[ xxi. don't hesitate ]

june 29th, 2012

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ASTRID LANCASTER'S SKULL MET the cold, unfeeling concrete floor as the world ruptured. The ground trembled beneath her, vibrating with the rumble of an explosion that sounded so very near.

Through a haze of fresh disorientation, she fought to regain her bearings. Her eyes soon settled upon Daryl, who lay sprawled beside her, still straining against the zip ties that still bound him. Then, with a deeper, gradual investigation of her surroundings, she also discovered Rick, his back turned to her. Her focus sharpened when she spotted something clutched in his hands—a wooden stake. A sly, triumphant smirk crept across her face.

Elsewhere, the cannibals clambered unsteadily to their feet. Gareth's walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Gareth, do you copy?"

But the leader of Terminus, for his part, remained mute on the line. Instead, he barked orders to his workers. "You two, stay here," He commanded.

One of his henchmen, the man clutching the baseball bat, hesitated. "But these guys aren't going anywhere," He protested.

"Just stay here until I know what's happening!" Gareth retorted sharply, leaving the reluctant man with little other choice. He trudged toward the exit of the warehouse and vanished from sight, leaving Astrid and the others alone once more with their captors.

The two men eventually retrieved their weapons and hauled the captives back to their knees, suspended precariously back over the trough. Glenn was hoisted with ease, but Daryl's spirit remained unbroken. When they finally raised the struggling hunter, they ruthlessly shoved him against the steel trough, and he emitted a guttural grunt of pain. Astrid yelped in surprise at his cry, but before she could react further, the hands of their would-be seized her next, causing her to gasp in agony as fingers unknowingly dug into her injured side.

Daryl, though still muffled by his gag, growled ferally, "Get . . . off . . . 'er!"

Rick was lifted next in line, his hands noticeably untied, though he still held them together as if they were not. Astrid's neck ached as she watched him, her shoulders burned from the incessant trembling, and a deep breath offered little comfort. She strained to hear the faint gunfire that had resumed from outside, bracing herself for another explosion that seemed inevitable.

The Lancaster woman keenly perceived the mounting unease festering within their captors, underscored by the growing violence that echoed from outside the warehouse's walls. The man wielding the butcher's knives, in particular, exhibited a visible tremor of fear. He stooped to retrieve another walkie-talkie, his voice nervous as he addressed into the static, "You there, Gareth?"

"He's busy," The other grumbled.

The former pivoted abruptly, his eyes aflame. "You smell the smoke? You hear the shots?" He demanded. "He could be dead! What the hell are we doing here? The whole place could be going up!"

The man bearing a baseball bat sighed in reluctant compliance and shifted away from the trough, turning to his friend, who remained with his back to him. "You went on one roundup, and you blew protocol. We don't deal with security. That ain't our job. This is," He asserted firmly. "Hey, look at me."

With those words, Rick sprang to his feet, leaving Astrid behind. She watched as he lunged at the unsuspecting man with the baseball bat, thrusting the wooden stake into his throat. The man's hold on his own weapon faltered, and he fell, dead. Meanwhile, the man with the knives, gripped by shock, raised his hands in a futile plea for mercy, but mercy was not on the menu. Rick pressed the stuttering man against the nearby wall, driving the stake into his chest, and concluded the grisly deed with a final, fatal stab to the throat.

Astrid exhaled a tremulous breath of relief as she realized that, for the moment, their safety had been secured. Rick returned to their sides and worked swiftly to free them from their restraints. As Astrid regained her footing and pulled the gag from her teeth, her fingers massaged her blistered wrists. "Is everyone all right?" She asked.

Rick nodded. "If they've got problems on the outside, then we've got a chance to get out of here."

"It sounded like a bomb," Glenn noted, referencing the explosive blast.

Astrid scoffed. "Sounds like a damn war."

She suddenly moved away from the bloody trough, drawn to an operating table that had yet to claim a body. With a fluid motion, she retrieved two gleaming butcher knives, one for each hand, and slid a smaller blade into her back pocket. Bob's anxious voice lingered behind her. "What the hell are these people?" He questioned.

"They ain't people," Daryl muttered in disgust. "Farthest thing from 'em."

Rick cleared his throat, swiping at the rivulets of blood dribbling down his cheek. "We need to keep moving," He urged. "Let's go."

Astrid huddled close to her hunter, trailing behind Rick as they navigated through the nearest door, and descended into a horrific basement. The shadowy room was frigid, betraying its purpose as a freezer for meat, but even so, the sight of chunks of human flesh suspended from the ceiling still triggered a guttural gag from the Lancaster woman. Chills cascaded up and down her spine as she surveyed the area. "Jesus," She breathed.

