It had been about an hour since their departure from Tremblay's community. The newly formed group of strangers walked towards the unknown, following a path labeled on a map found during their escape. They headed north in hope of possible sanctuary - a hint of light in their darkness. Their world had caught fire, put out by the wind of desired survival. Salvation seemed to have its price - the sacrifice of the guilty, but the damnation of the remnant. Some didn't have the will to redemption, believing their actions back there weren't justified. Hank could see the struggle in the face of the people he walked alongside. Some couldn't bare to say goodbye and wanted to return to the world of fire - it was obvious. But there was nowhere to return to.........that world was gone.
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"HANK!" Floyd called out as he grasped his comrade's shoulder and prevented him from further progress. The man stared into Hank's eyes, his own revealing his thoughts and preferred action. Fighting the struggle to listen and the desire to find his target, Hank had become animalistic. His body shivered in place and had become hungry for revenge. The grip on his gun was tighter than before, blood ran down his forehead and over his right eyelid, clogging into his eye and causing it to burn.
But the man's adrenaline was off the roof. His feet would not remain still. His surroundings were experiencing similar traits. The nonhuman environment was experiencing human-like characteristics. The community was being personified into a sort of fearful reckoning. It was loud, shrieking at it started to burn. The sound of bullets flew passed everything, nothing was face. Building collapsed, cars and statues shattered without prevail. It was as though the inanimate body was eating itself from the inside.
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"What you did back there.......thank you," Hank stated with obvious appreciation. He had turned to Floyd who walked alongside Jess and her straddled son Ben. Fortunately for the two, they had been extracted before seeing anything - thanks to Abram. Floyd was definitely in the man's debt, but was in no shape to give back just yet.
Despite Floyd's physical and emotional strength, the community managed to break through his hard outer shell. They gave him someone who had had learned to trust, then stripped that someone away within three days of meeting. The man didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to fuss over his loss. He just fought to bury it deep into some void in his body where the memory would be lost and forgotten. Sweat ran down his entire body, grime and dried blood stained his clothing. His hair was darker than before, his face distinctively in pain. Despite his lack of speech, it was obvious his voice had become more gruff - he just had that look.
Back at the camp, he had managed to prevent Hank from a warpath. The leader had laid eyes on Richard - the same supremacist that killed Eli, Jennifer, Seth and Aaliyah. The first intention was to kill him, put a bullet between his bloody eyes. Hank wanted to rip the man to shreds. Make him feel the same pain he had felt himself. During that struggle, Hank killed two people. He had been attacked and defended himself accordingly. Floyd himself had to end a life - a tattooed man with piercings on his lips wearing a military styled hat. Only god knew how many people died in that encounter between Richard and Tremblay - that is if a God truly existed in this world.
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"Come on!! Let's go! This way! CMON!" Hank yelled at the people near the debris. Smoke bombs had been deployed by Richard's men, clouding the community and making visibility minimal. Heather was by his side, she refused to leave him and also joined in aiding people to safety. Hank managed to get at least five people out of the firefight and into safety - all civilians of the town. He didn't know any of them, nor did Floyd, Heather, or Jess. They were all just strangers, but they were all afraid for the unfolding events. They spoke to one another asking where Tremblay was, if he was alive and if they'd be able to make it through the night.
Being so sheltered in the community for so long, the people had lost the instinct to survive. They acted so civilized as though this world was the old one, but it wasn't. Blind to the outside world were walkers roam the streets and eat the flesh of the living, these people would only present a setback in future events and Hank knew this. But at that time when bullets flew passed him and fires sprung from out of nowhere, all he could think about was saving as many people as he could after snapping out of his true intents.
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"Do you know any of these people?" Hank asked Heather, holding her hand as the two walked alongside each other. She had finally snapped out of her dark abyss - no longer lost, but present to reality. Hank too had returned, driven by his old inclination to help others and ensure their survival. Anyhow, Heather's response was no - she was unaware of anybody's name or title. So he asked Floyd who still seemed to be in grieving pain. He understood the question could wait, but needed the knowledge to understand how to move forward from their situation.
"Guy up there is Abram. Military. He saved Jess," Floyd responded, a guttural sound developing from his throat as he turned look at Jess for a second. Abram was in front of everybody at this point, leading the group northward alongside some of his comrades. He wasn't the only person Floyd could name though. Behind nearly everyone in the back of the group was also a familiar face. One that Floyd wished would have perished along with Tremblay's community. Back there, helped by some blonde girl and followed by his daughter was Tyler. He had survived as well, the man just didn't die. It seemed that despite all of his actions and wrongdoings, all of his monstrosities, he was just forgiven. Then again, this world was not about angels.
It was not about good people, or bad people. The world wasn't about making it to the top, getting paid. The world wasn't about its people or the walkers, not about relationships, not about dreams or ambitions. There were not laws, no regulations. Hard feelings were hard feelings. If someone wanted another dead, one could kill that person if they weren't dead already. One could steal. One could piss wherever the hell one wanted to. People changed, people were strong, other weak, sane, insane. The dead mattered, the dead didn't matter. Beauty was there to some, others couldn't see it. Sometimes one could make it work in this world, but some didn't have the guts to do it. The world was not what it once was and there was no way to make it that. It was just survival now. And as Floyd looked back towards Tyler, he understood. The man had survived....
