[ v. rude awakenings ]

october 24th, 2010

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ASTRID AWOKE TO A tiny hand shaking her shoulder, and though the touch was gentle, whoever it was, was very, very intent on getting her out of bed.

She groaned softly as she turned in her bundle of borrowed blankets, desperately trying to salvage any last moment of slumber, but the effort was futile. There was sharp brightness beyond her closed lids, and Astrid could already feel the familiar Georgia heat seeping in through the tent's dark tarp. Once more, she felt a push against her arm, the relentless presence refusing to let her escape back into sleep.  With a final, forceful jolt, her eyes fluttered open, revealing a small figure looming over her—a figure with big blue eyes. Carl.

"You awake, Astrid?" The boy asked.

The woman in question struggled to gather her thoughts, her mind still foggy from the interruption of sleep. "I am now," She muttered through bleary eyes.

"Good. Glenn was starting to think you were dead." Carl grinned cheekily. "C'mon! Get up!"

Before Astrid could even protest, the boy darted away, leaving her bewildered and disoriented. She glanced at her wristwatch and her heart skipped a beat—it was almost noon. She had not slept that late into an afternoon since before the world decided to end. With a final groan of her tired body, Astrid swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, the borrowed blankets falling in disarray around her. Slipping her feet into her boots, she left her jacket behind, already feeling the oppressive heat of the summer seeping into her skin. It was going to be a grueling, hot day.  She could not wait for November when the final days of summer would be far behind her.

As Astrid eventually made her way out of the tent and back toward the camp center, she could not shake the feeling of eyes upon her. Reluctantly, she looked up, daring to meet a gaze, and surprised herself when she locked eyes with Rick Grimes, of all people.  His gaze was intense, but a polite smile graced his clean-shaven face as he wound an arm around his little son's shoulders. "Sleep well?" He called out to her.

"Better than I have in a long time," She replied as she walked closer. "How about you?"

"Very." He nodded. "Still miss my bed back home, though."

A soft laugh escaped Astrid's lips as she acknowledged her own longing for such comfort. "Don't we all?"

"Excuse me, Astrid?"  Suddenly, Carol's voice broke the momentary tranquility, drawing Astrid's attention. The woman approached with a basket of laundry in her arms. "Do you have any clothes that need washing?" She asked.

"Oh, I can do that. Don't worry about me."

Carol waved Astrid's insistent words away with a hand. "Oh, it's quite all right," She brushed off. "It gives me something to do. Keeps my mind off of everything else that's going on."

"I could help you?" Astrid offered. Carol murmured a quiet, consented agreement, but then she was retreating from the pair and returning to her work. Astrid watched the older woman go for a moment, and her shoulders stiffened at how Carol so quickly brushed past her husband who lounged lazily by their tent site. Slowly, Astrid's suspicions about the man were deepening.  Less than a day at the camp, and already she held a strong dislike for Ed Peletier. It seemed she was not the only one.

A heavy sigh from Rick brought Astrid's attention away from the tense Peletier family and back to him. His gaze had grown colder as it fixed steadfastly on the distant Atlanta skyscrapers, and Astrid could not tell exactly what he saw beyond the shadows of those ominous buildings. "What is it?" She wondered.

A beat of silence passed between them. Then, "It's nothing, really," Rick insisted. "I'm just thinking about Merle."

"The man you left behind?" Astrid clarified. He only nodded, so she pressed on, "What happened up there, anyways?"

"Maybe . . . I overreacted," Rick admitted. "Everyone was on edge. But he was being cruel and reckless. He put all their lives at risk in that city. He put my life at risk. So, I stopped him. I handcuffed him to a bar on the roof."

Astrid was unsure why she did not feel more unsettled by Rick's confession. Though she was quite certain she would never take such an extreme of her own, she found that she could not exactly blame the man. She would never truly know what happened atop that roof in Atlanta. "How did the others react?" She questioned. "Maybe you did what was necessary."

"He was going to kill T-Dog if I didn't do something about it," Rick stated angrily, and matter of fact. At his mention, the pair both looked over their shoulders to where T-Dog was talking animatedly with Glenn. It was only then, beneath the glare of the bright Georgia sun, did Astrid notice the bigger man's swollen left eye and split bottom lip.

Astrid swallowed the discomfort she felt and looked back to Rick. "You did the right thing," She whispered.

Rick did not react openly to her soft and steady words as he looked away from T-Dog, and back to the distant, overrun city. "Is it a bad thing I don't regret what I did," he hesitated, "but I still want to save him?"

"Not at all," Astrid assured with a swift shake of her head. "This Merle Dixon may be a bad guy, but he doesn't deserve to be left behind." This time, it was her turn to hesitate as she contemplated the actuality of her next statement. Then, she said it, anyways, unknowing if she might have nailed the final nail in her own coffin. "If you go back to save him, then I'll back you up," She decided. "I'll help in any way that I can."

