CHAPTER NINE ,
a shadow

⠀When the darkness of the tombs scared me before, it was because it felt new. The smell was stale, and it was almost untouched. Only graced upon by dead things. These things who were once people, placed their hands atop these walls as if they were support - when in reality, these things were just clawing in hunger.

⠀And then we came with our voices, our heat, our clear eyes ― and it just turned into a dark hole. It wasn't a tomb anymore ― it was a shadow.

⠀This reminded me of the night the farm burst into flames when the volcanic glass sky got buried beneath an orange and red forced sunset. And there were the woods to shadow me from the following corpses, the shadow me from a snapped neck and screaming murder.

⠀So when we cracked open this tomb and turned it into the following entity, it did just that. It was the last and integral part of our new home. A necessary darkness ― one this world didn't make sense without.

⠀All these silly words for an open corridor, but the haunting presence of a few tainted corners would creep on my neck and tug me back for more.

⠀So when I crossed the lip once more, gripping my nails to my palms, feeling the bandage on my right well up and seep. Like I'd crushed a handful of ripe berries between my fingers. Yet with all this overwhelming brimming, I couldn't help my toes edging out into the shadow. It was like fighting beasts, and I was the lowly child battling a fear I never knew I had.

⠀On the isle of an unknown creature, even I wasn't blind to the scarily close similarities between this shadow and I. The scarce life, ripped and painted corners, tumbling souls no longer themselves, and the multitude of rooms yet to be discovered under lock and key.

⠀When coming to the first long corridor, I stopped for a moment to tune my ears into my surroundings. At first acknowledgment, it was a serene nothingness. But when digging deeper, my own breathing accompanied small rattles; either from the wind or an unwanted presence.

⠀Instead of regressing back and evading to the solemn faces, and that man who I unrelentingly crippled - there was the shadow in front of me, my own revving my legs forward.

⠀As much as this spasmodic fear of the dark struck my chest harshly, I only traipsed further.

⠀Without a torch to guide me, I was left with whatever I could see in this penumbra. As I clenched my fists dragging by my side, I carefully inspected the minuscule shower of dirt, sleaze, and dreck. The caliginous blood; a myriad of grates, scrapes, and scrawlings. This was a representation of what was before. And my eyes only spied my hand when it came into contact with the walls beside me. I steadied myself, crawling in further.

⠀There was that absolute white arrow guiding me the way ― eventually, and surely, I found the one where I had dropped my lance. And it did lay there, securely up against the wall. If no one had been searching for it, they wouldn't have seen it. The shadow had kept it safe for me.

⠀I instinctively ducked down to reach for it, clamping my fingers stiffly around the wood ― to make sure it was mine now, and I'm not letting it go. Something about this lance felt like it was another part of my body, maybe because I was the one to make it. I was the one to fix it when it broke. I was the one who had sought out the materials and committed to finding the right ones for this lance. Hell if I lost it or let it go.

⠀Where it had been laying, an unopened and unventured room stood just before it. My curiosity licked at my heels, telling me to look inside. If I was so pledged towards a braver me, and making this shadow an appendage ― I had to be the one who pulled the handle first, sometimes.

⠀I found it unlocked, notably. The groaning and stuttering of the door made me clench my teeth, as I peeked into the lighter space. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the sudden glimpse of an etiolated green and white, plastic box made me lurch ahead to the workbench it was positioned on. My hands reached out to, without any grace, pry it open in hopes of finding some sort of gauze or antibiotics. On my selfish journey to find my appendage, the real mission to help Hershel was suddenly at the forefront of my mind.

⠀When the lid flipped back, I was met with empty packages and dust; as my digits rifled through the mess only to hit nothing paramount. Biting my tongue, I held the essential need to cry in frustration. But I didn't make a sound as something behind me did so instead.

⠀I managed to look through my lowered lids and hair, over my shoulder and slowly towards a dead one. My pupils neared its form, carefully analyzing the way it seemed to struggle forward. My hands were too busy digging into the container, that its oncoming status didn't run through my thoughts until it just about reached me.

⠀Holding a gasp in my throat, I circled quickly on my toes to splay my hands across the uniform on his chest. It snarled, and its jaw clicked as it salivated onto the first meal he had probably seen in a long time. The hot liquid dripping onto my shaking arms.

⠀"God- damnit!" I whispered, trying and failing at not letting its warm breath fan across my cheeks. It appeared to be an ex-guardsman ― one who had somehow gotten stuck inside this room, awaiting what poor thing was to enter.