"Cross any of these people, you kill them," Rick instructed sternly. "Don't hesitate."

As she walked deeper into the freezer, Astrid's eyes fell upon a machete propped against the wall, prompting her to abandon the two knives she had been clutching and reach for the larger blade. With a careful swing, she tested its weight before turning to the others, her attention falling to Daryl as he yanked a steel pole from a nearby grill. "The others," She addressed. "Think they're still in the train car?"

"We'll check there first," Rick answered. "If not, we go find them and then get out of here."

Nodding in silent agreement, Astrid crossed the room towards the nearest door, daylight beckoning. As she neared the exit, distant shouts reached her ears, and she looked over Glenn's shoulder, peering through a narrow window to see an abandoned train car—much like their own—surrounded by a pack of walkers.

Distantly, Astrid realized that meant the walls of Terminus had been breached.

"We've got to let those people out," Glenn insisted.

Rick had an alternate strategy in mind. "If we run, we can get past them," He reasoned. "They're distracted, which means—"

"Rick," Glenn interjected firmly, a rebuke that left their leader momentarily silenced. "That's still who we are . . . It's got to be."

Astrid swallowed hard, pondering her friend's words. Empathy and humanity had to prevail here. They had to put themselves in the shoes of those imprisoned. They could not abandon fellow survivors, not when the world outside was crumbling. Her gaze shifted between Rick and the train car. "He's right," She said. "We've got to help those people."

Rick exhaled sharply. But he did not protest again. With a heavy push, he flung the door open and dashed out into the open courtyard. The others followed suit. Eight walkers had congregated around the train car, but upon seeing the approaching rescuers, the dead turned back. Astrid was ready for them. Her machete cleaved through one walker's skull, and she promptly killed another, shattering its cranium underfoot. After, she turned to find the remaining walkers taken down, and soon Glenn was swinging the train car's rusted door open.

Astrid dared a wary glance into the inky depths of the box, squinting. Suddenly, a massive figure sprung from the darkness, surging toward her with feral intensity. She staggered backward, but her response was not swift enough to evade the clutches of a disheveled, bearded man who seized her shoulders and began shaking her violently. "We're the same! We're them!" He babbled, his mirthless laughter mingling with the blood that coated his lips.

Astrid struggled to break free. "Get the hell off me!" She shouted.

In an instant, the manic man crumpled to the ground, executed by a decisive, stabbing blow to the head. Daryl was immediately at her side, pulling her away. "You 'lright?" He asked.

Astrid kicked the body aside, her breathing ragged. "I'm fine," She affirmed shakily. "Thanks."

Brushing her hands off on her pants, she prepared to press onward, only to be yanked backward and thrust against the train car once more. Her hunter's large left hand pressed firmly against her chest, his fingers clenching the fabric of her shirt. They were so close, from the waist down their bodies were pressed together, and his warm breath tickled her neck. She looked upon him with a furrowed brow, but his attention went past her.

Confused, she turned her head to follow, peeking around the corner of the train car. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. "Shit," She cursed.

Several yards away, a swarm of walkers lumbered up the alley. Astrid swallowed, her mind racing to concoct a plan, when Bob's suggestion cut through. "We've got to double back."

"A is that way," Rick argued, pointing toward the approaching horde. "If we go back, we don't know where we are."

"Well, what else can we do, Rick?" Astrid countered. "We can't take on a whole pack of those things with just kitchen knives."

The crack of new gunfire shattered any potential form of discussion, prompting her to duck instinctively, expecting the bullets to be aimed her way. Peering around the corner once more, she was astonished to see the walkers dropping rapidly. Out of nowhere, seven Terminans, armed with assault rifles, had descended upon the herd, methodically mowing them down.

Rick perked up at the sight. "Wait here!" He commanded.

Before any of them could voice their concerns, Rick bolted deeper into the courtyard. As he sheltered behind a nearby car, Astrid watched on, unable to discern his plan. Then, she noticed a lone walker creeping up on him. Gasping, she disregarded Daryl's sharp, frantic warnings and sprinted after Rick, wriggling from her hunter's grasp.

"Astrid!" Daryl's urgent call echoed behind her. "Get the hell back here!"

The Lancaster woman closed in on the walker and plunged her machete through the back of its head, reducing it to a lifeless pulp. Rick whirled around, and she simply nodded, crouching beside him. "Whatever you plan on doing, you're not doing it alone," She declared, her hand steady on his shoulder. Her gaze then swept over the makeshift militia of Terminans as they finished off the undead pack. "So, what's the plan?"

The question soon answered itself.

The soldiers pressed onward, but as they advanced, a subtle shadow fell behind, barely perceptible among the ranks. Astrid's eyes locked onto the straggler, a man whose fate was now sealed. Rick approached with the swiftness of a predator, stalking his unsuspecting prey. In the blink of an eye, he pounced, a single slash severing the man's throat before he could even utter a cry.

