I have never... (closed)

The sun was starting to hang lower in the sky and the slight breeze that had been hitting my face had grown slightly cooler. I could hear the frogs hollering in the distancae and every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of a lightning bug as it haphazardly flew through the trees. Night was coming. I used to embrace the darkness, not starting my day until well into the evening hours. I would roll out of bed late in the afternoon, hung over or coming down from my latest vice, and shower if I had crashed someplace that had one, or just lay around until after the street lights had started to flicker on. The night gave me freedom, and protection, shielding me from prying eyes that would be able to see what I would have to do that particular evening to eat, or find something to make me feel well again. That was before.

Now I dreaded the night. It was the time when I was most vulnerable. It was hard to sleep knowing that at any moment a walker, or whatever was left of one, could amble or crawl up on you looking for its next meal. The daytime wasn't much better, but at least I could see, or hear the woods around me come to life at the approach of an intruder. The prison had been a sanctuary. I never thought I would ever hear myself say that I wished I were back at a prison. Yet, as I sit here leaning against a tree, watching the flames flicker from the small fire, that is exactly what I was thinking. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly as the images of my friends lying dead or dying in the courtyard and surrounding field come rushing back. I could never go back, the Gov had made fucking sure of that. The fences were destroyed, the walls blown to shit, and even if there were a secure area, everyone was dead as far as I knew, except for me and Beth.

I looked over at her setting on the opposite side of the fire, her young face sad, and understandably so. She had just lost her father, and possibly her sister. I had thought Maggie had made it out on the bus, but I couldn't be sure. After the first shot from the Gov's tank, I grabbed whoever was standing beside me and tore ass to the woods. She had watched as Hershel's head rolled from his body, to lie there twitching on the grass. It had felt like someone had ripped my guts out as I stood beside there at the fence, so helpless to stop it. Her dad was a stand-up guy and had always treated me with respect, something that I had never experienced before. I would miss him, as I would the rest of the people that I had started to think of as friends, maybe even family.

I stole another glance before looking back at the slowly burning fire. I guess the best way I could honor him, would be to do whatever I could to keep her safe, to make sure she went on living, if that's what you called this.

I bit my lip hard to keep from crying and turned my face away from the fire's light so Daryl wouldn't see. I know he doesn't like it when I cry. It been exactly a week since I'd lost my father. I knew this for a fact, because I kept a journal. I'd found it buried deep in the bottom of my old backpack that I'd grabbed before all the chaos. The first few pages were filled with old high school drama. The pages seemed to mock me. They were filled with nonsense. Filled with in depth details of a dumb argument I'd had with my dead boyfriend, Jimmy, and my anxiety over my upcoming exams. It seemed so pointless now. Now, the journal was filled with the day to day horrors that we faced and my hopes for survival. There were so many things I hadn't gotten to do yet, but none of those things mattered now. All I could focus on was getting through the night until tomorrow.

"Are you sure we're safe here?" I asked softly, not wanting to anger Daryl by questioning his judgement. We were in the middle of a forest, and I was afraid that walkers would pounce upon us in the night. My eyes flashed to Daryl's for the first time since the fire had been lit. I hoped he wouldn't notice their glassy look and the red, puffiness that surrounded them.

"Safe as anywhere I suppose." I said after a few minutes.

Safe? Safe? Was she fucking crazy? If the events of the last week had shown that we weren't safe anywhere? We hadn't been safe on her dad's farm. We hadn't been safe on the road. We hadn't been safe behind the goddamned concrete walls of the prison. Adding everything together, it was a safe fucking bet that we weren't safe setting out in the open like this, especially at night.

I was about ready to explode when I looked at her. Even by the dim light of the fire I could see that she had been crying. I didn't blame her for that, it's what people did; well, people except me anyways. I'd never seen the use of it. You could sit there and blubber on and on about this and that and when you were all cried out they would all still be dead, we would still be alone, and things would still fucking suck. On the other hand, I had never had anything to cry over. Even with as much as I liked Hershel, I had always remained convinced that one day he would see me for what I was and walk away, just like everyone else.

"You should get some sleep." I said throwing a few more sticks on the fire. "I'll keep a look out."

I sighed and nodded, though I disagreed. I wish there was some place we could go inside to rest, and not be out in the open like this. Then again, even the supposed sanctity of the prison did not last.

When he told me to go to sleep, I rose from the log I was seated on and tried to find the softest piece of ground to lay my head. "Wake me up when it's my turn to take watch," I told him. Of all the people to be stuck with, I was both grateful and resentful that my companion was Daryl. He was probably the most capable of the bunch for survival, but he was not the best companion when it came to socialization. I had been so lonely the past week. Daryl barely said anything to me. He only spoke when necessary. Dejectedly, I laid my head down upon my pack, using it as a makeshift pillow. I turned away from him, so he wouldn't see me pray. I knew he didn't believe in that sort of thing.

I clasped my hands together and closed my eyes hard. First, I thanked God for my and Daryl's survival. I prayed for my sister, Maggie, and the rest of our group who were missing. I prayed for Daryl's safety during the night's watch, and most of all, I prayed for a miracle to happen that would eradicate the zombies from our home. I ended it with another thank you and an amen, then tried to get as comfortable as I possibly could given the circumstances.

