[ xlv. fractured memories ]

october 11th, 2010

➸➸➸

"SO, WHAT DO YOU think?" Dominic Lancaster asked of his younger sister, voice tired as he peered through a pair of small, battered binoculars.

Astrid Lancaster stood on the desolate street corner, her arms drawn tightly across her chest, her frame trembling from both the bitter cold and gnawing hunger that had become her unwelcome companions. It had been four uncomfortably long days since her last real meal, and her older brother was now determined to secure food even if it meant risking his own life and limb in the process.

Dominic and she had taken refuge on the fringes of Atlanta in his apartment for the past week, but now their meager supplies had dwindled to nothing, and desperation had driven them to this precipice of exploration. Dominic's familiarity with the city's streets was their only lifeline, and Astrid clung to it as if it were her last vestige of hope. But she still needed a little more to be convinced.

She extended her hand, demanding the binoculars, her eyes still locked on the tiny store down the block. She needed to see for herself.

"Here." Dominic reluctantly passed the binoculars to Astrid. He stepped back, concern rippling across his weathered features.

Astrid's breath hitched as she scanned the distant surroundings, searching for any lurking threats or signs of life. The eerily silent street, juxtaposed against the heart of the city, sent shivers down her spine, but she could not afford to let fear sway her judgment.

"I don't know," Astrid murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as uncertainty clouded her thoughts. "I didn't see anything . . . but I'm not sure how I feel about this. Just because there's nothing on the outside doesn't mean that there's nothing on the inside."

Dominic nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving the abandoned storefront. His gaze seemed to penetrate the walls and shadows, as if he could discern the hidden dangers that Astrid feared. "You've got a point," He admitted. "But I'm really hungry, Astrid."

"I know. Me too, Dom," Astrid replied genuinely. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt. We've been in your apartment for three weeks, and no one has come to help us."

Dominic's expression hardened as he met Astrid's gaze. His sense of duty to protect his little sister seemingly warred with the pressing urgency of their hunger. "Exactly," He prompted. "Which is why we have no choice but to help ourselves."

"There has to be a reason we haven't seen anyone," She attempted to protest.

"It's a good thing for us, all right?" He reminded her. "Right now, it is."

"How are you so sure?"

"Have I ever let you down before?"

"No." Astrid sighed, a conceding breath that acknowledged the undeniable truth in her brother's question. He was right. It was time for the Lancaster siblings to help themselves. "Okay," She breathed as she retrieved her pistol from her waistband and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Let's go before I change my mind."

Dominic chuckled. Then he clapped Astrid on the shoulder, a silent promise of reassurance, before he embarked on the ominous path ahead. Astrid followed him closely, her senses acutely attuned to the stillness that surrounded her.

Their footfalls slapped along the abandoned road, and Astrid's curious eyes darted from storefront to storefront. She had yet to encounter the "freaks" that had plagued their world, and the absence of danger both unnerved and puzzled her. The media had painted a terrifying and crucial portrait of these infected creatures, suggesting a near-wipeout of the entire human population. Astrid wondered if the scientists had been right. After all, she had not seen another living person—aside from her brother—in over two weeks now.

She crossed the crosswalk out of habit, her gaze lingering on the skeletal remains of a burnt-out car in the middle of a nearby intersection. She wondered if it was the riots or the bombs that had claimed it.

Mere minutes later, Dominic led her to the entrance of the tiny convenience store, its automatic sliding doors forever forced open, shattered remnants of the fragile barrier that once separated them from the unknown. The elder Lancaster child, with a deft and cautious step, ventured forth, and the dissonant crunch of glass underfoot sent shivers down Astrid's spine. She reached out to grab her brother's shoulder, her voice barely a whisper as she voiced her relentless unease. "I don't think we should be doing this," She insisted. "Let's just get out of here."

Dominic's response was a stern look. "We've already come this far," He retorted, a hint of impatience coloring his tone.

"Dominic," Astrid begged. "Please don't do this. We can make it another day. We can look somewhere—"

"Enough," He snapped. "If this bothers you that much, stay outside. I'll be quick. Just watch my back. Okay?"

Astrid stiffened in begrudged agreement, her frustration mingling with unwanted acceptance. With a deep breath, she nodded and finally whispered, "Be careful."

"I'll be out in a minute," Dominic promised Astrid. Her fingers lingered on the fabric of his jacket as she ran her hand over his back softly, a silent plea for his safety. Reluctantly, she allowed him to slip away, his silhouette fading into the inky abyss of the store's interior. It was only after he was gone that she realized they should have brought a flashlight with them.

As Astrid turned away from the gaping entrance, her focus shifted back to the outside landscape. She watched as scraps of newspaper danced in the capricious breeze, a bitter ballet in a new world.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass from inside the store seized Astrid's attention, sending her heart into a frantic race. "Dom?" She called out in alarm, turning back around.

