[ lv. killing gets easier ]

july 12th, 2011

➸➸➸

TODAY WAS THE DAY.

Today, the lives of Astrid Lancaster and her group hung in the balance. The impending war with Woodbury had cast a long shadow over their sanctuary, and they now braced themselves for the inevitable onslaught. Every spare second was devoted to shoring up their defenses, turning the prison into a formidable fortress.

On the eve of battle, Astrid, Glenn, and Maggie were chosen to guard the frontline, stationed above the courtyard to execute a lethal ambush. Below, in the foreboding tombs, the others would lay in wait, their own presence a silent trap and promise of retribution. Meanwhile, the vulnerable—Carl, Hershel, Beth, and baby Judith—would remain concealed in the outskirts of the surrounding forest, biding their time until the fighting had passed.

"Is this too loose?" Maggie asked, yanking Astrid from her thoughts. She fastened the riot gear vest carefully onto the Lancaster woman's frame.

"It's fine," Astrid responded as she donned the riot gear's padded pants, securing the arm and leg guards. Fully clad in the armor of war, she stood ready for the Governor's assault. It then became her turn to assist Maggie. The atmosphere hung heavy as Astrid worked diligently, pulling the straps tight.

After a moment, Maggie swallowed awkwardly, her gaze fixed on a familiar face emerging into the courtyard. "How's Daryl?" She asked softly.

Astrid's countenance darkened, her fingers freezing in place over a buckle. "I don't know," She admitted. "He wouldn't say a word the entire way back. He wouldn't let me help bury Merle either. And last night, he didn't come to bed. I don't think he got any sleep. He's not coping well, and I don't know what to do."

"He's grieving," Maggie explained, gently pulling away as Astrid completed fastening her vest. "Just think about it, he finally got his brother back, only to lose him again. You have to expect this kind of reaction from him. He's not made of stone, Astrid."

"I know that," Astrid grumbled, frustration lacing her words. "But I've never seen him like this. He's never ignored me or avoided me like this before. I want to help him, but I just don't know how."

"Go talk to him," She suggested.

Astrid hesitated, her brows furrowing deeply. "And say what?" She returned. "Maybe it's best if I just give him space."

"Go talk to him," Maggie reiterated firmly, her hands resting on Astrid's shoulders as she urged her forward. "Now."

Rolling her eyes, Astrid complied, sidestepping Rick, who was engrossed in a tense exchange with a resentful Carl. She crossed over to Daryl, who sat on the ground beside his motorcycle, sorting his belongings. Her fingers gently threaded through his hair, offering a comforting touch. "You ready for today?" She asked softly.

Daryl's response was a low hum as he chewed on his bottom lip, his focus on stuffing wrenches into a bag hanging on the side of his bike.

"You don't have to be," Astrid reminded him, her voice steady but laced with genuine concern. "You lost your brother. I know what you're going through. I'm just worried about you. You have to talk to me."

"I don't have to do nothin'," Daryl snapped, the mention of his older brother's name igniting a spark of anger in him. Astrid quickly realized that bringing up Merle probably was not doing any of them any good. Then Daryl sighed heavily, his gaze finally rising to meet hers, regret suddenly etched in his eyes. "You know, Merle never did nothin' like that in his whole life."

"Most people don't get to die in this world over something worth fighting for," She whispered. "Merle gave us a chance. A fighting chance. Before he died, he told me to take care of you, and I will. I always will take care of you, Daryl. Especially now." Unbeknownst to Astrid, tears had welled up in her eyes, shimmering. She quickly blinked them away and extended her hand towards him. "Come on," She said softly.

Daryl's rough fingers slipped into hers, and as she pulled him up to his feet, he surprised her by clutching her waist, holding her in place. The Lancaster woman turned to face him, his eyes fiercely locked onto hers.

"Hey, I hope you know that I'm always goin' to take care of you, too," He told her.

