The Fall of the Governor, Part 2 (36 page)

She tosses the shotgun to the floor and wades out of the flooded room, her ears ringing and the last traces of Philip Blake's madness exorcised from the earth.

*   *   *

That evening, as the sun begins its descent behind the high treetops on the western horizon and the air turns cool and luminous in the lengthening shadows, the twenty-eight surviving inhabitants of Woodbury, Georgia, stand in a semicircle around a freshly turned mound of earth, finishing up their tribute to a lost child … and closing a violent chapter in the town's post-plague history.

The spot Bob picked out for Penny's final resting place is outside the wall, shaded by massive live oaks, dappled in wildflowers, and relatively free of the detritus of past skirmishes and attacks.

Everybody stands in respectful silence, heads bowed, mouthing their final whispered prayers. Even the children present stop fidgeting for a moment and look down into the dirt and clasp their little hands together in prayer. Lilly closes the small, dog-eared Bible that Bob loaned her for the occasion, and she gazes at the ground for a beat, waiting for the moment to run its course. She has just finished reciting a brief eulogy for a child no one knew, a child who seems a fitting symbol for the loss of many others, as well as the sanctity of those lives still being lived, and now Lilly feels a profound sort of closure.

“Rest in peace, little Penny,” she says at last, breaking the spell and bringing the moment to an end. “Thanks, everybody. Probably ought to be getting back now … before darkness rolls in.”

Bob stands next to Lilly with a wadded handkerchief in his huge hands, the cloth soaked with his tears. Lilly can tell by the sanguine look behind his rheumy, hound-dog eyes that this little impromptu ceremony has been good for him. It's been good for all of them.

One by one, they turn away from the grave and start making their way across the vacant lot outside the northeast corner of town. Lilly walks in the lead, Bob ambling along next to her, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. Behind Bob, Matthew and Speed carry rifles on their hips in case they encounter any stray walkers.

The others follow closely, chatting softly, talking idly about matters great and small, when the faint sound of an engine in the distance gets everybody's attention. Most of them stop and crane their necks to see what in God's name might be coming this way.

“If I didn't know better,” Bob says to Lilly, reaching for the Smith & Wesson lodged behind his belt, “I'd say that was a car coming down 109.”

“Okay, just take it easy—everybody—take it easy,” Lilly says to the group, glancing over her shoulder at the column of people behind her and seeing some of them pulling weapons, some of the kids pushing in closer to the adults. “Let's just see what it is before we get all bent outta shape.”

For a moment, other than the sputtering sound of a dying engine, all Lilly can make out in the distance is a wisp of black exhaust rising above the tree line and then diffusing in the wind. She keeps her eyes on the bend in the road a couple hundred yards away when a battered station wagon comes into view.

Lilly can tell instantly that the car poses no threat. It appears to be an old, battered, rust-flecked Ford LTD, a late 1990s model, burning oil, with half the wood panels shaved off in side-swipe mishaps, the wheels wobbling as though they might fall off at any moment. “Lower your weapons,” Lilly says to Matthew and Speed. “C'mon … it's okay.”

As the vehicle rattles closer and closer, the people inside come into view—a tattered couple in the front, three small urchins in the back—apparently a family, their engine running on fumes. They pull up to within a safe distance—about twenty-five yards down the road—and cobble to a stop in a cloud of noxious haze.

Lilly raises her empty hands to show the people in the car she's not a threat.

The driver's-side door squeaks open and the father climbs out. Dressed in layers of Salvation Army rags, as malnourished as a prisoner of war, the man is skin and bones. He looks as though he might collapse at any moment. He responds to Lilly's gesture by raising his
own
hands to show that he, too, means no harm.

“Evening!” Lilly calls out to the man.

“Hello.” The man's voice sounds hollow, like that of a terminal cancer patient. “Mind if I ask if y'all got any spare drinking water ya might part with?”

Lilly recognizes the faint, urbanized drawl of a Southern city—Birmingham, Oxford, Jacksonville maybe—and she glances over her shoulder at the others. “You folks stay put for a second; I'll be right back.” She turns again to the stranger. “I'm gonna stroll a little closer, sir, if that's all right?”

The man turns and looks worriedly at his family huddling nervously in the car. He turns back to Lilly. “Sure … I guess so … c'mon over.”

Lilly walks calmly toward the station wagon, her hands still raised. The closer she gets, the more she can see how badly these people are hurting. The man and his wife look like they have one foot in the grave, their sallow, ashen faces so thin they look cadaverous. In the cluttered backseat, the children are caked with grit and scantily dressed. The wagon is filled with empty wrappers and moth-eaten blankets. It's a miracle these people are still upright. Lilly approaches and stands a few feet away from the father. “My name's Lilly, and yours is…?”

“Calvin … and that's Meredith.” He points at his wife, and then at his kids. “And that's Tommy, Bethany, and Lucas.” He looks at Lilly. “Ma'am, I would be forever grateful if you could maybe part with some food, and maybe any weapons you might be able to spare?”

Lilly looks at the man and proffers a warm, guileless, genuine smile. “I've got a better idea, Calvin. How about I show you around?”

 

Also by Robert Kirkman and Jay Bonansinga

The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor

The Walking Dead: The Road to Woodbury

The Walking Dead: The Fall of the Governor: Part One

 

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Robert Kirkman is the creator of many popular comic books, including
The Walking Dead
,
Invincible
, and
Super Dinosaur
. In addition to being a partner at Image Comics, Kirkman is an executive producer and writer on
The Walking Dead
television show. In 2010, Kirkman opened Skybound, his own imprint at Image, which publishes his titles as well as other original work.

Jay Bonansinga is a
New York Times
bestselling novelist whose works include
Perfect Victim, Shattered, Twisted
, and
Frozen
. His debut novel,
The Black Mariah
, was a finalist for a Bram Stoker Award.

 

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously.

THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin's Press.

THE WALKING DEAD: THE FALL OF THE GOVERNOR: PART TWO.
Copyright © 2014 by Robert Kirkman LLC. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.stmartins.com

Cover design by Lisa Marie Pompilio

Cover photography by Shane Rebenschield

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Date is available upon request.

ISBN 978-1-250-05201-8 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4668-5322-5 (e-book)

e-ISBN 9781466853225

First Edition: March 2014

 

“Fred Berman's narration is smooth and keeps listeners engaged throughout this audio version.… As the narrative moves into more pitched moments, Berman chooses pauses and projection with a great deliberateness, adding to the suspense and making the prose all the more impactful.”

—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

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by Robert Kirkman and Jay Bonansinga
Narrated by Fred Berman

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