Her pistol was raised, poised for action, but to her immense relief, Dominic emerged briefly from the darkness, his hand raised. "Don't shoot," He said. "I just dropped a glass. I'm alright."

Astrid's sigh of relief was palpable, her tense shoulders relaxing as she lowered her weapon. Dominic disappeared once more, resuming his scavenging amidst the debris. Elsewhere, the weight of the Lancaster woman's earlier doubts lingered, but she found herself compelled to assist in gathering supplies. Perhaps, she reasoned, Dominic was right about the store being safe.

However, fate had other plans.

With no warning at all, guttural growls erupted from the depths of the shadows around the two siblings, a sinister prelude to an impending nightmare. The snarls of monstrous hunger filled the air, and then a blood-curdling scream followed.

"Dominic!" Astrid screamed, panicked, as she hurtled toward the source of the terrifying sounds. She clambered over fallen shelves, her heart pounding with dread, searching for her brother who had moved to the back of the store. A gunshot ripped through the air, adding to the chaos that rapidly enveloped her. With frantic desperation, Astrid scanned the disarrayed interior until her eyes locked onto a harrowing sight—Dominic, pinned beneath the weight of two of the undead freaks. Her voice cracked with anguish as she screamed his name once more, "Dominic!"

Dominic's valiant struggle against the walkers was nearly futile, his body straining fiercely. Beneath the assault of snapping jaws, he abruptly shifted his gaze towards Astrid. In the feeble light that spilled in from the outside, Astrid could discern a deep, crimson gash etched into his forehead.

She took a hesitant step closer, her heart a thundering crescendo of fear and love, but Dominic, in a defiant act of sacrifice, vehemently shook his head. "Don't! Get out of here!" He shouted at her. "Go!"

"I'm not going to leave you!" Astrid yelled back. Tears had begun to stream down her face as she clutched her gun. Her finger tightened on the trigger, and a bold shot rang out, ricocheting through the store.

Dominic's pained screams echoed through the stifling air. Astrid could hear the blood building in his throat, his voice growing hoarse as he fought against the swarming horde. Astrid was too late. Her brother was dying. And yet, despite the inevitability of his demise, he would make sure that he was the only Lancaster to go.

Dominic mustered the strength to force one last word out. "Run!" He gasped.

Astrid's heart pounded in her chest as she willed her frozen legs to move backward. The grotesque monsters turned their ravenous attention toward her, their frenzied hunger evident in their unearthly snarls. With a swift, instinctive duck, she narrowly evaded the outstretched claws that reached for her and emerged from the store.

Her brother's agonized cries abruptly went silent, and Astrid immediately knew that he was gone. Dominic could not be saved. She needed to get away from this place. This place that she should have never trusted in the first place. This place which had cost her everything.

In that moment, Astrid made a solemn pledge to trust her own judgment above all else. She clutched the gun—her brother's gun—in her blood-smeared hand. Her tears were lost on her cheeks, forgotten. And so, turning to face the brutality of her new world head-on and alone, Astrid turned toward the street and ran.

➸➸➸

july 1st, 2011

BANG! A DEAFENING THUD echoed through the cramped, decrepit room, shattering Astrid Lancaster's fitful slumber.

She jolted upright, her senses instantly engulfed by the stark reality of her empty and lonely surroundings. As she took in the sight of the tiny, dusty, and rusted chamber, an overwhelming sense of hopelessness washed over her like a suffocating tide.

Was she dead?

The thought of reuniting with her older brother—finally—lingered like a siren call. An option, louder than ever before, a whisper of respite from the relentless torment that had become her life. Astrid felt poised on the brink of the end, ready to close her eyes and surrender to the comforting embrace of death.

It could be that easy.

Struggling to maintain her bleary-eyed vigil, Astrid surveyed the claustrophobic confines of the room. She had no idea where she was. Her trembling hand instinctively clutched her aching side, where a deep, jagged gash marred her abdomen. Further south, through a tear in her jeans, a swollen kneecap protruded dangerously. A bleak sigh escaped her parched lips at the sight of her own beaten body, each rasping breath a painful reminder of her existence. With feeble fingers, she pushed back a stiff strand of matted hair from her face, feeling it tug at her scalp. In her stiff movements, Astrid's gaze fell upon her own exposed skin, once a canvas of life, now a nasty tapestry of dirt and dried blood, bearing witness to the battle she had waged for survival.

Every swallow was an agonizing ordeal, her tongue feeling like coarse sandpaper. In the haze of her captivity, Astrid had lost track of the days since the fateful prison ambush. Dehydration had distorted her perception of time, leaving her mired in a disorienting fog. However, amidst the disarray, a few harsh truths remained etched in her mind, impossible to forget:

One—T-Dog was dead. Two—Carol remained lost. And three—Astrid herself now teetered on dying.