A soft, genuine smile graced Astrid's lip. "That's good to know," She remarked, and Daryl scoffed, a hint of amusement—and life—returning to his eyes. They began walking towards the other members of the group, who lingered deeper in the courtyard. Beth was maneuvering a car forward, containing her little group that would be hiding out in the woods. Astrid nodded at the teenage girl as she passed. In a matter of seconds, the car disappeared from sight, concealed among the dense trees. Astrid could only hope that they would be safe out there.

Rick swallowed hard from where he stood beside Michonne. "Stay hidden and stay safe. We don't know how many will come—but shoot to kill," He addressed. "Let's get into place."

With purpose, Rick led the way toward the cell block. Most of the group followed closely, except for Daryl, who lingered at Astrid's side. He enveloped her in a tight hug, and she willingly surrendered, her face buried in the protective crook of his neck. Her lips brushed against his skin as she whispered in his ear, "Be careful."

Daryl nodded. "You too," He said sternly before pulling back slightly, his hands cradling her face. "Don't do anythin' stupid, or anythin' that'll get you killed, Lancaster."

"No promises, Dixon," She retorted with a half-smile.

Daryl huffed, his eyes locked onto Astrid's. "I'll see you soon," He vowed, before bending down to press his lips fervently to hers. As he pulled away, he scanned her features one last time, before breaking into a jog to catch up with Rick and the others.

Astrid watched him go, a tight pang of longing and worry gripping her chest. Yet, she refused to let it get the better of her. This would not be their final parting. Daryl would come back to her, just as she would return to him. The Governor's wrath would not succeed in tearing them apart.

"Astrid, let's go!" Glenn's urgent call snapped her back to the present.

She swiftly pivoted to find Glenn and Maggie already securing their positions above the courtyard. Astrid slung her assault rifle over her shoulder and firmly placed the riot gear helmet upon her head. Climbing the steps that led to a chain-linked catwalk, she moved quickly. Gaps in the catwalk were fortified with several planks of wood and steel tabletops, offering protection from stray bullets. As she dropped to her knees, Astrid lost sight of Glenn and Maggie, her focus narrowing to the task at hand—making last-minute checks on her weapons and ammunition.

It was not long before Astrid heard the rumble of engines. She cautiously peered through a slender gap in a weathered wooden plank, her eyes widening in disbelief as four massive military trucks careened into the prison yard. The ensuing chaos was like a nightmare brought to life. A deafening explosion shattered the stillness as a grenade hurled into a nearby guard tower sent fiery remnants raining down, transforming the serene yard into a battleground all its own.

Without warning, a thunder of bullets erupted, forcing Astrid to instinctively duck her head as a soldier from the Governor's army unleashed a torrent of gunfire from a menacing machine gun, assaulting the prison with a hail of lead.

With hardly any effort, the invading militia systematically cleared the yard of the undead, their synchronized movements betraying a well-rehearsed, ruthless efficiency. Astrid's finger hovered anxiously over the trigger of her firearm, the promise of vengeance weighing heavily on her mind. They had a surprise, a deadly trap, poised and ready for these intruders, but her burning desire for retribution nearly threatened to consume her early.

She exchanged a fleeting glance with Glenn, who shook his head in silent restraint, a wordless plea to hold her fire. Astrid's blood boiled with rage, her heart pounding in her chest. She craved to see these invaders scatter and panic, to see them ensnared in the web of their own making, just as they had done to her people. She wanted revenge.

Reluctantly, Astrid watched as the enemy group penetrated the cell block and disappeared from her view entirely. Her grip tightened on her rifle, her breath shaky as she prayed for the safety of her hidden comrades below. Then, an ear-splitting explosion rocked the air, followed by a fresh barrage of gunfire. A blaring siren suddenly reverberated from within the besieged building.

A sinister smirk curled on the Lancaster woman's lips as horrified screams echoed from the bowels of the structure. Then the main entrance to the cell block abruptly swung back open, and frantic figures spilled into the courtyard.

