She took a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth, steadying the rifle against her shoulder as she peered down the sights. The deer stood, grazing peacefully, completely oblivious to her presence.
Anna settled her finger over the trigger, ready to fire, when the sound of rustling leaves caught her attention. She tilted her head slightly, angling her ear toward the sound. It was a steady approach as opposed to the stumbling of a walker. A human. She tensed and whirled around, forgetting the deer.
The barrel of her rifle pointed in the face of Spencer, his hands raised in surrender, face pale and eyes wide.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" She demanded through clenched teeth, not bothering to lower her weapon.
"Can you put the gun down first?" He asked, a tremble in his voice.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" she asked again, dropping her rifle to her side.
"I saw you going out alone. I wanted to make sure you were alright—"
"How heroic," Anna sneered, turning on her heel to find the deer was now gone. "Damn it," she hissed, starting towards the area she'd last seen it.
"Go home, Spencer. I'm fine," she called over her shoulder.
"Are you going to make me?" Spencer challenged as Anna crouched in the clearing.
She scanned the ground for tracks. "I could always shoot you," she said, off-handedly.
There was a pause. "You wouldn't do that," Spencer said, laughing uneasily.
"You don't sound so sure," Anna said as she found what she was looking for.
She stood and started off towards the East. After a moment, she heard Spencer following after her. Irritated, she stopped and turned to him.
"You're right, I can't stop you from being out here," she snapped. "But the least you could do is be quiet."
"Sorry," he said.
Anna turned back to her hunt, silently pushing her way through the brush, only for Spencer to follow her with noise.
"How are you so quiet?" he asked.
"For starters, by shutting the fuck up," she groused. "You need to step lightly and be careful of where you put your foot down," she explained. "For instance, don't step on that twig," she said, referring to the twig she had just stepped around that she didn't doubt Spencer was about to step on.
"Right," Spencer said. "Where did you learn to hunt?"
"What happened to shutting the fuck up?"
"I was just curious."
"Daryl taught me, now be quiet."
"He doesn't seem like the kind of guy that just goes around teaching people how to do stuff," Spencer said. "Why'd he teach you?"
"Hey, Daryl?" Anna called, looking up from Milton's journal about the gladiator arena of Woodbury.
She was laid out on the bottom bunk while Daryl sat on the ground making new arrows for his crossbow.
He hummed to indicate that he had heard her.
"You ever teach someone to hunt before?" She asked, thumbing through the journal.
"Nah," Daryl grunted as he moved on to the next soon-to-be arrow.
"Would you, maybe, teach me?" She asked, her voice a nervous mumble.
Daryl stilled in his work and turned his torso to look at her. "You wanna learn to hunt?"
Setting the journal aside, Anna sat up. "I'm a good shot, I know how to move quietly – I wouldn't be hard to teach," she insisted.
"You'd have to listen and do everything I say," Daryl said firmly.
"Like a Dom/Sub situation, got it."
"No," he huffed, and she didn't miss the redness in his cheeks. "Like a Teacher/Student thing,"
"Same thing,"
"I asked him to," Anna finally said. "Now shut up."
She was starting to contemplate how irresponsible it would be to knock him out and leave him, but she decided he'd probably get eaten by walkers and she didn't want to add any more blood on her conscious. Her eye caught movement, and she raised her rifle.
"I just don't see—"
Anna whirled around, slamming Spencer against the tree, her hand over his mouth. She peered around the tree to count the walkers shambling by just a few feet away. There were twelve. She looked around, in case there were any more that might see them.
Looking back at Spencer, Anna leveled him with a hard glare.
"There are a lot of walkers," she whispered. "I'm going to remove my hand and you are going to be silent."
His eyes went wide and he nodded. She moved her hand away from his mouth and returned to surveying the pack of walkers.
"There's too many for us to handle," Spencer whispered beside her as he looked around the tree as well.
Anna shoved him back, hiding herself behind a bush when one of the walkers tilted its head toward them. She put a finger to her lips and glared at Spencer and he pressed his mouth into a straight line.
How is this asshole still alive? She asked herself.
Peeking through the leaves, the walkers continued on, oblivious to their presence. Anna let out a low sigh of relief, bowing her head.
"Shit!"
Anna's head snapped up and she stared wildly at Spencer as he grappled with a walker. She jumped up and tore her knife from its sheath, plunging the blade into the walker's ear before ripping it back out.
"Thanks," Spencer panted.
Anna said nothing as she spun around to see the twelve walkers had turned and were now heading towards them.