Astrid's head lolled weakly on her shoulders, her vision glued to her right side, looking upon a heavy door. It was partially ajar, but Astrid could see nothing through its slim crack. Delirium intertwined with a flicker of amusement as she pondered the door's inexplicable state. Why was the door not completely closed? Why was it not completely open? What had happened here? How had she gotten here? Too many questions, then. Her fractured memory betrayed her, withholding even the simplest details.

Astrid lightly touched the door—just to feel anything at all. Her futile attempts to push it open only ended in frustration, as it resolutely resisted her weakened efforts.

Vaguely, Daryl's absence cast a pall over Astrid's thoughts, his full name an elusive wisp in her recollections. She also struggled to conjure the faces of others—of men, and women, and a young boy she had been close with, their fading identities slipping through the fissures of exhausted memories. In the maelstrom of her bewilderment, doubts about her own past and relationships gnawed at her consciousness.

Astrid thought of before. Of her time in Atlanta. Had she truly shared those moments with her brother when the apocalypse first dawned? Did she even have a brother? Astrid sighed angrily, tiredly, her bruised hand pressing against the door. It did not budge, but Astrid found it could remain as it pleased; she no longer cared.

Desires to weep or scream welled up within Astrid, but she lacked the strength to breathe life into those emotions. Trapped, she longed for release, yearned for an end to the ceaseless agony she currently felt. With her eyes weakly closed, a sensation of weightlessness descended upon her, her senses finally adrift once more . . . until an abrupt, jarring clang outside the door shattered the eerie silence.

Confusion rattled the dying Lancaster woman. What was happening?

The sound of something being dragged outside the door evoked images of a body being moved across pavement. Astrid mustered the strength to push against the door once more, but this time, it swung open harshly, blinding her momentarily with a flood of bright light from above. A gasp reached her ears, and she struggled to focus on the figure that squatted beside her, gripping her face with gentle fingers. Astrid swallowed painfully, straining to discern the features of the person who had entered, and as everything came into focus, a fragile smile curved her cracked lips.

Daryl.

➸➸➸

AFTER A GRUELING AND long search, Daryl Dixon had finally found her. Astrid. The girl he would crawl through hellfire for, and he damn well knew she would do the same for him. Covered in a layer of grime and sweat, he was not about to quit now, and that pursuit was finally paying off. Whether she was dead or alive, he had to find her, and he had done just that.

Still, the moment that he found her was also the moment that he thought he lost her. Before Daryl even had the guts to swing open that heavy metal door, he had steeled himself for nearly an hour, bracing against the possibility that she had turned into a walker. When he finally summoned the courage to crack that door, the sight of her hit him like a ton of bricks. Most of it was a good kind of shock—but there was something in the way she now looked that twisted his stomach into a pained knot of worry.

Astrid Lancaster was one hell of a mess. Her whole body was caked in blood, sweat, and filth, not a patch of skin left unmarked. Her light-colored hair now lay in gory tendrils that framed her ashen face. Her lips, dry and cracked, sported a shade of crimson. Even her teeth were stained a dark red.

No matter, Daryl could not help but let out a ragged sigh of relief when Astrid mustered the strength to flash a smile. It was frail, and it probably hurt like hell, but it was her. No amount of dirt or blood could hide that.

Daryl crouched down beside Astrid, gripping her chin with a rough hand, causing her head to sway on her shoulders to meet his gaze. "Hey," He rasped softly, his large, calloused fingers grazing her battered face.

Astrid leaned into his touch, and he knew that if he let her go, she would crumple like a house of cards. She kept that brave smile on her face even though he could see it was costing her.

"D-Daryl . . ." Astrid whispered, her voice hoarse as nails on a chalkboard. Dehydrated, no doubt. Daryl cursed himself for not thinking to bring food or water. As he continued to stroke her face, she struggled to get more words out.

"Stop," He interrupted, his tone stern. "It's okay. I'm here. Save your strength." Astrid nodded weakly, stubborn as ever, but he knew she would not give in until she had said her piece.

Astrid took a shallow breath as her eyes fluttered open once more, revealing deep green orbs, reminiscent of the woods the hunter roamed. Her gaze held for a few precious seconds before they drooped shut again, but she pushed herself to say three simple words:

"I . . . I love you."

Daryl was left breathless by her blatant response. It was the first time in many years that he had heard those words spoken to him. He had become so accustomed to a life of solitude, building his walls, that he had almost forgotten the feeling. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone care for him so deeply, to express their love openly and without reservation. Astrid had rekindled that in a single breath.

But, in truth, Astrid had rekindled it long ago.