"Wake me up when it's my turn to take watch." she said before shuffling around and then finally laying down.

"Sure." I said knowing full well that there was little to no chance of that. It wasn't so much that I didn't trust her, it was...who was I kidding, of course I didn't trust her. We had both been running on empty for days and when we weren't hiding or killing walkers or looking for food, she was crying. She needed the rest and I needed the quiet.

I settled back and go comfortable against the tree I had been leaning on. I pulled out my knife and whet stone and began making smooth slow strokes along its length. It was something I had done since I was a teenager. "There's no use carrying a goddamned knife if the fuckin thing is dull." Mearle used to tell me. He was a sadistic asshole that spent the bulk of the time we knew each other torturing me or anyone else in his path, but every once in a while he passed on a nugget of wisdom.

I watched Beth's breathing drop to a slow and steady rhythm after she finished her praying. She would always try to hide it from me, but she wasn't very good at it. I smiled at the notion. What kind of God would let this kind of shit happen to people he supposedly loved. It was ridiculous. Still, she prayed for me and I had to admire her for that. I knew myself well enough to know that I wasn't very good at the person to person stuff. I could keep her alive, and keep her safe and fed, but I couldn't see myself ever understanding all of the feelings kind of stuff. I liked Beth. I actually liked her a good bit. She was kind and caring. Like her dad, she had always treated me like I was someone, like I deserved respect. She was still optimistic, which drove me fucking crazy sometimes, but I guess when you are still younger, you can afford to have hope.

Take all of that, and wrap it in pretty package like her, and you have quite an exceptional woman. Her blonde hair would almost sparkle in the sunlight sometimes, and in between the crying and the fighting, her soft blue eyes held a kindness that I had never known until I met her. I hated to admit it, but more than once I had stumbled as we were walking because I was more focused on the sway of her hips then where I was going.

Still, girls like her didn't end up with guys like me. She was Hershel's princess, and I was the hired help. I put my knife and stone away, and grabbed the last bit of jerky that I had left. I sat there, looking around and listening for anything that could be a threat, before my eyes settled back on Beth, and her slow gentle breathing.

"It'll be dawn soon." I whispered to myself. "C'mon sunrise."

I fell asleep quickly that night. I was worn out from all the walking, but mostly from all the crying. I'd had a constant headache that hadn't left me since the events at the prison. Maggie always told me too much crying would lead to a nasty headache, and she was right.

Though I slept, my thoughts did not. They simply morphed into dreams and nightmares. Tonight I dreamed about Jimmy. We walked through the forest together, much like Daryl and I had, but the world was hazy and unclear. Various people from my high school passed us by, but no one could hear us call or stop to help. They walked like zombies, but they didn't notice us. At least for now.

"Beth," Jimmy said. His voice sounded lower than usual as he hurried along in front of me. "You gotta move faster."

"I'm trying, Jimmy," I insisted. My voice sounded flat and dead. I tried to pick up my pace, but my legs felt unsturdy like a child's. I couldn't keep up. "Jimmy, wait!" I called. He didn't look back. I tried again, but no words came out. My voice was broken. I kept trying over and over, but he kept getting farther and farther away.

The classmates milling around us faltered in their movement for a moment, and one by one they turned to me. Their faces morphed and mutated. Jaws fell off of mouths, eyes hung by cords, grey matter leaked out of gaping holes in their heads. They were all turning into zombies, and Jimmy was leaving me behind!

"Jimmy!" I cried. "Help me!"

At last, he turned around. He grinned at me, knowing full well that I could not keep up. His eyes turned dark as his hair lightened. His body seemed to elongate and change. I was afraid he was turning into a zombie like the rest of them, but instead, the face of Daryl Dickson emerged from the hazy fog, still with the same smug, uncaring look that Jimmy had.

"Come back!" I cried. My voice was weak in the dream, but it had changed from soft cries to loud shrieks in real life. They were loud enough for Daryl to hear now... and any nearby walkers.

"Don't leave me! Don't leave me, Daryl!"

I must have drifted off about a half hour before daybreak. Thankfully, I woke up without anything chewing on me and when I looked over to where Beth was sleeping, she seemed to be ok too, save what must have been a bad dream.

I stood and stretched, fighting that dizzy feeling you get when you stand up to fast. In the distance I heard a few birds chirping, and I smiled to myself knowing that the morning sun would soon be making an appearance. The woods were quiet, they way I liked them, and the morning air was crisp and fresh. I needed to piss, so with another quick glance to Beth, I started walking a few yards away to afford myself some privacy. I was standing there, mid morning glory when I hear talking behind me.

"Come back..." she moaned as I got near her. "Don't leave me! Don't leave me, Daryl!" she suddenly screamed.

I dropped to my knees beside her and grabbed her arms. "Beth!" I said firmly giving her a gentle shake. "Beth! Wake up goddamit!" I said more sternly as I shook her harder to wake her. I started looking around, trying to see if the noise had attracted anything. I didn't see anything yet, but if we kept it up we would be in some pretty deep shit. "Wake the fuck up!" I finally shouted, my fingers clenching her arms tightly.

I cried louder as Daryl's fingers dug into my arm. Those fingers were not his, but those of one of the grotesque creatures clawing at my flesh. Vaguely, somewhere in the distance far away, I heard the voice of the real Daryl and my eyes flickered slightly.

