She walked the drainage ditch between the road and the woods lining it, looking down the faded pavement onto the horizon.
She was in the wilderness, now. Just lonesome roads lined with trees. If she kept on this road, in five miles she'd end up at the fork- North, to the subdivision and the bridge, but preferably East for another three miles, towards the deserted little town Enid had mentioned with the antique shop she could hole up in for the night.
It'd been awhile since she'd been outside. Months, really. It was unnerving, being out here, alone. She'd grown used to being outside the walls, but only with the company of either her father and Eric. And she'd grown used to being lonely, within the walls, ever since her Father had been taken. But she'd been used to neither together.
This was really it.
The wind rippled through the leaves, and for the fifth time that day she found herself stopping, eyeing the area around her tensely.
The wind in the brush drowned out any noise of the approaching dead, and she despised it.
She took a deep breath and kept walking, though she kept her bow loaded.
An uneasy hiss of her breath met with the whistling wind through the trees. She was truly alone.
She thought of her father- of his note. Of how he was doing. She imagined the look on his face when he saw her.
Something moved in the distance, and she frowned, looking up. A walker stumbled out of the woods and onto the road, turning to look at her and snarling through shredded lips that revealed moldering teeth.
She let the arrow fly, surprised when it hit the walker in the shoulder.
She took a breath, stepping back, and fumbled with her quiver, reloading. The walker was fifteen feet away, now, and she paused, taking another breath and pulling back, holding still for one second, two,e as she aimed, before letting it fly. Her arrow hit it through the right eye this time, and the walker dropped.
She waited one tense moment, two, before deciding it must've been alone and moving, pulling her arrows out.
She hadn't shot her bow in a long time. Archery was another common factor that tied her to Daryl- something that Negan didn't need to see. Something she hadn't had the spirit to do, anyways, since all it did was remind her of the times outside the fence spent with Aaron and her father.
She put her boot onto the corpse's chest and pulled- with a sucking and a spattering of rancid crimson, she was grimier- she had her arrow back.
That was the other possibility. She caved the the dead- to the world out here. She got bit, got caught, or got hurt, and bit the dust. She died, came back, and walked the Earth as a mindless member of the undead legions that walked this Earth. And her father didn't even know she was dead, let alone where her corpse wandered. He'd have no way to find her, no way to bury her. Hell, he probably wouldn't even realize she was dead until the war started, when Daryl and Rick managed to rendezvous.
She looked down at the corpse on the ground sullenly, before she walked on. She was going to get to her father- and she was going to end this the way she started- alive.
She reached the fork in the road, pausing. She had three hours of sunlight left, tops. She chose the East route, as Enid had suggested. Game was scarce along the road, and the promise of food and a safe place for the night was alluring.
Dusk was setting in by the time she could see the town in the distance.
The darkness seemed to be closing in around her, and she moved her pace to a jog as she headed down the main street.
Papers and litter skittered across the deserted pavement, and on the horizon- just past the line of gray- she could see figures moving against the grey.
Something stumbled out of an alley to her right, fingers swiping at her arm- she ducked to the slide, speeding her jog to a run and glancing up frantically. She saw an old, beaten looking rocking chair, and a dusty sign which she guess boasted of antiques, and threw the heavy door open, closing the door behind her and fumbling with the lock, grabbing a chair and stuffing it beneath the knob as reassurance.
Shelving covered with old dusty dishes and old hardwood cabinets and sofas lined the room. Dusty vases and other things lit the place up, and bookshelves filled with tiny glass figurines caught her eye. She strode over, looking carefully. An orange rooster and a milky white cat caught her eye, and she grabbed both, running her fingers over them absently before she was sliding them into her pocket.
She took a deep breath, climbing the rickety stairs to the second floor. She made her way over to the dusty window, raising a hand and smearing a hole in the grime on the glass to watch the town below.
The walker that'd stumbled out behind her aimlessly stumbled into the street. In the distance, on the darkness of the horizon, the specks grew bigger. She swallowed, watching in muted horror as the herd- at least forty of them- approached and swarmed the main drag, the streets.
Dread rose within her like vomit. She strode over to the old china cabinet central to the room, sliding open the bottom cupboard. She was greeted with labeless cans.
She flicked on her zippo, darting back downstairs and doing a quick sweep of the perimeter. The back door was locked, and once she was satisfied, she headed back upstairs, flicking her zippo closed, the flame dying.
She sighed, grabbing a can and sinking her knife into the lid. She didn't know what it was until she grabbing a handful out it and putting it to her lips. It was chili.
She made her way over tot he window. There was a bang from somewhere outside- she shuddered, watching the dead swarm the street below. She wasn't going to be sleeping tonight, that was for sure.
She put the can to her lips, taking a mouthful of chili and chewing, despite not being hungry, sipping water.
She flicked the lighter back on, pulling the folded map from her pocket and watching the golden light dancing off the paper.
She paused, listening to the sound of trashcans getting knocked over outside. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding before she was turning back towards the map, struggling to make out the various handwritings in the flame.
There was no way she was getting through this town. As much as she wanted to, it was virtually impossible. The only feasible way to get through a herd that agitated and densely packed would to to cover herself in entrails.
But with all the walkers so densely packed in the main street, she had no way to isolate and kill one without risking having the whole herd on her. This was it- she was pinned down. No getting through the town.
She fingered the paper carefully.
Enid had highlighted two routes running parallel to one another- the subdivision and the bridge that led to the kingdom was north. If she headed north, blazing through uncharted territory- tomorrow- she might be able to ditch the herd altogether and get back on track.
That was what she'd do.
She refolded the map, sliding it back into her pocket, and took a deep breath, steadying herself. She was here. She was going to get out of this dead-infested town in the morning.
She looked down longingly at her lighter- she didn't want to be alone in the dark. But she was wasting lighter fluid, and she flicked it closed with much sadness, and let herself grow accustomed to the darkness.
She leaned against the wall beside the window, letting her head loll back. Clumsy, undead feet scraped over the wooden boards of the porch outside, and she jolted forward, listening to them dissipate before she was settling back down. It was going to be a long night.