A barely-there smile crept onto the hunter's lips, and he chuckled despite the tears brimming in his naturally cold eyes. He would not let Astrid see him cry; he was not the crying type. But if anyone could make him break, he was glad it was her. It had been a damn long time coming.

Reaching forward, Daryl pressed a kiss to her temple. "I love you, too," He replied, his voice gravelly.

Astrid sighed, resting both against him and against the wall, her eyes still closed. "I'm tired," She mumbled, her chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. Panic began to set in the longer that Daryl watched her; this was not the energetic Astrid that he knew. Something was wrong. "Can . . . Can . . . I . . ." Whatever words she had in mind vanished into thin air as she fell silent.

Daryl's grip tightened around her frail frame, and he nudged her gently, his words more growl than plea. "Astrid, stay with me," He demanded. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, then closed again, like a dying ember in the night. Daryl's jaw clenched. He could not let her slip away, not now. "Don't go to sleep on me. Not yet." Without waiting for her response, he hoisted her up, one arm under her swollen knees, the other around her bruised back. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck, head burrowing into his chest, but every shift of the hunter sent ripples of sharp pain through her bleeding body.

"It hurts," Astrid's voice, thin and brittle, whispered the truth, and Daryl felt his chest tighten in helpless frustration. The glistening, fat tears in her eyes mirrored the turmoil inside him.

He held her closer, his words gruff but laced with tenderness, hidden beneath layers of ruggedness. "I know," He said. "But it's goin' to be okay. We're gettin' you back to the cell block, and Hershel's goin' to patch you up. I promise. Everythin's goin' to be okay. We're goin' to make it."

Astrid's weak nod signaled her understanding, but Daryl knew they were far from safe. With her cradled in his arms, he forged ahead through the dimly lit corridor, every step a cautious struggle. The thought of her slipping into oblivion weighed on him like a leaden anchor. He could not afford any mistakes now.

"Is everyone okay?" Astrid wondered, after a short while. "Carol?"

Daryl could not suppress a dry chuckle despite the grim situation. Of course, the hunter thought crudely. That was just how Astrid Lancaster was. Her selflessness would always cut through the bleakness. Even on her own deathbed, she would be trying to get to another's.

"She's holdin' up," He assured her, his voice rough and comforting. "They're all fine."

"T-Dog's not fine," Astrid said softly. "I remember that . . ." Then another pained breath escaped her. "And Lori?" She prodded quietly. "No baby yet?"

Daryl's stomach somersaulted at the mention of Lori and the painful truth he could not reveal. Astrid's bond with the woman had run deep, and he knew that delivering such devastating news could snuff the little life that remained. Astrid could not know what happened—that Carl and Maggie had emerged from the prison's tombs with a bloody baby between them but no mother behind them.

Daryl swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. "No baby yet," He responded, his voice unwavering despite the lie he had to tell. "Hershel says maybe a couple more days."

Astrid's gaze bore into him, seemingly searching for any crack in his façade. Yet, as she merely shrugged, exhaustion etched across her features, Daryl breathed a silent sigh of relief. Maybe she was too drained to press further or instead, she had found solace in the comforting falsehood. It hardly mattered now.

"Good," Astrid finally relented. "That's really . . ."

But Daryl could not finish hearing her unspoken thoughts as Astrid's voice trailed into silence once more. Panic gnawed at the hunter as he watched her in his arms, her eyelids paler than he had ever seen them, her stiffening stillness sending a chill down his spine.

The wet, sticky sensation on his hands drew his attention, and his eyes widened with horror as he beheld his blood-soaked fingers. It was not Daryl's blood. It was Astrid's. In a desperate bid to understand the extent of her injuries, he gingerly lifted her tattered shirt as he walked, revealing a gruesome gash, angry and infected, that twisted down her side, as if she had been caught on something jagged. Dread coiled within him at the ugly sight, but he could not afford to break down, not now.

Daryl's blood-streaked hand brushed against her forehead next, the fevered warmth beneath his fingertips a cruel sign. Astrid's labored breaths grated on his ears, but he refused to accept the possibility of losing her. He needed her to fight.

Daryl shook her, his voice urgent. "Astrid, stay with me," He ordered, but there was no response. He shook her harder, but her head just lolled against his shoulder, silent and lifeless. Her once-vibrant green eyes stayed closed, and there was no longer even a sign that she was still in there. "Goddamn it, Astrid," He cursed, his throat closing painfully as he increased his pace down the hallway. He held her closer, speaking softly in her ear, desperate to keep her awake. Falling asleep now could be a death sentence.

And as the distant growls of the undead grew louder behind them, the hunter clung tighter to his partner, running now as if the devil himself was on their tail, determined to reach safety.

~~~~~~~~~~