. Meanwhile, I scan the area with my eyes, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Quiet, as before, but not very reassuring. The more we go into the woods, the stronger my anxiously feelings grow. Something's just not right.

Carl stand up again, stretching his arms. He holds up his bottle to take a sip, but stops halfway. He freezes.

"Ash" he says, with an emotionless voice. I see he wants to say more, but another voice interrupts him.

"Just shut up, kid, there's not much you can do." Next, I feel the barrel of a gun against the back of my head. "Hands up, slowly. Drop the gun."

I do as he says, and my shotgun falls with a loud thud in the grass, as if it sends me a last warning.

"Now take the gun from the kid" the low voice commands me. "Don't pull anything funny, or I'll blow your brains out."

"Understood" I mumble, while eyeing Carl. He looks tensed. I want to ask how many of them there are, but he doesn't answer. I pull his gun from his belt.

"Now, slowly hand it over. Don't turn around, just give it to me." As I hand over the gun backwards, I try to glance over my shoulder. Immediately, I feel pain at the back of my skull. "I said; no turning around!"

From the split second I was able to see, I assume there are about four guys, all armed. Three guns, one melee. One has his pointed a my head, one has Carl in his aim, another is making his way to the side, and the other keeps watch for any walkers approaching.

"Now listen up" the manly voice behind me continues. "You're gonna turn around when I tell you so. When I tell you to start walking, you'll start walking. When I tell you to stop, you'll stop."

"Loud and clear" I grumble back. I hear a laughter coming from the guy, a laughter without a trace of being amused.

"We got a funny one over here. Real cute." He pushes the gun a little harder at my head, right at the spot where he hit me before. I grind my teeth. Hell, that hurts. It wouldn't surprise me if it's bleeding like Niagara Falls. "Let's get going. Dex, you take the kid. You know the drill; if he does anything as fart, you shoot."

Before I have to turn my back on Carl, I eye him. We're in big trouble.

The men lead us back up the hill, and at the top, they make us stop. "We're gonna blindfold you know, so don't start crying if you can't see shit anymore."

I open my mouth to reply again, but I change my mind. These guys don't look like they're persuasive. We're gonna have to find some other way to escape.

Walking with your eyes closed is very scary. Walking with a blindfold even more. You can only see the ground, see what's below you, but not what's in front of you. And these guys sure know what they're doing and how to make use of that. They make us bump into trees, smack branches in our face, even tackle us. It's almost like we're in high school.

I have no idea what their game is. I've lost all sense of direction, so I try to focus on my hearing again. We're far off the river now, I can't hear it anymore. There's only our footsteps and theirs. Again, there are no walkers in the area, according to my ears that is. It wouldn't surprise me if these men threw me at one once they come across it.

Little by little I start to hear some other sounds. Voices, fast footsteps, small footsteps. I hear water, but not like a river. More like a bucket full of it. I hear canvas, as in tents. I hear tingling, like a bell or something.

I hear children, I hear laughing. I hear a woman's voice shouting. I hear laughing.

But there's one voice that stands above the others. It sends shivers down my spine, gives me goosebumps, forms a lump in my throat, gives me a headache.

"Alexa?!" I hear myself shout. Immediately, I feel the barrel of the gun slamming against my head.

"Who said you could talk?"

Immediately, the voice disappear. It's getting quiet again, as if the whole atmosphere of a campsite I just heard vanished like an illusion, a dream.

I hear footsteps coming my way. Someone grabs my arm, drags me along like a pet. The sounds of canvas and water get stronger, as if I'm entering the camp.

I'm being pushed down on my knees, and now another gun is pointed a my head. The blindfold gets ripped of my face.

I blink, the light of day blinding me after being in the dark for a while. My sight's blurry, but when it sharpens, I see a woman standing in front of me, her arms placed on her hips. She looks at me with disgust and hate for some reason. I don't think I know who she is.

I take a quick look around. We indeed entered a camp. It's in the middle of the forest, but they've secured themselves by piling up tree trunks, like a beaver's dam. There are tents everywhere, and lots and lots of people. Small children, elderly. But there's one in particular I'm searching for. I try to spot her brown messy hair and pale face, but it's too crowded. The people seemed to have gathered around.

"Is this him?" a low voice behind me asks. It's a different one from before, and he seems to be the guy who holds the gun. The woman looks at me, bows down, narrows her eyes, still with disgust. I want to ask what's going on, but I'm not sure that's a good idea.

The woman straightens her back, and sighs. She looks at the guy behind me and sighs. "It's not one of them, but he is their comrade."

"Understood" the man says. Suddenly, there's some intrusion in the mass of people. Someone is trying to get through. I see a brown haired girl, almost fighting to get to the front. She pushes others to the side, almost fighting.

"Ash!"

The barrel of the gun hits my head again. I don't think I'm gonna hear the gunshot. I don't think I want to. I lift my head, and force myself to smile for one last time. I can see her. She screams my name again, and I close my eyes. Then it ends.