Right into their trap.

"Now!" Glenn commanded.

"Get the hell out of here!" Astrid's scream roared from her lungs as she vaulted from her concealed position, unleashing a torrent of bullets upon the panicked adversaries below. Desperation filled the air as people darted and dodged, but she would grant them no escape. She reveled in the satisfaction of her shots finding their marks, sending invaders tumbling to the ground in lifeless heaps.

A singular, burning focus seized Astrid as she soon locked onto the Governor himself. All other foes faded into obscurity as she honed in on her target, determination to kill etched into her every fiber. The metallic clanging of bullets on the steel table shielding her provided discordant music to her ears. They had begun to shoot back at her. Swiftly, Astrid lowered her head, momentarily breaking her murderous onslaught, only to witness the Governor retreating to the safety of his car.

"Shit," She muttered under her breath. He was getting away.

The rest of the Governor's retreating militia scrambled back into their own vehicles, and within seconds, the caravan that had once swarmed the yard vanished from sight. A long minute paused. Astrid's ears still rang as she removed her helmet, letting her hair cascade over her shoulders. A heavy silence settled around her, a vastly different sound to the pandemonium that had reigned only moments earlier.

Of course, the quiet was short-lived. Maggie's head popped up. "We did it?" She asked, seeking confirmation.

Glenn materialized beside her, exhaustion etched across his face. "We did it," He affirmed, removing his own helmet. "Come on down."

Astrid breathed a sigh of relief as she laboriously pulled herself back to her feet, stubbornly ignoring the chorus of protests from her battered knees. Every step down the worn, rickety stairs hurt in some shape or form to the Lancaster woman. After today, she was ready to sleep through the next month.

Voices began to emanate from the entrance to the cell block once Astrid reached the courtyard. With a flicker of anticipation, Astrid's gaze locked onto a familiar figure jogging towards her. Daryl closed the distance between them. Without hesitation, she met him halfway, enfolding him in a tight embrace, her arms securely wrapped around his neck. His hands tenderly brushed over her hair and face before reluctantly parting. Concern etched into his features, he asked, "You okay?"

Astrid responded with a nod. "Took out a couple of assholes. What about you?"

"I'm fine," Daryl replied, his calloused hand finding purchase on the curve of her hip, his crossbow hanging loosely from the other.

Together, they approached Rick, who stood at the forefront, surveying the now-empty yard before them. His words hung in the air like a breath of disbelief, "We did it. We drove them out."

"We should go after them," Michonne declared.

"Yeah, we should finish it," Daryl agreed.

Maggie, her expression tinged with confusion, interjected, "It is finished. Didn't you see them hightail it out of here?"

"They could regroup," Astrid insisted.

"And we can't take that chance," Glenn chimed in. "He's not going to stop."

"We can't keep living like this," Carol huffed.

"So, we take the fight back to Woodbury?" Maggie questioned, glancing over at Glenn, whose bruised face still bore marks from their shared torture. "We barely made it back last time."

"We've got them on the run," Daryl reminded her. "We've got to do this now."

"Daryl's right," Astrid affirmed, her eyes blazing as she deftly swung her rifle from her back into her hands.

"Let's finish this."

➸➸➸

"HOLY SHIT." ASTRID'S BREATH caught in her throat as Daryl brought his motorcycle to a screeching halt on the roadside.

Rick and Michonne brought their own vehicle to a stop beside them. They all disembarked, their careful eyes trained on the bloody scene that sprawled before them. Just a short distance down the highway, the Governor's convoy of vehicles sat in eerie silence. Walkers feasted upon fresh corpses that lay scattered nearby.

Daryl and Michonne moved swiftly, their weapons ready, dispatching the nearby walkers. Astrid, meanwhile, fell into step alongside Rick, her grip tight on her firearm, wary of a potential ambush. As they approached one of the massive military trucks, her hand reached out to grasp the driver's side door handle.

