"Are we close?" Beth whispered, crouching in the leaves with Daryl's crossbow to the ready.
"Almost done." Daryl answered.
"How do you know?"
"The signs are all there, you just gotta know how to read em." Daryl quipped.
Beth lowered the bow and examined the ground. Daryl had been doing his best to teach her the basics of tracking, and she was doing the best she could to absorb all the information. He took a hands-off approach to teaching, letting her do most of the work and pointing out her mistakes with a snarky remark and throwing in the odd pointer or two. So far it was working well; once Daryl pointed out that they spent the first hour and a half following their own tracks. Beth memorized their boot prints, to avoid repeating her mistake.
"What are we tracking?" Beth asked.
"You tell me…" He said matter-of-factly. "You're the one that wanted to learn."
She lowered the cross bow and stood up just giving him a look. He already yelled at her twice about minding her aim, once she pointed it at Daryl while she asked a question and the second time she almost shot her foot off. She took extra care now not to repeat that mistake. He was right, she did ask for him to show her some tips, and she was going to prove she was listening. Beth cleared her mind and gazed at the ground examining the foliage for any signs of displacement.
"Well, something came through here. The pattern is all zig-zaggy."
Daryl silently shadowed Beth as she began following a trail of displaced leaves that weaved across the ground.
"It's a walker!" Beth's face lit up.
"Or a drunk."
"I'm getting good at this." Beth beamed, head held high as she lifted the cross bow back up to position. "Pretty soon I won't need you at all."
"Yeah." Daryl grunted with a little mockingly dismissive wave. "Keep on trackin."
Beth crouched low holding up the crossbow and followed the path left by the walker. The trail lead to a small open patch of ground surrounded by old pines and great big oaks. Beth could hear the walker's groans before she made it to the edge of the clearing.
"It's got a gun." Beth noticed.
Daryl gave Beth a quick nod of approval. She assessed the situation and realized that the creature's back was towards them and he was focused on whatever poor creature he was devouring for an afternoon snack, it looked like some sort of bird. The best plan of attack would be to come up behind him and shoot a bolt through the back of his head before he knew anyone was there. Daryl was running low on bolts so they had to make every one count.
She wasn't the best shot with the crossbow yet, she was still getting used to the weight. It was heavy but it was quiet and didn't have the same kick-back a gun did, she could see why Daryl was so attached. Slowly she crept into the clearing, getting closer to ensure her accuracy minding her footfalls and praying that she was quiet enough to avoid detection. One more step and Beth would be at the perfect distance to take the creature out but as her foot hit the ground a sharp pain surged through her heal sending her to her knees with a loud thud.
The walker dropped his feast and turned around. Beth's stomach churned when she saw the decaying flesh and dead eyes that now thought of her as dinner. Ignoring the pain in her foot Beth held up the cross bow and let a bolt fly, the walker was too fast and it only managed to clip him in the cheek and was hanging out of his rotting mouth. The walker was unfazed and kept approaching but with Beth's foot caught she couldn't reload the bow and have another try. Instead Beth tossed Daryl his bow as he came stampeding by. Daryl finished off the walker with one sharp blow with the butt of the bow.
With the walker dispatched the duo clawed at the small animal trap that bit through the heel of Beth's left boot. The more Beth wiggled the tighter the jaws of the trap clamped down on her heel. Luckily, Daryl had seen a small trap like this one before and managed to disarm and remove it before it caused any more damage.
"Can you move it?" Daryl crouched down and delicately examined Beth's foot.
Beth took a few deep and calming breaths before attempting to wiggle her foot. It hurt something fierce but at least it moved.
"Yeah." She said with a faint smile.
Daryl set back on his heels and wiped his hands over his face, this girl was going to be the death of him. He sauntered over to the dispatched walker, pulled the gun belt from its waist, and raided the creatures tattered pockets. He tossed the belt to Beth and plucked some viable feathers from what was left of the walker's meal. He also found a thin pouch holding three thin but razor sharp throwing blades. He didn't see much use for knife tricks but he figured they might need them later.