I awoke just as he swore at me and his fingers gripped tighter. I let out a surprised gasp as I stared up at him. He looked angry. I was silent for a moment as my thoughts caught up to what my eyes saw. "I had a nightmare," I said dumbly. I swallowed hard and pulled out of his grasp.

I was relieved to see him still with me, but part of me was also fearful of his wrath.

"A nightmare!" I thundered. "We are fucking living a nightmare! Jesus fucking Christ! I bust my fuckin balls to get us someplace where no one or nothing can fucking find us and you make enough fuckin noise for every walker for three counties to know exactly where in the fuck we are!"

I stood up and stomped the ashes of our campfire that had long since gone cold. I realized as I stomped around the stupidity of my yelling at her. I was bitching about the little bit of noise she had made and was standing here making ten times as much. I wasn't pissed about the nightmare. I wasn't pissed that she had called out. Honestly I didn't know what I was pissed about. It was like there was this constant sea of anger bubbling beneath the surface and I had to devote so much of my energy to keep it from erupting to the surface. I stood there, panting, enraged trying to think of the next thing I could say, when I looked into her eyes and saw something that I had never seen her convey towards me...fear.

I grabbed my crossbow and pack, heaving it up on my shoulder. "Pick up your shit, we gotta move." I spat as I started off stomping through the woods.

Daryl's outburst scared me. He'd never yelled so loudly at me before. I didn't deserve this. I narrowed my eyes at him even as I felt tears start to well up again. I wish I could stop crying. I wish I was stronger than this. I stumbled to my feet and grabbed my backpack. I slung it over my shoulder and followed Daryl further into the wilderness. It was hard to keep up with him.

He wouldn't even care if I left, I realized, as I watched him stomp off through the woods. I was just a burden to him. I felt worthless.

But I didn't want to die, and Daryl was my only hope of living. I wasn't stupid, but I was weak. I knew I was. Sure, I could aim and shoot a gun--sort of--but I didn't have nearly as much experience killing walkers as Daryl did. I also didn't know my way around the woods. I'd get lost and end up dead. So I carried on, sniveling along behind him. No words were exchanged between us. Despite his presence, I felt inexplicably alone.

We walked on for a while. That was us. Always walking. My stomach grumbled but I tried to ignore it. I knew Daryl would fetch us some squirrel or something to eat once we stopped. I'd get us a shelter ready and then try to start the fire, but would never be able to on my own. Daryl would come back, squirrels slung over his back, and take over, getting it lit under a minute. This was how it had been for the past week, and tonight would be no different.

I never bothered to ask Daryl if he had a plan. I was pretty sure he didn't anyway. If it were up to me, we'd find someplace to settle down and make some sort of life for ourselves. Someplace dingy and dark that no one would want and no walkers would ever find us. I didn't tell him this. I kept silent as I carried along behind him.

We trudged on for the better part of the day. I was tired and hungry, but I didn't want to stop. We had put a mile or so between us and the noise we made at the campsite, so I was sure we were clear, of walkers anyway, but if we stopped what happened this morning would be right there in front of us. I had been a bit too hard on Beth, and I knew it. I am sure she did too, but she didn't say anything about it. In fact, she didn't say anything. There was so much she could say, maybe even should say, but instead she walked on behind me in silence.

I started noticing that the woods were getting lighter and lighter and that there was a lot more brush and bramble scattered throughout the trees. In a few minutes we broke into a clearing and I scanned around us to see if there was anything around us. A few seconds later Beth caught up with me and we both stood there, breathing hard, and surveying the area.

"There." I said pointing toward the right. On the second scan of the clearing, I saw the top of what looked like a chimney jutting up just past a small group of trees. I figured that we could stop here for the night, and I would have a chance to catch up on some much needed sleep, and maybe be able to relax for a minute or two.

I looked at Beth, and the weight of my pack seemed to increase ten fold. Her pale cheeks were flushed, and sweat had wet her hair causing it to stick to her forehead. Her eyes were to the ground, and she looked as if she could fall over any moment from exhaustion. It had been a hard day, but she hadn't given up, and there was no denying that she was stronger than she let on.

"Hey." I said trying to get her to look at me. "You did good today."

That was about as close to I'm sorry as I could muster. I had never had a use for apologies, because it always seemed that it never made anything any better. People would always say they were sorry and then let you down or fuck you over again, hoping the next Sorry would make it all better.

"How about we clear that house, and then I'll get us something to eat. Maybe you can sleep on a bed tonight instead of the ground..." I stepped to her and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Might help keep them bad dreams away." I said managing a small grin.

I followed behind Daryl like an obedient dog for the greater part of the day. It was pretty miserable. The sun shone too brightly and felt harsh on my pale skin. The brambles caught at my pants legs and tried to make me trip. There were so many things I wanted to complain about, but I knew Daryl wouldn't like my "bitchin" as he called it. The silence sucked the most. It was true Daryl and I didn't talk much, but today we didn't even say a word. A few times I wondered if he knew that I was still following him, or if he even cared. It was hard to keep up with his stride. I was petite, and Daryl was so much bigger than me. I had to take two steps for every one of his.