"Thanks, Astrid."

Little was said between them beyond that. Astrid would not go back on her word, though she still held Rick's warily. Ultimately, she did not know the man beyond a grain of salt. What was to stop him from leaving her behind next? She decided she could not think about that possibility right now, and rather than test that boundary, she finally walked away from Rick as he set off to return to his own family.

Astrid did not stop walking until she had crossed the camp and made her way over to where Glenn stood. T-Dog had left the young Korean boy to wallow in silence as he now stared upon the skeleton of his once gorgeous, stolen sports car. Every piece of the vehicle was being stripped away for necessary use elsewhere in the camp.

Glenn had a large scowl on his face as Astrid stepped up beside him and nudged his arm. He barely noticed her. "Vultures," He muttered in disgust.

Astrid smirked and coughed down a laugh that threatened to spill from her lips.

At that, Glenn rolled his eyes. "Laugh all you want, Astrid," He grumbled. "Just know that you'll be sleeping outside tonight."

"It's just a car," She reminded him.

"It's a beautiful car," Glenn corrected sternly. "A type of car that I would have never been able to afford before everything went to hell."

Astrid snorted playfully and opened her mouth to shoot back some retort to her friend, but before she could actually say anything, the quiet air of camp was suddenly filled with several screams. The shrieks of terror were high-pitched and childlike, and they sharply pierced Astrid's ears as she snapped her head up in alarm. It took her less than a moment to realize that the screaming was coming from none other than Carl and Sophia, and though she could not see them, she knew they were close. Astrid immediately pulled away from Glenn and started in the children's direction, all the while pulling her own pistol from the waistband of her jeans.

"Carl! Sophia!" Astrid called out urgently. She hurried into the trees, Glenn following closely behind, and yelled their names again, hoping it might lead the children to her faster. In front of her, more adults joined their pursuit, and Astrid quickly leaped over an abandoned snare in an attempt to get to the familiar dirt path quicker.

Moments later, Lori, who had already been further up ahead, dropped to her knees and exhaled a sigh of relief as her son and Sophia emerged from the underbrush, breathless and terrified. Carol was immediately at her daughter's side a moment later and enveloped the little girl in a protective embrace.

Astrid came to a halt behind the two mothers, her gaze shifting between Carl and Sophia, assessing their safety. "What happened?" Lori demanded as she cupped her son's face in her hands.

Carl looked deeply shaken, and his voice trembled as he pointed back in the direction they had come from. "W-Walker," He whispered, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Lori and Carol exchanged a quick, knowing glance as their faces filled with dread. Without wasting a moment, they hurried their children back toward the camp, leaving Astrid, Glenn, and the others to investigate. Gripping her pistol tighter, Astrid exchanged a tense nod with Glenn, and then they continued onward in the direction that the two terrified children had originally come from.

The end of the path led them to a small clearing, and there it was—the unmistakable sight of a lone walker feasting on the carcass of a deer. The dead deer was already riddled with arrows, a testament to someone's failed attempt at hunting and reclaiming their prize. Astrid approached the bloody and nauseating scene cautiously, her senses on high alert, with Glenn swift by her side. Around them, Rick, Shane, Dale, Jim, and Morales had also gathered on the edges of her vision, each armed with their chosen weapons.

The walker remained oblivious to their presence, its focus solely on its gruesome meal. Astrid raised her pistol, ready to take the open shot, but Rick pushed her arm down, gesturing to his own melee weapon. She nodded in understanding, and slowly stepped back as the men prepared to strike. One by one, they unleashed a fury of blows upon the unsuspecting walker, their weapons pounding into its decaying flesh. Yet, the relentless creature refused to fall, snarling and growling, its hunger undeterred. They struck every part of its body but the head, the vital target they needed to hit.

Frustration mingled with fear as Astrid watched the seemingly endless onslaught. Did they not know it had to be a blow to the head? Before she could voice her concerns, Dale raised his ax high, delivering a final, devastating blow that severed the walker's head from its body. The grotesque head soared through the air until it crashed back down in the middle of the clearing.

"Would it be bad if I said that wasn't the gnarliest thing I've seen in the past week?" Astrid quipped dryly, attempting to diffuse the tension. Her words were met with breathless chuckles from the men, the shared dark humor momentarily lifting their spirits of disgust.

But the rest was short-lived. The rustling of leaves and the ominous creaking of branches broke the silence, signaling new movement in the surrounding forest. Astrid's grip tightened on her pistol once more, her gaze locked on the trees, as she waited for the next threat to emerge.  Expecting growls and snarls to reach her, instead, there was only abrupt and forced silence.  Then there was a swear.