"Here, I think you earned this." He bent down and slipped a thin piece of fabric into Beth's left boot. "Keep em in your boot, they're thin and no one will notice em. They probably won't take down a walker or hunting... you have your hunting knife for that... but they might come be useful during a pinch."
"Thank you." Beth smiled.
"We need to find a place to camp for tonight. Do you think you can walk?"
"I can try."
Daryl stood up and brushed himself off and reloaded the crossbow before slinging it over his shoulder. Quietly he reached out his hand and hauled Beth to her feet. While Beth strapped the gun belt on her waist, Daryl picked up a bunch of twigs and shoved them into the bag on Beth's back. Beth hobbled along for a few steps before her grumpy companion put her arm around his neck and snaked his arm around her waist so she could lean on him for support. They walked like this in silence through the clearing, through a short span of woods, and out through the tree line.
"Can we hold up a sec?" Beth asked, letting go of Daryl and crouching to catch her breath and relieve the pressure on her heel.
"You alright?" Daryl tried to hide the concern in his voice.
"I just need to sit down." Beth answered reluctantly.
They stopped momentarily so Beth could catch her breath and Daryl could take in their surroundings. Beth noticed that Daryl was constantly checking out his surroundings either for signs of danger or a reference point.
Off in the distance stood a great old Georgian plantation house, it had to be older than Hershel's farm. It was big and beautiful and white. Between them and the house lay a huge span of grave yard, with a wide array of head stones, statues, and mausoleums.
"Alright, hold up." Daryl said. "Hop on."
Beth couldn't help but stare as her companion slung his cross bow across the front of his chest and crouched down waiting for her to hop on his back.
"You serious?"
"Yes, it's a serious piggy back." Daryl bantered. "Jump up."
With no other options, Beth took a deep breath and did as she was told. Her only concern was breaking Daryl's back before they made it to safety.
"You're heavier than you look." Daryl joked, straightening up and walking towards the house through the grave yard.
"Maybe there are people there." Beth suggested.
"Yeah, if there are I'll handle 'em."
"There's still good people Daryl."
"I don't think the good ones survive."
They walked silently towards the house; the only noise was Daryl's strained breathing. Beth examined all the worn head stones as they passed through. Men, women, and children all from various points in history, lay to rest and be at peace. Beth wondered if they were happy they didn't have to see the world like this.
Beth's breath hitched at she read the engravings on one of the headstones. Daryl slowed down and she hopped off his back to get a closer look. She gazed at the words in stone, reminding her of the things she left behind and the people she would never see again. Her eyes misted over as she read the words "beloved father".
Daryl followed her gaze to the tombstone that lay in front of them; it didn't take much to understand what Beth was thinking about. Daryl pulled a few dandelions from a nearby patch of weeds, they were the closest thing they'd be able to find to flowers, and laid them on the top of the grave. Hershel may have been Beth's blood but he was the closest thing to a father figure that Daryl ever had. Words couldn't describe how much he would miss that tough old bastard.
They stood there in silent reverence, thinking about Hershel. Daryl felt Beth slowly grab hold of his hand. If it had been anyone else he would've pulled away but after everything they'd been through their interlocking fingers gave him a sense of peace and comfort.
"Come on, let's head to the house." Daryl grudgingly broke the silence.
He crouched down again until the little blonde was situated on his back and resumed their trek to the big house. Once they reached the porch he set her down and went to the door. He listened silently; the door gave a wine of protest when he pushed it open. He thumped on the door frame a few times to make their presence known to any walkers or residents in the house followed by a sharp whistle. A few minutes passed with no noise and no signs of movement.
"Give it a minute." Daryl whispered. Beth wasn't sure if he was thinking out loud or if that was directed to her.
Daryl gave the entry way a quick sweep and motioned for Beth to come in and close the door behind her. Daryl gave the first floor a sweep while Beth took in their new safe haven. They were in a beautiful home the walls had pretty floral wall paper, trimmed with white wooden accents. A large staircase stood directly in front of them and to the left and right were viewing rooms.
"It's clean." Beth observed.
"Yeah, someone's been tending to it." Daryl sounded concerned and interested. "They may still be around."