I looked overhead and watched the sun progress through the trees throughout the day. I relished in the cool breeze that caressed my face as the sky darkened and the sun began to set at last. I wasn't doing a very good job at watching where we were going like Daryl was, so I was pleasantly surprised when we emerged into a clearing and Daryl stopped walking.

I breathed heavily and directed my gaze to the ground. My shoes had seen better days. "Hey." My gaze shot up to Daryl in surprise. This was the first word he'd said to me all day. "You did good today," he told me. I blurted out a laugh. Daryl was actually complimenting me? I hadn't even done anything.

"Thanks, dad," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

It was then that Daryl pointed off into the distance, and I saw a chimney barely jutting out above the trees. A smile crossed my face. Finally! We'd been sleeping on the ground ever since we left the prison. Tonight would be a blessing. God had answered my prayers.

"How about we clear that house, and then I'll get us something to eat. Maybe you can sleep on a bed tonight instead of the ground..." Daryl said, coming over to me and placing a hand gently on my shoulder. "Might help keep them bad dreams away."

Then he smiled.

I laughed again. So he was being genuine! Why was he being so kind? Before I gave myself time to think, I lunged forward and hugged the sweaty, greasy, strong man that was Daryl Dixon. "Thank you," I said, whispering the words into his chest. This was the first physical contact I'd had since I'd been at the prison. It felt strange to hold someone again, but comforting, even if that man was Daryl Dixon.

For a moment, I just stood there with my arms to my side. To say I was shocked by the sudden embrace would have been the understatement of the century. In fact, I couldn't have been more surprised if I had woken up this morning with my face sewn to an elephant. Still, it felt kind of nice, and shortly my arms wrapped around her and returned the hug. I could feel her warm breath on my skin as she whispered her thanks through my shirt and the sensation shot through my body bringing to life reactions that I hadn't allowed to surface in years.

I stepped back quickly and looked at her. The sadness in her eyes from before had vanished and they sparkled a crystal blue as we looked at each other. Her cute smile was infectious and I couldn't help but return it. Part of me, would have liked to just stay there, and enjoy the break in the tension between us, but I knew it was time to get back to it. If we managed to clear the house without getting bit or dead, we could set back and take it easy for at least one night.

"C'mon, let's get this over with." I said with a nod toward the house, and I started to make my way across the clearing.

I was taking my time approaching the house. Walkers weren't the only thing that we needed to look out for. We weren't the only ones that were trying to survive out here and an empty house would look mighty inviting to anyone needing a secure place to rest. I slid my backpack off my shoulder and laid it on the ground about twenty yards from the entrance. I unfastened the clasp on my knife sheath and brought the crossbow to my shoulder. This was go time. This was when everything else that was going on didn't matter. This was when you got focused or you got killed, plain and simple.

I looked back at Beth and brought my finger to my lips, signaling to be quiet. This wasn't the first time we had done this, but it was a ritual that I went through every time, no matter who I was with. I took the lead and started toward the steps to the front door.

I smiled into Daryl's chest when his arms encircled around me. I was afraid he wasn't going to hug me back for a moment, but here he was, relaxing into my embrace. It made me feel like I was cared about. I closed my eyes and wanted to feel so protected forever. The hug made me feel safer than even his crossbow did.

Daryl pulled away all too soon after I whispered into his chest, but he did return my smile. It was strange to see him smile. It almost looked painful, in a way, as if his lips had forgotten how to move in that upturned motion. "C'mon, lets get this over with," he told me, setting off for the house. I followed along after him and got my knife at the ready. The gun in my pack was out of bullets; I'd used them all up at the prison. Now, all I had was the slender knife to defend myself with.

Soon we were at the front door. Daryl turned around with a finger on his lips, silently telling me to be quiet. I already knew this, of course, but this action was a ritual for Daryl and I didn't see any point in making him stop. I followed him into the house. He'd opened the door quietly, but it still projected an ominous creak as it's hinges were tried. This was a good sign. It meant it hadn't been open recently. We entered into a long hallway. There was a closed door to our right and a staircase straight ahead. To the left was an opening into the parlor. We checked the shut door first, and, finding nothing harmful inside, proceeded into the parlor.

My grip on my knife tightened as we entered, but there was no need. The only resident was a decaying dead women sitting in a rocking chair with a bottle of pills on the armrest beside her. The sight made me sick. Not because of the decaying body, but because it reminded me of my weak suicide attempt back in the farmhouse. I had been so selfish. I averted my gaze and moved further into the parlor as Daryl did the same. We checked the room thoroughly, but found nothing. There was a cabinet with various knickknacks and a dresser drawer. I wanted to look inside, but I knew we had to make sure the house was clear first.

I went into the kitchen next. There was a pan with burnt cookies on it in the oven, black bananas on the counter, and a bowl of m&ms on the dining table. I gasped in surprise and rushed towards them. They looked well enough. Candy stayed good forever, didn't it? "Look, Daryl!" I said excitedly, holding out the bowl to him.

