Be Good

January, 17th, 2011.

We've been on the run, and I haven't had much time to write. We'd settle down in one place, and within hours, it'd go bad. It's like a curse following us, causin' walkers to fabricate out of nowhere, to come knocking at the doors.

We pretty much lived in those cars, found an additional SUV, and just set up a bed area in the back for Lori. Being on the road certainly wasn't good for her, I could hardly imagine what it must be like for the baby...

We're all scared, we just need somewhere to be... For more than a few hours. Rick's pep talks have lost their certainty, and he's losing hope like the rest of us. A darkness has seemed to settle over hour group, lack of luck and unjust. Daryl and Rick can hardly hunt anything in the woods, with winter upon us now, nothing's around. No greens to gather, or fresh fruit to pick, but they still comb the woods every day in search of something fresh.

There'd been talk a few weeks ago, a simple suggestion to try to return to the farm, just to see... We'd pretty much been revolving around the property since we left, never more than a few miles away, it was tempting. Needless to say, the idea was shot down pretty quick. Although there were plenty of supplies, and maybe even a roof for us still, there were too many memories, too many dead friends and family, returning would only place us further under this darkness that had already consumed everyone's joy, eaten it up like starving walkers.

I keep taking deep breaths, and having positive thoughts, but nothing's working out. My father, I see him reading his pocket sized Bible more than I had in my whole life, his faith was what was keeping him on his feet.

I look at Carl everyday, and wonder what he'll become if we keep at this. Will the darkness consume him, too? Will he become bitter and angry?

I'd already noticed the last two months, his attitude changing, something dark in his mind. I'd catch him looking at Lori, not in admiration like he used to, but in a look of resentment. He didn't like to sit with her, or speak to her, and it was wearing her love thin. Rick came off the same way, most days. The stress eating him up, being responsible for all of us, he had no time for sweet words and kind thoughts.

Carl could be too far gone if we carry on this way. He could lose his way... May he become the hunter his mother always feared he'd be, or would he just loose himself in the madness?

Maggie had grown up a lot since the farm, I suppose if I took the chance to glance in a mirror, I could say the same. She'd become more mature, less sarcastic smirks and remarks, and more murmuring strategic supply run plans to Glenn. Glenn, had luckily, not changed much. He was like me, kept on a smile for everyone else, but inside, you questioned how much longer you could put up with it... The negitivity, the anti-positive agenda the world had sent after us. We struggled with it, and fought back, but there's only so much a smile can fix.

I really hope something comes along soon. If we're out here much longer, I fear we'll all lose ourselves.

Morning had come, beautiful sunlight poured through the stained glass windows of the service room on the first floor. I sat in the third row of silky smooth wooden pews, and looked up, as oblong shapes of vibrant color were cast across my face. In my hands, I held the ashes of another life - the green leather bound journal that a friend had given me in seventh grade. It contained page after page of memories, varying everything from upbeat tales about finding an extra bottle of water in a scavenged house, to the low and dulldrum stories about how we were starving another day.

The last entry in the book was from the last week of July of this year. We'd been at the prison, I'd been in my room, writing. I remember it was almost dusk when Daryl dropped by, his presence was heavy, and there was a sullen darkness to his eyes. I knew without asking, that something was wrong. But I also knew, that if I did not ask, he might not tell.

"What's wrong?" I wondered out loud, shutting the journal and setting my pen down next to his, looking up at him expectantly.

"We were leavin' the Bigspot, when we ran into trouble." He murmurs quietly, he avoids my eyes as he says this... I know already, that the only reason he would be telling me this, was if someone very close to me had been harmed.

I knew, he didn't need to say it...

"He's dead?" I asked quietly, looking down, feeling the small bit of relief that I had not said goodbye to Zack that morning when they'd left. Goodbyes were final, I guess, but not saying them left it open-ended, like you'd see them again no matter what.

"I'm sorry, Beth."

Those three words, were the last words he spoke to me at the prison, not three days later... As we fought for our lives, trying to find the others, he tugged on my arm, and told me we couldn't stay, we needed to run, and if we continued to search, it'd be suicide... "I'm sorry, Beth." He says breathlessly, and we ran for the woods.