⠀I maneuvered my left arm to sit across his collarbones, the murky sputum layering over the fine hairs on my arms. It seeped into the edges of my rolled up shirt sleeves, the gurgling noise only accompanying everything I wanted to stop right then.

⠀With my other hand, I reached behind me to grasp my lance but it skidded from my reach and rolled onto the floor.

⠀I almost screamed... this was a classic horror movie.

⠀Ducking under the arms of this ravenous creature, I pulled its clothes to the wall behind me ― this made it stumble forward, knocking, even more, items off of it.

⠀The lance retreated from me, and my bent knees proved awkward as I limped to my knees and my body landscaped itself over the small steps leading to a lower, caged part of this room. My ankles buckled and my wrist stung when in contact with the ground. I managed to steady myself, dragging my body along the floor and towards my source of achievement.

⠀I only heard it come after me, just as my fingertips graced the wood of the lance, and I pulled it towards my body under the pressure and pain of the concrete.

⠀Spinning over onto my back, I kicked out against the walker, sending the pointy end through its neck and out the other side. This one's body slipped forward, lapping over its own blood and gore. It was still hungry, it was still 'alive'.

⠀And even more blood, almost black under the lack of light as the liquid took its time lapsing onto my body in thick, heavy coats. It almost became a costume in itself as the stench reached my throat, making me choke out.

⠀Pulling the walker to the ground beside me, with hurried breaths, I backed up against the metal wall to my right. Staring at what I had done, all whilst letting my arms stretch out to possibly shake off the vulgar substance that had made a home on my upper body. It reached up to my neck, all the way down to the tops of my thighs. I never knew that much fluid could exit someone or something.

⠀The thing still squirmed, so I set about reaching over and adjusting my lance so it would stick upwards into its cranium from the base of its skull.

⠀The sickeningly retching sound that came from the soft fabric of its bones made me squirm, and I shielded my nose from the redolence.

⠀After all was said and done, I was disheveled and yet had found nothing of use to helping Hershel ― only me.

⠀When exiting the room, my body was on high alert as hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My scalp tingled under the daunting corridor, feeling as something was crawling its way over my head. I shivered, dragging my lance behind me in a lay fashion. I only ventured deeper there, obscured from a walker by their own makings.

⠀I had remembered the direction to the cafeteria, where we had met those prisoners. My frame led its own self to the area, and I let my guard down when I was met with only my own company in the vast space.

⠀"Thank..." fuck.

⠀The only part of this place I had no information about was where I had seen those prisoners come from, so I stepped farther. Rushing almost, in dear hope of finding something ―  anything to use. I was desperate, more than I had thought before. The sudden urgency to be the savior was clawing at my skull. So much so it made me drop my usual sheath, it made me defenseless even with a weapon; as nothing seemed to matter then more than the thought of Hershel dying by my hand.

⠀I'm scared of my own immaturity, scared of my own feelings. Afraid that I never feel the right things at the right time ― my emotions were a roll of the dice. I could have been acting merciless like I would have used to, but this felt worse. It hurt.

⠀Pillaging the various old mattresses the strangers must have used, I came up with almost nothing. My sticky fingers were dirtying their things more than they were before, but I felt no mercy for that.

⠀Finally, I came up with something - a strangely clean, and austere orange bottle. The label had been scratched off, but a few intact white pills. They made a small sharp sound when I moved the bottle round, they caught my full attention as I tried to decipher exactly what they were. And I fell back onto my knees, bending my neck to let the light hit them right.

⠀I had no idea.

⠀"What?!" A low, furious voice bellowed from behind me. It made me curl into myself, fastening my prize to my chest. Another thing had made its presence behind me just like that walker from before.

⠀The other prisoners followed behind their leader; the one who carried the gun. They all scurried after him to get a better look at what he saw.

⠀"Hey, you―" he let himself hurry towards me and I only straightened my legs faster. He followed my stance, so I swerved behind a thick pillar to which he collided with.

⠀Just as my luck for the day seemed to be dwindling fast, a few men I actually knew entered the scene. Rick with his authority pretty much swallowing the attention, he lunged between our paths to stick a hand out. I don't think he'd hardly given me a glance, but he still jumped to a conclusion. He was followed by T-Dog, and then Daryl; whom both widened their eyes at my presence, especially a grime covered one.

⠀"That's mine," the prisoner growled, only being held back by Rick's palm. "That's mine," he repeated lower.

⠀Rick looked over towards me and eyed the orange bottle, holding out a hand towards me. And I retreated. This was it... I may have no idea what these pills were, or if they were of some use. But I was desperate. I wanted something better.