It was then I heard a growling noise from behind me, and I whirled around. A walker was approaching. It was only a child, barely older than ten. I dropped the m&ms in surprise as my knife shook. I had only to step forward and step it in the head, but I hesitated. Stupid, stupid. The thing came closer, it's skin grey and covered in muck. His clothes were rags and his right arm was bitten off. It was impossible to differentiate the freckles across his cheeks from the blood splatters that covered him. He came closer still and opened his mouth to chomp, and this motion was all it took for me to gather my courage and stab him in the skull, my knife plowing through bone and then his grey matter. The boy struggled for a moment then stilled and collapsed at my feet. My knife was still lodged in his brain and blood and brain tissue was slowly seeping out and coating my knife. I stood in shock. I'd never killed a walker so young before. I turned to look back at Daryl, breathing hard. "I think... I think we should check upstairs," I said, having already looked around this floor.

I had only taken my mind off of the task at hand but that was enough. She had looked so happy at her find of the M&M's, that I couldn't help myself. I just stood there watching as the excitement of her find spread from her eyes, to the rest of her face, then through her body and outward. She almost lit up the room with her happiness, and even I had to admit it was infectious. As quickly as the moment started it faded as the familiar groan and growl of a dead head boomed into the kitchen.


People always talk about how time seems to stand still during extreme situations. For the most part, I had always found this to be bullshit. You don't think, you don't hesitate. You either react or you die. The bowl Beth held dropped to the floor, shattering and sending multicolored candies bouncing everywhere. She whirled around toward the source of the noise and I clicked the saftey off of the crossbow. The problem was, I didn't have a clear shot. She was standing directly in front of me, between me and the little monster, and with the countertop on one side and the table on the other, by the time I could move around it would be too late.

'What the fuck is she waiting for?' I thought. She was just standing there, the knife in her hand, letting this thing get closer and closer. I knew she had killed walkers before, so I didn't think she was afraid, but I couldn't comprehend why she hadn't made a move. I thought maybe it was because this one had been a kid. I had seen people hesitate before because of it, but it wasn't a kid anymore. It was a parasite, and a deadly one. I had long since stopped thinking of them as people. They were just walking, rotting rats, that needed to be exterminated. I had killed hundreds of these things and it just kept getting easier.

I started to yell, but didn't get the chance as she lunged forward and buried her knife to the hilt in the little fucker's head. It quivered and then fell at her feet with the familiar scraping/sucking sound as the blade withdrew. She turned and looked at me. She seemd a bit frazzled and I thought I might have even seen a small trmble in her lips as she said, "I think... I think we should check upstairs." I could tell by the way she spoke that she was still a little shaken up. There would be time for that kind of thing later, right now we needed to make sure there wouldn't be anymore surprises.

"Yeah, no shit." I said matter of factly as I stepped around the table toward the kitchen's exit. "This time I go first."

I started up the stairway, keeping my crossbow trained upward, and sweeping from side to side. I had always hated in movies where people when up the steps and then looked around. This was by far the most dangerous part of the house, because you were bottled in with no way to escape. We got to the top and Stood in front of the first door we came to on my right. I motioned for Beth to open it while I stood ready to go in and clear it. As soon as the door started to open, I kicked it the rest of the way jerking the knob out of her hand. It hit the wall with a crash and little dead Annie at the other side of the room turned and started towards me. I sueezed the trigger and added yet one more hole to the hollow orb filled ones on her face. I grabbed another bolt and recocked the crossbow. I check the rest of the room, including the closet and then turned back toward the door.

"That's two down. Grandma's downstairs, and the two rugrats are done...where's Mom and Dad?" I asked as I stepped back into the hallway so we could continue.

I followed Daryl up the staircase obediently, watching as he zig-zagged back and forth, scanning for walkers. I was still a little shaken from killing the child. I'd killed zombies that were fully grown before with the others in the prison, but this one was young and I'd done it alone. I supposed I ought to get used to it.

In the first room upstairs, there was a little girl who charged at us. Daryl killed her without hesitation; shot an arrow straight through her eye and then suggested we move on. I still wasn't sure if it was admirable that Daryl was able to kill walkers so easily, or if it were reprehensible. Sometimes, it made me uncomfortable, wondering how he could just kill someone like that. I know, I know; Daryl and the rest of his group had told us time and time again that they weren't people any longer, but that didn't lessen the love I had for my zombified mother and brother who'd lived in the barn for several months. It had taken me a very long time to come to terms with the fact that there was no cure for them, and we had to kill them in order to survive. We couldn't lock all the walkers up.There were too many of them.

I stayed behind Daryl as we checked several more of the upstairs rooms, but they were all empty. When we reached the end of the hallway and the final door, I said, "Well, they're either in here or nowhere." My hand gripped the doorknob and I yanked it open. There was nothing to see at first, so we headed in. It was likely the parents' bedroom. It had a large king-sized bed and two closets. There was some pretty jewelry on the nightstand, as well as several shot glasses that were covered in dust. "Hmm..." I turned to one of the closets and yanked it open, heart beating fast. No matter how many times I snuck around abandoned houses and the like, I always felt a rush of adrenaline each time I opened a new door. Luckily for me, there was nothing inside. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe we could actually have refuge here.

I was pretty relieved when the house was finally clear. It would be nice to be able to kick back for a night and not have to worry about staying up to keep watch. I opened the second closet to see if there was anything useful, but unfortunately, these people must nor have been into having weapons in the house. Maybe that's why they were dead, if they were dead.