"We've got enough ammo," Anna said, breathing heavily as she mentally counted how many bullets they had between them.
"No we don't," Spencer said, drawing her attention to another pack of roamers heading for them.
"Alright, then we run," she stated before taking off East.
She could hear Spencer's long legs carrying him after her, easily catching up. She forced herself to take even breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to keep the ache in her chest and throat at bay as they ran.
"Why are we going East? Alexandria is the other way," Spencer shouted.
"Don't – want – to – bring them – back," Anna huffed, breathless as she leapt over a fallen tree.
Frantic, Anna scanned their ever-changing surroundings as they ran, searching for a place to hide.
"This ain't a sprint, Wycoff – when you're runnin' from the dead, it's a marathon," Drill Sergeant barked. "Pace yourself. The dead don't get winded – you do."
Anna slowed her sprinting to a slower pace until she came to a stop.
"Did we lose them?" Spencer asked as he halted beside her.
She tried to suck air into her lungs, but it was like someone had taken all of the air from the atmosphere. Panic was inching its way through her, making it harder to breath. She clasped her hands behind her head to try and open up her lungs as she looked behind them.
The walkers were out of sight, but she didn't know for how long.
"How many," she wheezed. "How many were in the second group?" she asked, hardly able to speak.
"Anna, are you okay?" Spencer asked, his hand hovering over her shoulder.
"Did you see," she took a deep ragged breath, "how many walkers?"
"I don't know, like twenty in the second group," Spencer said, shaking his head. "Anna, what's wrong?"
"Thirty-two," she said, her voice strained. She glanced at Spencer's rifle. "Any other weapons?" She asked.
"Just this rifle and a knife."
Anna cursed herself; she had only brought the same. Spencer's rifle only carried ten in its mag while the Vanguard rifle she checked out from Alexandria was loaded with five .223's. She knew she had enough ammo in her pack to take out the walkers from high ground. She just needed to find high ground.
"Fuck," she groaned, hearing the walkers snarling as they caught up to the two.
"We need to keep moving, there's a house – it's not far," Spencer said, starting off North-West.
Anna followed him, wishing she still had an inhaler. She was lightheaded, and she just wanted to sit down and breath. But Drill Sergeant's voice kept echoing in her head.
"We don't give up."
By the time they made it to the white paneled house with a pile of junk, Anna was seeing black spots in her vision and ready to collapse.
"Let's get inside," Spencer said, leading the way.
There was more garbage inside. She tripped over a bin and fell towards the ground, too weak to catch herself. Spencer jumped forward and caught her. He held her with one arm as his other reached out to right a chair. He guided her to the chair and sat her down, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"What's going on?" He asked, seeming out of breath himself.
"Asthma," she said, bringing her hands up behind her head. "I just need a minute."
"Asthma?" Spencer asked, incredulous. "Do you have an inhaler?"
She shook her head.
"Shit," Spencer said, straightening, one hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I'll be fine," she assured through her labored breathing. "Just – I don't know – keep watch," she instructed, waving at the door.
Spencer did as she said – a miracle if Anna ever saw one – and left Anna to her breathing exercises. As her heart rate slowed and her breathing evened out, Anna dropped her hands and rubbed her aching thighs.
"Anything?" She asked.
"I think we're clear," Spencer said, turning away from the door. "How do you not have an inhaler?"
Anna rolled her eyes as she got to her feet and checked over her rifle. "They get used up, lost, expired," she explained.
Shrugging off her pack and rummaging through it, Anna pulled out the box of ammo. She poured ten bullets into her hand and stuffed them in the pockets of her jacket.
"So, Daryl teach you how to twist arms too?"
"No," she said, zipping her pack closed and slinging it back on. "I learned that from the army."
"You were in the army?" Spencer asked.
"No."
"I'm confused," Spencer sighed.
"I was with Fort Benning for a few months sometime after everything went down," she explained. "But, they weren't really the army anymore."
"How'd you end up with your group?"
"I was with them towards the beginning – before Fort Benning – we got separated and eventually found each other again," Anna sighed.
"That's pretty amazing," Spencer said.
"Alright, now that story time is over," Anna said, feeling a little awkward. "We should circle around and make our way back to Alexandria – we should have led the walkers away enough." From her reckoning, it was a straight shot North-East to the community.
"What if we run into that herd? I don't think it's a good idea for you to do anymore running," Spencer insisted.
Anna rolled her eyes. "You can stay here if you want, I'm going," she said, holding her rifle ready and pointed at the ground as she made her way to the door. She could hear Spencer sigh heavily as she stepped outside, only to whirl around and run back in. "Great," she hissed.
