Thank you for reading! This is another short chapter but the next will be longer.
I don't own the walking dead, its characters or story lines. All OC characters and story lines are mine :)
ENJOY!
Philip POV: the man formerly known as the Governor.
Philip opened his remaining eye slowly, blinking into consciousness. He lay in a field Martinez and he had set up camp in. Philip's head and shoulder throbbed. Standing up he looking into the side mirror of their truck. The gaping wound on his face was vicious. Some asshole had shot him in his cheek and blew his ear off. Philip knew he could quite possibly die from the injury. The shoulder injury alone caused a major loss of blood but the face and ear wound? Well that was just in dire need of surgical repair and that just wasn't happening anytime soon.
He had also lost hearing in that ear. The gunshot had not only taken the exterior ear but his eardrum was blown. If he could find the person who shot him, Philip would gut them six ways from Sunday.
He wandered around the makeshift camp and realized Martinez was nowhere in sight. Narrowing his eye he noticed Martinez's pack along with all their supplies was gone.
"Motherfucker," Philip hissed causing him to grimace in pain from the face injury. Philip sneered and the military truck. All he had left was the truck. Pacing around the vehicle he formulated a plan. He had to get medical supplies. He felt if he had the right antibiotics and first aid supplies he could make do without a medical professional.
"Keep it clean and let it heal." He muttered without moving his mouth. Philip looked back into the mirror and turned his head. "You'll look like some gotham city super villain," he thought and chuckled darkly.
Probing the shoulder injury he winced. That gunshot was less problematic but it still hurt like a motherfucker. It was a through and through. Not fragments to dig out. It would take time to heal though and his movement was limited in his right arm now.
"Fuck," he grunted while climbing into the drivers seat. The only place Philip knew he could get supplies from was Woodbury. The pussies from the prison may have raided it but no one knew about his secret stash. Not even motherfucking Merle.
Philip glowered at the road as he drove over it, the cracked black top blistering in the sun. If he ever got hands on Merle he would cut every limb off with a rust hacksaw. He wanted to go to the prison and burn the whole place to the ground. Philip wanted to watch it burn until it was smoldering ruin in the ground. He wanted to pour gasoline on the ashes and burn it all again. Scald the earth's surface with his pure fury. Philip felt it in his veins. In his chest. A bed full of hot coals just broiling inside him.
Glancing in the review mirror he catches sight of the thing looking back. His once handsome round face now torn apart into some kind of gruesome inner demon revel. It was ironic that he perfected Woodbury, perfected the Governor, a façade to hide his dark proclivities and ended up looking just like the monster he was inside. There was no hiding it now. The shooter may not have killed him but they had destroyed his ability to mask the beast. Philip looked like the two faced devil he truly was. Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
Pulling into Woodbury slowly he saw the gates were left open. Walkers were roaming around and shuffling into the open doorways of buildings.
'Fuckers,' he hissed while driving to the medical clinic. Philip hopped out quickly and headed inside only to discover it had been wiped out. Growling he stomped out and headed to his apartment for the hidden stash he kept. Once inside he climbed the stairs quickly and locked the door behind him. The closet in his guest bedroom had a hidden panel where he kept a cache of emergency supplies. He got to work cleaning and bandaging his face. The cheek and ear were going to scar over and most likely make talking and eating difficult. There was a visible hole from the inside of his mouth to the cheek, his teeth clearly showing from the side. He hoped it would fill in or something otherwise eating would be a chore. The wounds were weeping and pretty disgusting even for him. Once his face was done he cleaned his shoulder and dressed it.
He packed his bags and gathered anything important he wanted to keep and set everything by the door. Philip entertained the idea of staying there overnight to rest up but the likelihood of someone coming there looking for him was high so he chose to leave. He did however decide no one else was getting Woodbury. He couldn't have it or keep it so no else was going to. Walking downstairs he loaded up a small truck and then headed into the building again. He grabbed a wastebasket and filled it with loose paper and paperback books. Pouring the rest of his whiskey over it after taking a few healthy swigs, Philip lit the basket on fire. He set it next to the curtains and watched as the flames licked their way up the gauzy fabric. Once the room was uncomfortably warm Philip left and head across the street to start another building ablaze. One on each side should cause the whole town to go.
An hour later Philip sat in his truck watching the glow from the Woodbury fire at a safe distance. Walkers began pouring into the area as the buildings burned, drawn to the bright lights and crumbling structures. Dark thick smoke rose into the sky and filled the air with a burnt rubber smell. Turning the smaller truck around and driving in the opposite direction Philip headed away from the town, away from the prison and toward a new goal. He may have lost his town. He may have lost all his pathetic sheep but he hadn't lost his desire for vengeance. Philip would go back to that prison eventually. He'd go back and kill every single one of those assholes.
'No one takes what mine and lives. No one.' He growls inwardly while wringing the steering wheel with white knuckled fists.
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