"Let's grab our packs and bring them in. We should check all of the doors and windows and make sure they are secure, and then I'll go see if I can kill us something to eat."

I headed back out of the door and toward the room where I had put down the kid. I yanked the arrow out of her head and wiped it on the curtains that hung in her window. I looked down at her for a moment wondering where he parents were. Were they at work when things went to shit? Were they still out there, trying to make their way home? It must have been hard for them, to be here, wondering what had happened and why their mom and dad never came back. I knew that feeling. I knew what it felt like to wait, day after day, hoping to see them walk through the door and take you in their arms and tell you everything was going to be ok. I knew what it felt like to wonder if they were gone because I had done something wrong, or that they just stopped giving a shit. I knew what it was to finally make up your mind that you didn't give a fuck anymore, and promise yourself that you would never let anyone get close enough to hurt you like that again.

"Sorry." I whispered before I walked out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. It would be dark in a couple of hours and I was starting to feel the lack of sleep and hunger. It was time to become a hunter, again.

While Daryl was out hunting, I secured the doors and windows and did some scavenging. There wasn't anything more useful on my second time around than there had been when Daryl and I had initially checked out the house. Still, I liked to treasure hunt. There weren't any weapons or edible food, but sometimes there were knickknacks I liked to collect. I never told Daryl this; I knew he'd tell me I was just slowing us down with the trinkets I secretly stuffed in my bag. I wasn't stupid about it though. I never brought anything big; just the occasional necklace or picture to remind me about the trivial things from before. It gave me hope that those times could come again.

After I'd locked all the doors and windows, I headed back upstairs to the parents' room, hoping to find some new clothes. We had no means to wash ours, and even though my sense of smell for body odor had long since vanished given the great amount of time I spent around sweaty, stinky people--both dead and alive--I still did not like wandering around in clothes all mucked up with blood and dirt. It was uncomfortable to tread around in clothes made heavy with the guts of zombies, not to mention disgusting. Daryl didn't seem to mind much, but I did. So I began my search. I tore open drawers and closets, but most of the clothes I came across were far too big. Good thing we hadn't run into this zombified woman, I thought as I sifted through her belongings, judging from her triple XL sweatpants she'd be hard to take down.

At last, I found something decent in the bottom drawer. It was an old t-shirt with some resort name on it, likely a souvenir from her honeymoon or something, given the great difference in size. I picked it up to try on, and underneath it I found some old lacy thing. Curious, I pulled it out. It was some lacy lingerie. Now this, this was the real relic from the honeymoon. I pulled it, along with the t-shirt, out of the dresser and held it up to my body. It was so pretty. I smiled briefly at my reflection, imagining what Jimmy would think if he saw me in this. He'd always bugged me about the boring cotton underwear I wore (on the rare occasions that I'd let him see) so I bet he'd love this little thing. These thoughts were pleasant enough at first, but they inevitably turned sour when I thought of his death. I cast the lingerie aside and wiped my eyes of the tears that had just begun to fall. I went back to the old resort t-shirt and pulled it over my head after I'd discarded my old blood-stained tanktop. It was still a little big, but it was much more comfortable than the clingy, sweat laden, bloody smock I'd worn earlier.

So my bloody tanktop lay next to the fancy lingerie that I hadn't bothered to pick up. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed by a sense of great fatigue. I'd done my job securing the doors and windows. Surely I could just settle down on the bed for a little while until Daryl came back. I went to the double bed and sprawled out upon it. It was beyond comfortable. I don't think I'd been in a bed since the prison, and those racks hadn't even been real beds. This was like Heaven. I rolled back and forth on the soft fabric in ecstasy before settling in to the soft sheets and waiting for Daryl to return.

I'm not going to lie. This was my favorite part of the world as everyone else knew it ending. Mostly, because this wasn't all that different from what my life was before. Hungry, dirty, tired, and on the hunt for something to eat; these were pretty much the constants that I had become accustomed to. The biggest difference now, was that no one was going to try to arrest me or run me off of their land. The only things I really had to fear were walkers and the chance of running onto someone else out here looking for the same thing I was. The walkers weren't much of a worry really. I could handle them when I was on my own. I could move faster to evade them ro just kill them if there were a small enough number of them, but other people, that could be a different matter. There was always the chance that they could be better trained or have better weapons, and that could mean the end for me if I wasn't careful.

Another thing I had to think about was the fact that it wasn't just about me anymore. I had Beth to think about. She was stronger than she let on, or even that I let on, but she was also naïve, and in times like this, that could be a death sentence. She was smart, and learned fast, but hadn't had the years of being tested over and over again to harden her up and give her that survival instinct. There was still a lot of that sweet little farm girl in her and even though I would never let her know, I was glad about that. I bitched, pissed, and moaned about her a lot, but as much as I hated to admit it, I liked having her around. She seemed to bring whatever could be considered the best of me out, and I liked the feeling of someone depending on me, or at least seeming like they needed me.