"What?"
"They've caught up – we wasted too much time," she said, dropping her pack to the ground and opening it. "We're going to have to make a stand here," she said, pulling out the box of ammo and setting it on the ground in front of one of the windows facing East – the direction the herd of walkers were now appearing from.
"We can just lay low and wait for them to pass," Spencer said, dropping into a crouch.
"They probably saw me," Anna grumbled. "Either way, we need to be ready to fight. I want you covering the door, I'll get them as they're coming."
"They could walk right past us," Spencer insisted.
"They could. They could not. We need to be ready if they don't," Anna bit out. "Just do as I tell you and you'll make it out of this alive."
She saw the Adam's apple of Spencer's throat bob as he swallowed hard and nodded. She set her rifle up against the window, the barrel poking out as she watched the herd shamble by. At least three had passed them before the fourth one headed for the house.
"We got one coming," Anna whispered. "Be ready – it's already attracting the others," she said, watching as the herd slowly turned towards them.
The fourth walker stumbled through the door and Spencer fired, the shot ringing out with a deafening BANG. Anna squeezed the trigger, dropping the nearest walker from the window, before she pulled back on the bolt and fired again and again until she need to reload.
"Reloading!"
She dug five bullets from her pocket and loaded them into her rifle, pulled back on the bolt and started again. This continued until Spencer ran out of bullets in his own rifle. She pulled her sidearm and pulled him behind her, firing into the faces of the walkers.
There had been roughly thirty-two in the herd, and she counted the gunshots in her head. There had to be only twelve left. Maybe less. Maybe more. Her heart pounded at the uncertainty.
Her finger hardly let up on the trigger until it clicked and she was out of bullets, facing three more walkers.
"I've almost got it," Spencer shouted as she threw her gun to the ground and shoved the nearest walker into the next before pulling out her knife.
She plunged the blade into the first walker as it started towards her again, dropping it to the ground as she pulled her knife out again. She ducked the second walker's arms and stabbed the next walker through the eye, the hilt getting stuck in the socket.
Abandoning her knife, she turned to the third walker and kicked its feet out from under it, letting it slam against the floor before she stomped the heel of her boot into its head repeatedly.
Panting, she straightened and stood back to admire her work when she looked up to find Spencer staring at her, mouth agape and eyes wide.
After a moment, he got to his feet, dusting off his jeans and clearing his throat, avoiding her eyes as he looked around at the carnage.
"You, uh…" he trailed off before he finally looked at her, his eyes unreadable. "You really didn't need me here."
"Are you just now figuring that out?" She asked. "Look, I get it – you thought you'd come out here, be my knight in shining armor. But, I don't need that. I don't want that."
He said nothing and she sighed.
"Let's head back," she said, grabbing the box of ammo and her gun, leading the way out of the house.
.
They made it back to Alexandria without incident or conversation. Spencer seemed lost in thought as they approached, and Anna was more than happy about the silence. She did, however, feel irritated that she hadn't caught the deer.
As they neared the front gate, she saw that it was open. A dirty white van was parked just inside, and Tara was being carried out by two Alexandrians, unconscious. Anna took off running.
"What happened?" She demanded as she scanned Tara's injuries.
"There was a grenade," Eugene muttered, trembling and following after Tara as she was carried to the infirmary.
"Glenn? Noah?" Anna called, looking for the two in question. Glenn stepped around the van; the expression on his face was grim.
"Noah… he didn't make it," he said, his voice low as he shot a quick glance at Nicholas.
"Aiden?" Spencer asked, coming up beside Anna.
"Spencer, I—" Nicholas stammered.
"I'm sorry," Glenn finished, shaking his head.
Anna looked to Spencer, saw the broken look on his face.
"Spencer—"
"I need to tell my parents," he said, his voice vacant as, in a daze, he walked away and down the road.
Anna watched him go for a moment before turning to Glenn and Nicholas.
"What happened?"
"I need to go talk to Deanna," Nicholas muttered, ignoring her.
"Come on, we need to tell the others about Noah," Glenn said, gesturing for her to follow him as another Alexandrian hopped into the van and drove it away. Anna followed him in silence.
.
Anna tapped her pen against the paper, unsure of what she was supposed to say. Two files lay open in front of her – one for Noah and one for Aiden. They were the stories of the two young men that she hadn't expected to end so soon.
She shook her head – there was no life expectancy anymore. "The moment you set foot on the other side of that fence you are presumed dead. Killed in action." Why had she allowed herself to forget that?