⠀All I wanted was... to see a better me when I open my eyes.

⠀But taking the much wiser and less arduous path, the bottle fell into Rick's hand. I passed it over with a discontented sigh, watching as the convict eagerly snatched them back into his own possession. His eyes seemed darker around me, more predatorial ― it made me more preservative than anxious.

⠀I didn't know his name, but I was languidly establishing an immense dislike for his type of character.

⠀When he tried advancing towards me ― even though he had what he wanted ― Rick stood his ground, eyeing the man closely. He had stuck out an arm behind him towards me, to which I gently pushed away when he graced my side. "You gonna show us what we want?" He asked leisurely.

⠀His friends had the best idea to back up into from whence they came, followed by their leader.

⠀Whilst Rick and T-Dog followed after them, Daryl stayed put beside me and it didn't take him even five seconds before giving me a questioning look; one I turned away from. "What the hell happened to you?" He stepped in front of my eye line.

⠀The only thing I noticed in that moment was the small gesture he made with his hand, instinctively reaching out but doing just the same to pull himself back. Too nervous, or too wired to break that barrier and pervade my personal bubble.

⠀The tone of his voice was misleading. It was harsh and accusatory ― "There was a walker. Don't say it like it's my fault."

⠀Something about him turned soft. Daryl slowly shook his head, turning down the volume. "You can't keep doing this," he whispered. "You can't keep putting yourself in danger because you think it proves something."

⠀"What are you talking about?" This weighted burden was always going to be carried within me, I couldn't help that. But actually facing the matter of my own rash decisions that set a target on my back; it wasn't my strong point. I could be running into the flames for the rest of my life, but my brain could never catch up with how much it burned. To my brain, this was all worth something.

⠀"You know damn well," he answered back. "You don't―" His voice faltered, and I couldn't read his emotions. "Don't you remember you almost― you did..."

⠀My throat was closing up at the thought of his eyes when I woke up. They were the same ones in front of me now. "I know what happened," solemn atmospheres escaped my body in heavy chokes. "But what is the point of me being here if I don't do shit?"

⠀"Why couldn't I have just died, when nothing I do is right?" The tears were absorbed back into the pit of my stomach, replaced by vehement insubordination. "But I'm alive ― what the fuck am I going to do with that?"

⠀Kneeling down towards the ground, rushing past him and grappling the lance once more. His eyes followed my figure as I bent down. I turned to look over my shoulder. "Something is better than nothing."

⠀"And I figured out that," I paused to collect my thoughts, buried beneath the steady sunlight and abating dust. "If I have this, it's got to work some of the time, right?" The sobs finally escaped, because I'm a fucking mess sometimes. This special reunion with a broken me was a daily occurrence I was never going to be able to welcome.

⠀Daryl had no clue how to deal with me, as he idly stood, fingers hooked in the straps of his crossbow.

⠀But instead of giving him the chance to do anything, I lurched towards one of the cafeteria tables, grasping a vagrant tray laid atop it. It didn't take much effort, but the cracking of it between my digits reached my ears instantaneously. Then the fracture and snap of it when I swung the item towards the nearest pillar. I didn't know how hard I had pushed it, only realizing as it shattered across my skin - the pulverized fragments dancing, descending to the concrete. "Waarom heb ik gen zin?!" The words left me like a cry from a wolf, lonely and desperate for answers.

⠀When my blood had simmered down, Daryl caught my eye. He looked to have stepped back a few inches, gawking at the disarray of me.

⠀I swallowed heavily, taking my bottom lip between my teeth. "Ik bedoelde niet―um, sorry. I didn't mean to do that." My voice was almost microscopic, the once extremely homespun language feeling warm on my tongue. So much so, I wanted to do it more.

⠀"What was that?!" T-Dog and Rick appeared at the doorway, hands mismanaging their weapons beside them.

⠀Daryl turned his body towards them. "Nothin'."

⠀They eyed me carefully, but my answer was just as useless and untrue. "There was a... food tray." And as they only looked bewildered, my eyes rolled involuntarily- not exactly talking to them in particular but most probably any sort of higher being, if there was one around here. "Give me a break." My words were small in their volume, but their impact made Daryl leave the space beside me, to join them in the other room they retreated to. Giving nothing to me but this open capacity.

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(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ note.
bro marleys alter ego is called 'klootzak' and we just saw her throw a tray and smash it yaaaaaaas

i didn't have much of a plan for this chapter at first then I thought about the tunnels and i was like "yes i am
good and ready"

i appreciate comments my darlings ily all
( edited ✓ )