I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I stopped moving and slowed my breathing, becoming deathly quiet and trying to listen for any indication of what I had seen. It was too small for a walker, and was the wrong color for a rabbit. I had just caught a flash of white, before it disappeared into the brush. I scoured every single twig and leaf, looking for another sign of what was near. I was starving so it didn't matter. Whatever it was, was going to be dinner shortly. Again, a flash of white, and the movement of a few leaves. It was moving away from me to my left, so I turned slowly trying to get into position for a shot. my heart was beginning to thud in my chest, and my breaths were becoming a little shallower. It was like this every time, and I embraced it. It wasn't that was scared or nervous, it was just anticipation of the kill. I raised the crossbow to my shoulder and placed my finger gently on the trigger. I slid the safety forward with a gentle click and waited. There was an opening in the brush about three feet ahead of whatever was moving, and although it was narrow, that would be the place to take my shot. A few seconds later, a jerking head made its way into the opening followed by a snow white feather covered body...a fucking chicken!

I almost lost my head at the thought of eating something besides squirrel or rabbit, or whatever else. I exhaled and gently squeezed the trigger. The string of the crossbow thudded against the stops and I watched in seemingly slow motion as the arrow followed the trajectory I had set it on and pierced through the wing and body of the bird, pinning it to the ground. I couldn't help but smile at my own success, and I smiled even wider when I held it up to admire my handiwork in the fading sunlight.

I grabbed my arrow and headed back for the house. I cursed myself for smiling like an idiot, as I reached the steps of the front porch. I couldn't figure out why I was so happy. This wasn't the first time I had killed something and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. Was it the fact that it was a chicken? Was it that I would have a bed to rest in tonight instead of sleeping on the ground if I slept at all? Or was it something else entirely? Was I hoping to impress Beth with my success? Was I hoping to secure her everlasting admiration at furnishing them with a poultry dinner? I shook my head to dismiss the thought and then spit over the railing of the porch as if ceremoniously ridding myself of such craziness. I took a quick look around before gently kicking the bottom of the door with my boot.

"Honey, I'm home." I said with my stupid grin returning.

Beth had just started to fall asleep when a gruff voice broke through her hazy thoughts and brought her back to reality. "Honey, I'm home," she heard. It wasn't shouted, but Beth still heard it. Her senses were always on red alert these days. She laughed openly at the words. It wasn't like Daryl to crack a joke. She imagined herself as a 50's housewife. She'd just cleaned and swept the house and now her loving husband was home from work... except that cleaning the house meant wiping up zombie guts and Daryl was far from her husband. He was at least double her age!

She bounced up and off the bed lazily. She didn't really want to move, but she knew she'd have to help Daryl cook the rabbit or snake or whatever he'd managed to catch them. It was then she noticed the lingerie still lying on the floor. She hastily shoved it back into the bottom drawer, not wanting Daryl to think she'd wasted her time playing dressup, especially dressup of that nature.

After she'd dealt with that, Beth scurried down the stairs and met Daryl in the entryway. She was shocked at what he held. A chicken. An honest to God chicken. She had to hold back a girlish shriek of joy. "Where did you get that?" she asked in awe. There were no farms around here, as far as she knew. "That's amazing. You're amazing," she laughed happily. Daryl had an uncharacteristic grin on his face as well. He was obviously pleased with his catch. "Let's light a fire and cook this up right away!"

"Where did you get that?" she asked, the disbelief evident in her tone. Honestly, I couldn't blame her. It had been quite a while since we had eaten anything that wasn't at one time considered a rodent or pest, and although the house was isolated, it wasn't set up like a farm.

"Just a couple hundred yards from here. I couldn't belive it myself when I saw it." I told her honestly.

"That's amazing. You're amazing." she said the joy evident in her voice and her broad smile adding even more sparkle to her bright eyes. "Let's light a fire and cook this up right away!"

Her hapiness was infectious, and I couldn't help but laugh and smile broadly along with her. I had to admit I liked seeing her like this. The last couple of weeks had been miserable, but all of that seemed to vanish with one little bird.

"Good idea." I said sitting my crossbow down and leaning it against the wall. "How about you start the fire in the fireplace, and I'll go take care of this." I said nodding toward the lifeless bird in my hand. Maybe we can find some salt and pepper around here to go on it."

I grabbed for my knife and pulled it out of its sheath. It was rare that I would ever venture out without my weapon, but I figured i could make pretty quick work of removing the feathers, and I hadn't seen any sign of walkers while I was out. Without waiting for her to answer, I turned and headed back out the door. I figured she would be able to get the fire going easy enough. She had done it a couple of times, and although I usually just went ahead and took care of it, I wanted her to feel like she was contributing.

I noticed that Daryl was still smiling even as I left him to start up the fire. He must be proud of his kill. I knew I would be had I made it. As I walked over to the fireplace, a wonderful thought crossed my mind: Perhaps there was a farm nearby, and we'd simply missed it. Maybe that was where the chicken had come from. It was doubtful a chicken would be nomadic, I chuckled at the thought. I would have to raise this point to Daryl at dinner. Living on a farm would be ideal. Maybe it would be different than last time...

I took out a lighter and began to build the fire. This was something I'd gotten good at over the months. Sometimes, I was even able to light a fire without a lighter by rubbing sticks together furiously and angling the sun with a glass. My arm muscles always ached afterward though. I was glad I didn't have to worry about that now. We were inside, after all, so the sun wasn't an option. Plus, it was beginning to set. My only worry was that someone malicious would see the smoke and come and try to take this house for their own. I used to think most people were good, I guess I still believe that, but I am wary now, especially after what happened at the prison.