Astrid was almost disappointed to see a man angrily push his way into the clearing. From his appearance and his weaponry—a crossbow and a hunting knife with a blade as long as her forearm—she knew that he was a hunter. Clearly, the very hunter that had been trekking through the Georgian wilderness for this deer. From his sleeveless flannel to his torn work pants, every part of him seemed to be covered in dirt from tromping through the hills.

Somehow, the man looked both young and old as the shadows of the trees bounced off his unshaven face. His tanned skin was slick with sweat, and beads of it rolled from his brows which were narrowed darkly in annoyance.

Dale was the first to dare break the silence with the stranger. With one hand, he cautiously pushed Astrid's weapon down, and with the other, waved. "Welcome back, Daryl," He greeted with a stiff smile.

Astrid lowered her arms to her sides at the recognition of the name. Meanwhile, Daryl did not even remotely look at the group of the living; his attention was solely down to the dead.  Kicking at the lifeless corpse, he unleashed his frustration, his voice filled with righteous fury. "That was my deer!" He exclaimed. "God, dammit, it was mine! Torn apart by this worthless thing!"

"Calm down, son," Dale attempted to soothe the enraged hunter.

"Don't say a word, old man," Daryl snapped back, and his icy blue eyes narrowed into a piercing glare. The aggression radiated from him, unsettling the entire onlooking group. "You don't know what I've been through to find this deer. I've been tracking it for miles, and I planned to take it back to camp.  Make a goddamn feast out of it!"

Daryl's menacing step forward threatened to escalate the situation further, and Astrid, her own anger suddenly ignited, swiftly placed herself between him and Dale. "Leave him alone," She snapped.

Daryl's gaze flickered to Astrid's face, assessing her with a predatory glare. She wondered what he saw in her, a woman that refused to back down and meet his blazing gaze head-on. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded.  Her defiance seemed to irk him, but just as quickly as he took her in, he spat her back out with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You know what? I really don't care," Daryl coldly declared. He turned back to the mauled deer, now contemplating the salvageable parts. "You think we can eat around this part?" He mused aloud.

Astrid had enough courage—or spite—to answer him. "I wouldn't risk it," She huffed. Daryl rolled his eyes at the underlying suggestion in her tone.

A hostile pause descended upon the clearing, the air thick with tension. Daryl discarded the dead deer, his frustration unvarnished as he muttered under his breath about some squirrels he had managed to salvage. Then he turned and his gaze swept over the group, his eyes piercing through their silence as he demanded new answers. "Where's Merle?" He finally asked.

Silence answered him. Astrid held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she desperately tried to conceal her unease, lest she accidentally give the older Dixon's brother location away. But before Daryl could pry further, a series of weak growls sliced through the stillness. Instinctively, Astrid's eyes darted downward, widening in shock at the sight that greeted her. Barely inches away from her boots, the severed head of the walker—a head she assumed to be lifeless—snarled and snapped its teeth, hunger still pulsing through its decaying flesh.

Daryl let out an exasperated sigh of annoyance. "Move," He snapped at Astrid, his voice laced with impatience. She barely had time to comply, stepping back just as Daryl aimed his crossbow at her feet. "Idiots," He muttered as he lined up his shot. "You've got to shoot it in the brain."

He fired the crossbow, and the bolt swiftly found its mark, piercing the eye of the writhing walker's head. The growls immediately ceased.  Daryl then approached the decapitated monstrosity and extracted the bloodied arrow from its squelching skull. Blood from the bolt splattered onto Astrid's exposed arms as the hunter shook the dirtied weapon clean, his actions devoid of remorse or compassion. With a wordless departure, Daryl began to stride up toward the dirt path that led back to camp.

Astrid scoffed in disgust, bloodied arms now crossed tightly over her chest, as she seethed after Daryl's retreating figure.  He never once looked back at her as he disappeared from sight, but the intensity of his emotions still radiated right into Astrid's very core.

Behind her, Glenn cleared his throat awkwardly.  Stiffly, almost painfully, he addressed with caution, "So . . . that's Daryl."

"He's lovely," Astrid muttered, venom dripping from her tone. Her gaze fell to the black blood on her forearms where it had smeared across her sunburned skin.  She could not help but wonder if Daryl had purposely flung the messy bolt in her direction.  Regardless, Astrid vowed to etch his appalling behavior into her memory, and the raw scorn she felt had begun to fuel a deeper, blistering, inner fire.

Glaring up the dirt path that led back to camp, Astrid clenched her fists fiercely. Then, sparing a final distasteful glance at Glenn, her dark gaze conveying all her frustrations, she set off spitefully toward the makeshift civilization that awaited them. She did not bother to look back at the pile of fresh dead behind her as she went.

~~~~~~~~~~