In an instant, a figure lunged at the truck's window. Startled, Astrid's finger tightened around the trigger of her weapon, but before panic could consume her, Daryl's protective instinct kicked in. He grabbed her shoulder with a force that yanked her back, shielding her.

Rick wasted no time. With a commanding ferocity, he stormed to the truck, wrenching the door open and dragging the figure out onto the ground. "Are you alone?" He demanded.

The figure, revealed to be a trembling woman, could only nod in response, her hands raised in surrender. "Y-Yes," She stammered.

Daryl's eyes seared into the woman as if trying to decipher the truth in her fearful form. "What happened to the rest of them?" He questioned, tone edged with suspicion.

"H-He k-killed them," She whimpered.

Astrid furrowed her brow, puzzled by the Governor's apparent betrayal of his own army. Madness truly seemed to be the only constant in their new world. She lowered her gun slightly, curiosity mingling with caution. "What's your name?"

"Karen," The woman answered.

After an exhaustive search and interrogation led by Rick, the decision was made to press forward toward Woodbury. Unfinished business awaited them there. Rick aimed to confront the Governor, while Astrid's mission was to locate Andrea and convince her to return to the prison with them.

Once more, Astrid found herself riding on the back of Daryl's motorcycle, the night air biting at her skin. The decision to continue on their trek under the shroud of growing darkness gnawed at her, but there was no turning back now. As the miles rolled by, the imposing gates of Woodbury soon loomed in the distance. Among their group, Astrid was the only one who had not yet seen the fortress-like walls of Woodbury in person. Its aura of safety beckoned to her.

Daryl eventually brought the motorcycle to a stop again, the roar of its engine fading into an uneasy silence. Astrid and the others automatically turned their attention to Rick, who was meticulously gathering his weapons. "We don't know what to expect," He cautioned. "All the defenses could be down—or we might not even make it a foot inside. Stay low."

"Whoa," Karen protested, her scowl evident. "There are good people in there!"

"Right now, everyone is a threat," Daryl retorted firmly. "Now shut up." Karen looked taken aback, but Astrid found no surprise in her hunter's harsh tone. She understood his urgency to confront the Governor and exact vengeance for his brother's murder.

As they drew closer to the formidable walls, the night was shattered by the sudden, warning crack of a gunshot. The bullet struck perilously close to Astrid's feet, eliciting a startled jump from her. In an instant, she returned fire at the shadowy figures perched menacingly atop the wall. Daryl, too, reacted swiftly and pulled her into cover behind a mangled car. The rest of the group continued to engage the unseen adversaries above.

Amidst the chaos, Karen, against all reason, rose to her feet and called out, "Tyreese!"

"Get down!" Rick boomed as he forcefully pulled her back to her knees.

"Karen! Karen, are you okay?" A deep, familiar voice rang out.

Astrid peered through a shattered window of the car she currently hid behind to spot Tyreese, the man she and Carl had once rescued from the prison tombs, now miraculously alive and well atop the wall. At his side stood his sister, Sasha. A wave of relief washed over Astrid, knowing they would not harm them . . . At least, she hoped.

Karen managed to break free from Rick's grip once more, boldly rising to her feet again. "I'm fine!" She replied, stepping out from behind her own cover.

"Where's the Governor?" Tyreese asked.

"He fired on everyone," Karen explained. "He killed them all. These people saved me."

Elsewhere, Rick bit his lip, deep in contemplation, before taking a steadying breath and holstering his revolver. "We're coming out!" He announced.

Daryl hesitated momentarily but, with Astrid's silent assurance, he joined the group. Slowly, the gates of Woodbury creaked open, revealing Tyreese and Sasha on the ground at the entrance. They followed Karen cautiously. Tyreese scrutinized them closely and asked, "What're you doing here?"

"We were coming to finish this until we saw what the Governor did," Rick informed. "Karen said Andrea hopped the wall going for the prison. She never came."