After the fire was lit, I sat back in one of the chairs before it and rested my eyes. "Daryl? You almost ready?" I called after a while, stomach rumbling in hunger.

I had always hated plucking the feathers off these goddamned things. It makes such a fucking mess, but I was getting so hungry by the time I had them all picked off that it didn't matter anymore. Next was on to the gutting. This part smelled, but was part of it, so I just made a small incision at its ass and went after it. I stuck my knife in a tree I was standing beside so that it would be handy if I needed it, but wouldn't fill my sheath with nastiness. This operation was a lot easier if I had a pot of boiling water, but since I didn't, I just dealt with it.

I caught a whiff of smoke from the fire inside and couldn't help but smile at Beth's success. She had seemed so happy at the sight of the bird, and now that she had built the fire, I could only imagine how anxious she was to roast it. As if she was reading my mind, I heard her call from inside.

"Daryl? You almost ready?" she said, the impatience causing a slight squeal to her voice.

"Just about. Give me another..." I had turned to yell at the house, making sure she could hear me when I saw two walkers not twenty yards from where I was standing. As son as they heard the first note of my voice, they turned and started making a bee line for me. I looked around for a place to drop the chicken, deciding a patch of grass would suffice until I had dealt with the dead heads. I gave it a toss to safety, and then turned to the tree for my knife. The fat from the bird on my hands made them slick and my hand slipped from the handle, leaving it in the tree.

"Motherfucker!" I yelled grabbing for it again as the closest geek's fingers grasp at my shirt. "Beth! Grab the fuckin bow!" I called hoping that she would understand as I fell to the ground, knife in hand, trying to get a open shot at it's cranium.

I poked the fire absentmindedly, waiting for Daryl's return. It wouldn't be long before the succulent chicken filled each of our bellies and we could go to sleep. I was wondering what bed I would chose. We had the large double bed, and the two singles that had belonged to the children. I assumed Daryl wanted the larger one, and he certainly did deserve it. Secretly I was hoping he'd give it to me, but I knew that was probably unlikely. I was just about to call him again when I heard his gruff voice yell out a curse. "Daryl?!" I shouted, adrenaline filling my blood. I sprung up from the chair before he'd even given me the instruction to get his crossbow. Daryl cursed a lot around me, but when he was alone he was generally silent. Something was wrong.

I grabbed his crossbow from beside the front door and bolted outside, crossbow already raised. I caught Daryl in a scuffle with two walkers. One was on top of him on the ground and the other was quickly closing in. Daryl was trying to stab his knife into the one on top of him's head without much luck. I tossed the crossbow to the ground--Daryl had tried to teach me how to use it, but I didn't want to risk hitting Daryl instead of the walker--and wrenched my knife from my belt. Without hesitation I leaped forward and embedded the knife into the back of the walker. I was so afraid, not of the walker itself, but of the prospect of getting on in this world without Daryl. I stabbed the walker in the brain again and again until I was positive it was dead. The second geek was still shambling towards us, with one leg nearly disintegrated it didn't move very fast.

"Here," I said to Daryl, thrusting his crossbow at him so he could defend himself. Then I ran towards the incoming walker in a fury. No one was going to take Daryl from me; not a human, not a walker, not anything. He was all I had left. With a animal roar I lunged forward and stabbed the knife into the walker's eye. It was dead on. If I hadn't been filled with such determination coupled with fear I may have been proud of myself. I twisted the knife in deeper as the walker flung it's arms around near me, trying to get me, but it was already losing it's second life. It crumpled to the forest floor and I pulled my knife out. It made a sick squelching sound. I wrinkled my noise and ran back to Daryl. Kneeling down beside him, I grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him up, "Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay. You're not bitten, right?" There was great worry in the depths of my blue eyes as I tried to catch my breath. If Daryl died... I might as well be dead too.

I was sitting there, panting hard and trying to make sense of the last few minutes. Not only had Beth saved my ass, but she had done it in a way so unbecoming the shy reserved little girl of months ago. She had moved with speed and purpose. She had dispatched both of the walkers with a mixture of rage and fear that I had never thought possible from her. She had been fierce and primal, killing them up close and personal with her knife instead of at a safe distance with my bow. I kept looking from the rotting bodies lying around us to her, trying to figure out how I had missed the poetential for violence that she had kept hidden insed of her. I both admired and feared her for the first time.

"Are you okay? Please tell me your okay. You're not bitten, right?" she said tugging on my shoulders, her voice strained and panicked.

I wanted to thank her. I wanted to tell her how proud of her I was, but those things had never come easily for me. INside I knew that was no excuse, because I knew how it felt to never be praised for my accomplishments. In fact, feeling needed and appreciated were things I had never experienced until I met this group, so I still wasn't sure how to reciprocate.
Instead, I just leaned forward and dropping the bow, I put my arms around her and pulled her tightly to me.

"I'm fine Beth. Good work with them...thanks." I whispered, hoping that she could hear my feeble attempt at praise.

I released her soon after and rolling away made it to my feet. I bent to pick up the bow and then looked over to where I had thrown the bird. It was covered in grass and dirt, but I figured if I found a stall creek or stream nearby, I could rinse it off. I walked over and picked it up, turning to her.

"You hungry?"