Chapter Forty Nine
Vivian's Home for Orphaned Survivors


3 Years Time


Local buzz roared on the streets of New York City. It was the unveiling of a landmark, to commemorate those lost in the end-of-world battles. A true sanctuary. It was Vivian's Home for Orphaned Survivors. Located in Lower Manhattan, it was the grand opening. Everybody knew for miles around what was going on. It was genius, true genius. The papers had gathered, nosy survivors too. They asked among themselves who had thought the idea up and why they chose New York. Other people thought it was a pleasant addition to the city. Something that really commemorated those lost and their surviving children. A spokesperson gave a guided tour during the day. Visitors were shown the East Wing which was aptly names the Big Brother Wing and then the West, labelled the Little Brother Wing. The exclusive guests could look out into the reflection garden in the centre of the building with a plaque honouring Sister Vivian. Nobody knew who she was but they bowed their heads and moved on. It was explained through the day-tour that there were hired staff and care-givers for the children as well as a branch of managers and a CEO. It couldn't have been done without the charity and generosity of the city. The Home was ready for accepting the children the very next day after the night-do with the newly-found big-wigs of New York City.

On the streets, everybody was recognised as survivors and nobody thought to argue any different or to even consider who fought a better fight against the walkers. There was respect given and respect received. There was equality. But the City was tired. Everybody was still tired. Five years had been a lot of fighting. Electricity was still hard to keep constant but there was gas and there was solar power. The City made it through. They survived again some how. In Europe, they were pulling through too. Asia still struggled but in recent weeks, it was definitely coming to the tail-end of the war. There were political broadcasts all over the globe and news reports of countries surviving and being walker-free for so long.

In a few short weeks, it reached the news. America's Government had developed the virus in association with W.H.O and C.D.C which caused the outbreak. It was leaked into water lines and soon, the entire world was infected. Each person that died, reanimated within hours. A Senator issued an apology to the United States press that the virus was a poor attempt to tackle overpopulation in only North America but had spread throughout the world. Later that day, the Senator resigned from his new post. There were riots in the newly-forming streets. Eventually, things quietened down as families became reunited with thanks to the Government in attempt of further apology.

Rick had found Judith and Maggie and Glenn. They were directed back to the farm freely after the apology was released. There were little rules in where people had to stay unlike the beginning. They lived happily at the farm together. Maggie missed Beth everyday and wrote letters, apologising too many times for the way things had been left. It was sent anonymous in the mail, winding up wherever it did. The shack was regularly checked but the door was always locked and there was never any kind of movement inside. She was really gone. Rick was Sheriff of the town again and Glenn was his was left in charge of the animals and looking after Judith. Michonne stayed at home for a while before getting a job as a traffic warden in the city. Abraham learned to walk without his foot and came across Eugene again in the grocery store. The two later moved in together with Tara and Rosita. Judith had gotten big and was talking in abundances. Everybody was really close knit back in Georgia. The days were too busy to stop and be sad about those they had lost. Only when Maggie wrote her weekly letter she was then able to vent everything. In the most recent letter sent on December twenty-ninth, Maggie revealed to her lost sister how she and Glenn were expecting a child. It was returned to the house with 'Return to Sender' stamped on the front of the envelope.


In New York on the cold and blustery winters night, the opening do of the Orphanage took place. It was grand. Crowds flocked in and gave their appreciations to the anonymous CEO who penned the idea on the back of a napkin in a biker-bar just West of Pennsylvania. The original napkin was framed in the front foyer of the Orphanage, surrounded by ink drawings of those lost before the CEO. It gave the Home an air of familiarity and relation for the children. They could look up at the art and try to decipher who they were to their saviour. A young woman with flowing hair, a rustic man with a cheeky snarl, a man with a scruffy bucket hat and fun shirt, a sheriff. Key people in the man's life.

Upstairs in the main office, a smart shirt and pants had been laid on and shoes had been polished. 'Like a monkey in a suit' was the thought that crossed his mind when he looked in the mirror by the door. He had never worn smart clothes in his life. He had never been able to see his reflection in a pair of shoes either. He was half-canned already and had showered to rid himself of the stench but it followed him. To those down in the main party, he was just another guest who had gotten lost looking for the bathroom. The employees didn't even know who their boss was. He didn't like to think of himself as the boss. Just a guy who wanted to better a few kids' life is all. He'd been where they were. Alone and scared and not knowing if they'd see the next day. But here, they'd have all the protection and company they could want. All the games in the world and crafts to make them sick at the sight of paint and feathers. A heavy sigh came from his chest and his hazy eyes were rubbed hard to brighten himself up. 'Make it through. Just for the kids.' He told himself.

On the other side of Central Park, she sat in a bar with a guitar on her knee. She played melodies and songs in the little bar. The crowd barely paid attention through the set but they applauded when she had finished. She worked all day in the bar and then on their open-mic that night. She was passionate, doing what she loved in the city she adored so. Her plan for when she finished up was to head home and sleep right through until the end of the weekend. All the nights of running and keeping watch and keeping herself safe had caught up to her just like jet-lag. She devoured a plate of wings after putting her guitar into its case and locking it for the night. It was breezy outside but she didn't seem to mind. The walk back to her apartment in Brooklyn was nice and let her unwind the perfect amount before her head hit the pillow. It was barely an hours walk if she didn't stop to document everything she saw. The bridge. The buildings and the skyline. Each picture she took was pinned to her studio apartment wall. She seen it every morning when she woke. It reminded her of the beauty that she was surrounded by. Last call came by half eleven and she made a move out onto the street. The sky had no clouds. It was going to be a cold one.