twd: the last silence

Chapter 86 – "The Gates of Hell"

The sky above Alexandria was a dark canvas, lit only by scattered stars and the pale shine of the crescent moon. The town had finally quieted after the long, tense day. Some people tried to sleep. Others lay awake, staring at their ceilings, thinking about the stranger who had walked through their gates—Axel.

Daryl Dixon leaned against a railing on a rooftop near the center of the town, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. His eyes never left Axel, who sat silently on a bench near the old greenhouse, barely moving.

Daryl didn't trust him.

But he didn't see a monster either.

He'd seen monsters—real ones. Men who smiled as they hurt others. Men who lied with ease. Axel didn't lie. Daryl saw it in his face when he spoke to the crowd, when he talked about the past. The way his voice broke. The way he looked away, like he was afraid to see how people saw him. That wasn't the look of a liar.

It was the look of someone still bleeding inside.

But Daryl stayed on watch. Just in case.

And that's when he heard it.

A low, dragging moan. Then another. Then dozens.

From the treeline beyond the gate came the shuffle of death. A wave of walkers—too many. Moving faster than usual, like something had stirred them up. Daryl's eyes widened.

He didn't hesitate.

"WALKERS INCOMING!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The whole town lit up in chaos.

The siren hadn't even started before the first crunch hit the front gate. The barricade, weakened from months of patchwork and storms, gave way with a screech of twisted metal. Walkers spilled in like a flood. Moaning. Biting. Grabbing anything they could reach.

Rick burst out of his house, gun in hand, already shouting orders.

"Everyone! Get to the walls! Protect the kids! Keep them back!"

Michonne was right behind him, katana already slicing through the first walker that lunged too close.

Carol, Maggie, Aaron—all of them were already moving, weapons ready, cutting through the undead as they poured in.

Axel stood slowly as the chaos erupted around him. His eyes narrowed. Then, without hesitation, he ran straight into the horde.

No hesitation. No waiting for orders.

Just action.

He grabbed a fallen metal pipe and started swinging, crushing skulls, pushing walkers back with raw force. He fought like a storm—a controlled fury. Daryl watched in stunned silence as Axel moved through the horde, not for himself—but toward a family pinned near the fence.

A woman was screaming, clutching her daughter.

Axel didn't stop. He grabbed a walker by the throat, lifted it, and slammed it against another. He grabbed the mother and child, spun them behind him, and bellowed—

"RUN!"

They didn't ask questions. They ran.

Axel stood his ground.

By the time Rick reached him, blood and guts already coated Axel's shirt. He turned toward Rick, panting, eyes wild.

"We need to seal the gate. Now."

Rick hesitated. Then nodded.

"Go!"

Together, they fought back to the gate, side by side. Rick gave orders. Axel didn't need any.

They understood each other in that moment.

Not with words. But with war.

And as the tide of the undead slowly began to turn under their joined effort, one thing was becoming terrifyingly clear to everyone watching:

Alexandria wasn't just being defended.

It was being saved.

....

The night was chaos. Screams tore through the air like shrapnel, metal clanged, and the stench of blood mixed with smoke as Alexandria fought for its life.

People fought like animals.

Claws, blades, fists—whatever they had, they used.

And then, through the haze of war, came a scream. A child's scream.

Not just any child.

Judith.

One of Rick's people heard it first—a soft, panicked cry echoing from a nearby house, half-collapsed with time and wear. The man froze, eyes wide, then shouted, "THE little girl!"

Rick turned just as he saw it.

Judith.

Trapped.

A tiny figure, huddled and crying, barely shielded by a half-crushed car that had collapsed between her and the advancing horde. The only thing stopping the walkers from ripping her apart.

Rick's heart stopped.

Michonne's breath hitched.

Daryl's hands trembled on his crossbow as he unleashed bolt after bolt, trying to clear a path—desperately.

But it wasn't enough.

Too many.

Too far.

Rick ran. Michonne beside him. Daryl behind. Maggie screamed. But in their hearts, they knew—

They wouldn't make it in time.

One walker, faster than the rest, reached Judith. Its filthy hand grabbed her tiny leg.

Judith screamed.

And then—

It was like lightning had struck.

A storm came.

A blur of rage, steel, and blood.

The walker was launched through the air, smashing into the front gate like a broken doll. Blood sprayed like rain. Then another walker fell. And another. And another.

He came like death itself.

Axel.

Wielding nothing but a bent iron pipe, he tore through the horde. Each strike crushed skulls, tore through torsos, shattered jaws. He fought with a rage that wasn't just survival.

It was personal.

He stood in front of Judith, feet planted, breathing heavy, his face and arms covered in blood and gore. He never once looked away from the walkers.

He was the wall.

The pipe bent in his hand with the last swing, useless now.

The horde surged.

But from across the street—Michonne moved.

In a single motion, she raised her katana.

She didn't hesitate.

She threw it.

It spun through the air, a gleam of steel cutting the moonlight.

Axel turned, caught the hilt in one smooth motion—and for a second, time froze.

He remembered the day outside the Sanctuary. When he'd put a katana on his back and chose not to use it. Chose words instead.

But this?

This was different.

This was a child.

He moved like a storm let loose from heaven's gate. The sword became a blur, severing walker heads, splitting chests, slicing through death itself. His movements were elegant. Brutal. Unstoppable.

By the time Rick reached Judith, Axel stood there, still breathing hard, katana hanging by his side. Walkers were scattered, motionless, their corpses forming a circle around him.

Rick dropped to his knees, pulling Judith into his arms, trembling.

Axel turned and looked at him.

"You're welcome," he muttered, voice low and empty.

And then he walked past them, katana dragging behind him in the dirt.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Even in war—silence fell.

They all saw it.

All of Alexandria saw it.

The monster had saved them.

The storm had become their shield.

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