Astrid's eyes widened in shock. "What?" She gasped, feeling utterly out of the loop. It dawned on her that Karen must have shared this crucial piece of information during the drive to Woodbury. Looking around, her heart weighed down with concern, she pleaded, "Is Andrea here? If she never made it to the prison . . . maybe she came back?"

"We haven't seen her," Sasha said somberly. "I'm sorry."

"Can we look, at least?" Astrid pressed. "The Governor was close to her. Maybe he's keeping her somewhere."

"There might be a place," Rick noted. "Follow me."

Without waiting for Tyreese or Sasha's consent, Rick forcefully pushed through the looming gates, and Astrid clutched her weapon close, trailing behind him. Her gaze swept over the surreal landscape of Woodbury, a tumultuous mix of amazement and trepidation swirling within her. Rick led them to an ordinary-looking brick building located toward the back of the town's seemingly pristine layout, and they ventured into a desolate and dark foyer. Tyreese and Sasha followed, their eyes wide with disbelief as they absorbed the shocking truth of the Governor's secret torture chamber.

At a weathered door, Rick paused. "This is where he had Glenn and Maggie," He murmured, his words trailing off as they turned a corner, entering a narrow corridor. Astrid's heart quickened as a faint thumping sound reached her ears from behind the door at the far end. Ignoring caution, she surged ahead of Rick and Daryl, her breath hitching when she noticed a sizable pool of blood oozing from beneath the door. "No," She whispered fearfully.

Summoning her courage, Astrid gingerly pushed the door open, revealing a dead walker in the center of the square chamber. A fleeting gasp of relief was followed by an agonizing realization as her eyes moved past the ghastly creature to a moving, living figure slumped against the wall. Horror gripped Astrid.

"Andrea!" She cried out.

Andrea Harrison's bloodshot eyes fluttered open briefly before slipping back into a dazed state. Gore stained most of the woman's body, and Astrid noticed her bare feet were bruised. Astrid dropped to her knees to gently cradle her friend and then began to stroke her soaking wet hair.

"I . . . I tried to stop them," Andrea mumbled weakly.

Astrid reached out to touch Andrea's forehead but recoiled instantly, a gasp escaping her lips. "You're burning up," She said in alarm. Andrea let out a weary sigh as she weakly pulled back her jacket, revealing a massive, swollen bite mark on her neck. Astrid's throat tightened in revulsion, and she closed her eyes. "Oh, my God . . ."

Andrea, resolute in the face of her impending fate, merely shrugged. Then she turned towards Rick, who stood above them. "Judith . . . Carl . . . The rest of them . . ."

"Us," Rick gently corrected. "The rest of us."

"Are they alive?" Andrea prodded, her voice filled with concern.

"They're alive," Astrid reassured, sending a soft smile her way.

In the wake of such news, Andrea's weakening smile lingered, her eyes fighting to stay open as the minutes slowly ticked away. She then turned towards Michonne, who knelt on her other side, her hand warmly placed on her knee. "It's good you found them," Andrea murmured. "No one can make it alone now."

"I never could," Daryl confessed in a husky rasp, his lips tense as he leaned against the threshold of the chamber.

Andrea nodded, her gaze returning to Rick. "I just didn't want anyone to die," She admitted, her vulnerability exposed. Reaching forward, her bloody hand found Astrid's, which cradled her pistol, a silent acknowledgment of the grim task ahead. "I can do it myself," She offered.

Astrid, though aware of the unchangeable nature of Andrea's situation, could not bring herself to confront the painful reality of losing another friend. Andrea had embraced her like a sister in those early Atlanta days, and now Astrid was faced with the agony of losing her once again. Sternly, the Lancaster woman shook her head. "No," She protested firmly, pulling her weapon away.

"I have to," Andrea insisted. "While I still can," She added, a tinge of desperation creeping into her voice. "Please?" 

"Andrea—"

"Make this choice with me."

Five simple words.  Only nine months ago, those words had saved a life.  Now, they were going to take one.