She looked at the number 545 scribbled on a yellow sticky note, stuck to the lamp. Reg had kept a journal since the turn, keeping track of the days.
Clicking her pen, she wrote out in both files Day of death after outbreak: 545. Starting with Aiden, Anna detailed his death as matter of fact as she could. She knew it would be hard to do the same for Noah. She knew Noah better than Aiden, and she was still angry and uneasy about the conversation with Glenn and Rick.
"All he had to do was hold the door," Glenn said, squeezing his hands together. "But, Nicholas, he panicked. Noah," he cleared his throat, his eyes watering. "I had him. I had his hand. I tired." His voice cracked. "I watched him die."
Anna stopped the recording and took deep, steady breaths. She and Rick were sitting on the front porch with Glenn as he recounted the events of the run.
"I could have left him out there," Glenn muttered. "Could've told a story." He looked up at Rick, who tilted his head. "What, you think I should have?" he asked.
"They don't know what they're doing. Any of them," Rick said, dodging the question.
"We'll show them," Glenn insisted.
"I don't know if they can see it," Rick said, looking between Glenn and Anna. "How things really are. I don't know if they can yet. They haven't caught up."
"We have to be here," Glenn said firmly. "We have to."
"Yeah, we do," Rick agreed. "But their rules," he shook his head, "we don't answer to them."
"We are them, Rick," Anna said, furrowing her brow.
"Noah, he believed in this place," Glenn said. "I'm telling you, we gotta make this work."
Anna ran her hands down her face and groaned. Finished with Aiden's file, she started on Noah's, trying to carry over the matter-of-fact tone. Day of death after outbreak: 545. She wondered if someone would write her death, or if she would die and fade in the memories of the people who survived her.
"I want you to be remembered." That's what she had said to Noah. That's what she intended to do. To remember him.
Distantly, she heard a knock at the front door. She quickly finished her sentence and got to her feet, rushing out of the office to open the door. Standing there, an unopened bottle of whiskey in one hand, was Spencer.
She thought about turning him away, sending him back home, but his red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks had her stepping aside and letting him in.
"No one should drink alone," Spencer said as he took a seat on the soft blue couch in the living room.
Anna went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of tumblers, wondering if she should wake Jessie and have him join them. She decided against it and sat down beside Spencer, handing him one of the glasses. He poured the whiskey and she took a small sip.
"Why'd you come here, Spencer?" Anna asked after a moment, trying to keep her tone gentle.
"Didn't want to be at home," he shrugged. "It's too sad there."
"You're going to have to face it eventually," Anna said, taking another sip on her whiskey.
"I know," he muttered. "Just… not yet."
Anna breathed deeply and sat back against the couch, periodically sipping on her whiskey until it was gone. Spencer offered to refill her glass, but she declined, and the two sat in silence, holding empty glasses.
"Why don't you like me?" Spencer asked.
"I don't think—"
"Please, just humor me," he pleaded.
"I liked you well enough before, Spencer. You were nice."
"And then I kissed you," he said.
"And then you kissed me," she nodded.
"So, you don't like me because you think I came on too strong?" He asked.
"I think? Spencer, you'd only known me for three days before you kissed me," Anna huffed. "Look," she said, trying to calm herself. "I can be your friend. I can't be anything else."
"Why not?"
"Why do you want there to be anything else?" She asked.
"Because you're strong and beautiful and smart and kind and I like you," Spencer listed off. "I like you, Anna. I want to try for something here." He leaned toward her, his eyes on her lips, and she pushed him back.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said.
"I'm not," Spencer said, taking her hand in his. "Can't you try?"
"No."
"Please."
"I love Daryl."
Spencer pulled back, staring at her, confused. "What?"
"Daryl. I love him. He and I have been together for about two years – it's complicated right now, but I love him," she explained, looking away from him to set her glass on the coffee table.
"How? He's so… scary," Spencer asked.
"He's a good man," Anna asserted.
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Spencer asked, seeming to get irritated.
"I shouldn't have to belong to another person for you to take 'no' for an answer," Anna snapped. "I told you 'no' and that should have been good enough."
Spencer looked away, his jaw ticking. "You said it was complicated?"
"That doesn't change anything," Anna said, shaking her head.
"Except it does," he said, standing. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey. "When you see that, you know where to find me."
Anna watched him walk to the door, her brows knitted together in confusion and irritation. She shook her head and put her face in her hands.
"Fucking hell," she groaned.