Rick secured the man's gun, then unleashed a torrent of lethal fire upon the militia ahead, their lives taken before their bodies even kissed the blood-soaked ground. A sigh swept through Astrid, yet her elation was short-lived. Another lone soldier crept forward from a nearby building, a knife glinting malevolently in the sunlight.

Astrid's breath caught in her throat, and without hesitation, she catapulted herself between Rick and the approaching assailant, her machete poised like a reaper's scythe. The man attempted a counterstrike, but Astrid's quickness prevailed, her blade slicing cleanly through the man's arm, leaving a bloody, screaming mess in its wake. But she was not done yet.

Don't hesitate.

While the man writhed upright, clutching the gory stump of his former hand, Astrid tightened her grip on her machete. Her sweat-slick palms were no match as she swung the weapon over her shoulder as if it were no more than a baseball bat. With a powerful swing, she brought the blade forward and beheaded the man. His severed head arced through the air until it was lost in the smoke.

It happened so quickly. In the aftermath, Astrid stood there, seemingly frozen as the headless body slumped to the ground at her feet, blood pooling around it. Her startled eyes drifted to the gruesome instrument she held, the once-pristine blade now drenched.

Rick regarded her as he returned to her side, but he wisely chose to remain silent, stooping to retrieve more ammunition. As Astrid lifted her head, he tossed her an extra pistol. "Let's keep moving!" He roared, summoning Glenn, Daryl, and Bob forward.

The other men approached and cast their eyes toward the decapitated body before glancing carefully at Astrid. She avoided their probing stares—particularly that of her hunter's—and opted instead to join Rick. Unbeknownst to even herself now, her feet pounded the ground with newfound purpose, propelled by pure adrenaline.

They dashed through the winding maze of Terminus, and soon the familiar sight of train car A came into view. Now, all Astrid could do was hope and pray that each member of her group was still imprisoned within. Walkers swarmed the vicinity by the dozens, but their attention was drawn to the massive flames that raged atop the nearby buildings.

Astrid was impressed by the scene. Whoever the orchestrators of this audacious attack were, they were nothing short of miraculous; such strangers had, in essence, become their saviors.

Rick ascended the short, wooden steps to the train car and wrenched the door open. Relief washed over Astrid as her eyes landed on familiar faces within. All were accounted for. "Come on!" Rick bellowed, reaching out to pluck Carl from the midst. "We fight to the fence!"

One by one, the trapped survivors spilled out of the train car, poised to attack any walker that dared cross their path. Maggie impaled a walker with a simple wooden stake, while Rosita lethally swung her spiked earrings at any rotten hands that dared to try and grab her.

Astrid cast a quick look over her shoulder as they began to flee from the train car and make their way up the outskirts of the compound, noting the walkers who were still pursuing them. She raised her pistol, ending one of the nearest to them with a bullet to the head—all the while splattering herself and Carl with its blood. She wiped the tainted gore from her face before thrusting the gun into the boy's empty hands. "Take it!" She ordered, nudging him toward the fence. "Let's go!"

Rosita reached the fence first and hastily flung a tarp over the barbed wire, providing them a precarious passage. "Up and over!" She barked, extending a hand to aid Tara and Sasha.

One by one, their group scaled the fence, vanishing into the safety of the other side. Meanwhile, still one of the few lingering within the complex, Astrid shot another watchful glance over her shoulder, her gaze going toward the roof of the nearest building. There, she beheld Gareth and several other Terminan snipers trying to pick them off with gunfire. But their efforts were in vain against Rick, who continued to pour deadly fire back down upon them.

Then, in a sudden twist, Gareth reeled backward, clutching at his chest, as if struck, before plummeting to the ground.

Rick had killed Gareth, Astrid proudly thought. He did it.

"Let's go!" Daryl called, ripping the Lancaster woman from her momentary celebration. She observed as Michonne nimbly vaulted the fence, followed by Abraham and Carl, the former who boosted the teenager up and over. Astrid clung to the fence now, prepared to make her own leap, when strong hands gripped her waist, launching her easily over the obstacle. She barely had time to regain her balance on the other side before her hunter landed gracefully beside her.

Rick was seemingly the last to follow. Astrid looked around, scanning faces, before she hollered above the gunfire, the walkers, and the crackling of burning buildings collapsing. "Is that everyone?" She cried out.

Abraham surveyed their numbers, nodded, and briskly retreated from the rattling chain-link fence where walkers had begun to gather. "That's everyone," He confirmed. "We need to move!"

Astrid and the others did not need to be told twice.

And so, with that, they fled.

~~~~~~~~~~