Stiffly, painfully, and yet without a fight, Andrea ultimately took the loaded gun from Astrid's hands.  Then she offered Rick a feeble smile. "I know how the safety works," She joked lightly, though the man's attempt to return the gesture faltered and cracked.

Astrid's lower lip quivered, but she held back tears. She could not cry anymore. She refused to. With a deep breath, she interlocked her fingers with Andrea's. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," She declared.

"Me either," Michonne affirmed supportively.

Andrea graced them with another gentle smile before turning back to Rick, her head shaking slightly in quiet acceptance. "I tried," She whispered.

"Yeah . . . you did," Rick sighed in response. Astrid understood that her leader had reached his breaking point, and she was proven right when she watched him rise to his feet, casting one last mournful look around the chamber before slipping silently outside. Daryl hesitated, sending a worried glance Astrid's way, but her reassuring nod gave him the strength to follow Rick, leaving Tyreese and Sasha waiting in the hallway.

In the cramped confines of the tiny chamber, only Michonne, Andrea, and Astrid now remained. Michonne's quiet sobs filled the space, her tears cascading down her face like a torrential rainstorm. In stark contrast, Astrid stood like stone, her voice unbroken—yet, unbeknownst to her, her eyes betrayed her turmoil within.

Astrid's hand extended. "It's okay," She soothed softly, fingers moving through Andrea's disheveled hair. "You're going to be okay. I'm right here."

Andrea, her once-vibrant spirit now dimmed, looked up at Astrid through a haze of blood and sweat. Her words left her in a cracked murmur. "Killing does get easier, I guess," She said, evoking memories of their recent conversation at the warehouse. "If I can do it to myself, at least."

Astrid's immediate response was a vehement shake of her head. Her admission came forth, laced with regret and sorrow, each word a struggle to utter. "I was wrong," She confessed. "Killing doesn't get easier . . . It only gets harder."

Andrea's only response was another somber tilt of her head. She drew a deep breath, her eyes moving from one face to the other. "Take care of yourselves out there," She said. "Thank you, Astrid . . . Thank you for everything. And thank you, Michonne. Don't worry about me. It's okay."

Michonne could only manage a feeble nod in response as Andrea deftly turned the safety off. Astrid's stomach churned as she watched Andrea's contemplative stare lock on her gun, her trembling hand revealing the true depth of her fear. In a different world, Andrea Harrison might have wished for anything but this ending, but in the reality that they now faced—perhaps, the blonde found comfort in knowing that she was finally going home to Amy.

After a pause, Andrea, her life flickering like a fragile flame, raised the cold, unfeeling barrel of the gun to the side of her head. Her finger coiled slowly around the trigger. In that heart-wrenching instant, Michonne, her eyes clouded with torment, could not seemingly bear to witness the culmination of this ending. But Astrid knew she could not look away now. She steeled herself, clinging desperately to the belief that some semblance of hope, of life, remained.

Everything was going to be okay.

It had to be.

Andrea's blue eyes, pools of lost dreams, locked onto Astrid. The former's unspoken nod conveyed a silent understanding, while her fading, reassuring smile was a final farewell—before the plunge into an unforgiving abyss.

In the breathless moment just before the gunshot shattered the silence, time hung suspended in a cruel stasis. Then, the deafening report of the firearm tore through the air, imprinting its mournful notes into the very fabric of two souls now left behind.

Amidst this devastation, Michonne's heart-wrenching wails erupted, each one a painful lament for a friendship, and world, irrevocably lost. Elsewhere, Astrid, her own heart—once a relentless, thunderous drumbeat—suddenly felt hollow.

As the gunshot's haunting echo waned, another sound punctuated the chilling aftermath. Astrid's gun, once clutched with desperate fervor, slipped easily from its former's grasp, surrendering to gravity's pull. Its descent, a melancholic, grinding thud against the concrete floor, marked the final ascent to tragedy.

Andrea Harrison was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~