Beth followed Daryl into the room to their left. It had another pale floral wall paper and was decorated with dark wood antique furniture. On the far wall from the door lay an open casket with a body inside. Daryl bent down for a closer look, when he dragged his fingers along the corpse's cheek Daryl bit back a gag as flesh and mortician's makeup flaked off, leaving gooey residue on Daryl's fingers.
They continued their sweep into the basement. All they found was a small room where they suspected the mortician did most of his (or her) work. Daryl riffled through the cabinets while Beth examined the faces of the two dead men lying before her. They looked nothing like the decaying walkers she'd seen in the past moths, but she guessed that the makeup was opaque enough to cover up the rotting look.
Daryl cleared his throat when he pulled some bandages out of the cupboard. He stood with his back to the wall ripping into the packages with his teeth.
"Let's get that ankle wrapped." Daryl saw one of the half painted corpses that Beth was examining. "Looks like somebody ran out of dolls."
"It's beautiful." Beth countered. "Whoever did this cared. They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered these things were people before all this. They didn't let it change them in the end. .. Don't you think that's beautiful?"
Daryl didn't answer; he just stared at Beth with an odd look. He had forgotten that these were once people; all he could see were the monsters they became. It was just easier to see things that way.
"Come on." He said quietly, helping Beth sit on the counter so he could examine her foot.
He slid off her boot and shucked her sock, carefully lifting her foot to examine it. There were a few breaks in the skin but those would close in a day or so, the rest was bruising. She could move it and he couldn't feel any broken bones or unusual swelling, which was a plus. He was no doctor but you learn the basics of self-diagnosing when you live with ass holes.
"Your boot saved your foot, if you weren't wearing those damn things you'd have a bloody and broken heel."
"Thank God I didn't wear my pumps." Beth joked.
"I think it should be good in a couple of days." Daryl stated as he wrapped some gauze around Beth's heel and ankle to protect the small nicks and reinforce the stability of her ankle. "Let's go see if they have a kitchen."
Daryl disappeared up the steps, Beth hobbling up behind him. Once Daryl swept the top floor they found a few bed rooms and a small kitchen. The kitchen was crisp, white, and clean just like the rest of the house. The refrigerator was useless so they didn't even bother looking through it, they just opened up all the cupboards and cabinets they found.
"Dang it." Beth breathed as her first few cabinets were empty. "You find anything?"
She turned to see Daryl standing with a double cabinet opened revealing a large pay load of goods.
"Woah!" Beth could hear her stomach growl.
"Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda, and pigs feet." Daryl rattled off the contents of the cabinet. "That's a white trash brunch right there."
"It all looks good to me."
Daryl's mouth quirked at the thought of Beth Green at a white trash brunch. She and her family were the farthest thing from white trash he'd ever seen. He snickered to himself, pulling out the jar of pigs feet.
"Hold up." Daryl examined the jar in his hand. "There aint a speck of dust on this."
"So?"
"It means somebody just put it here. This is somebody's stash… maybe they're still alive." Daryl processed this for a few seconds. "Alright, we'll take some of it and we'll leave the rest. Alright?"
"I knew it." Beth smiled.
"Knew what?" Daryl asked sheepishly as he opened a jar of jelly.
"It's like I said… there's still good people." Beth looked at him as though he were her case and point.
Daryl didn't say anything he just plunged his hand into the jelly jar and scooped a handful of its sweet contents into his mouth. Devouring it like an animal.
"Gross." Beth squealed hobbling over to a nearby table with a jar of peanut butter.
"Hey, those pigs feet are mine." Daryl shouted with a mouth full of jelly.
Beth stuck her finger into the jar of peanut butter, she felt a little guilty but there were no utensils anymore. She breathed in the nutty aroma of the peanut butter, how she missed the simple joys of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Beth delicately licked the peanut butter off her finger and let out a small sigh of pleasure and contentment. Daryl watched her with one eyebrow raised. Beth blushed slightly but continued to enjoy her jar of peanut butter.
When they'd eaten their fill Daryl pulled out the bird feathers and branches he'd stuffed into Beth's bag. He lay them out on the table, Beth looked at him questioningly.
"Now we're gonna make more bolts." Daryl pulled a small bottle of glue out of his pocket.
"Where'd you find that?"
"Found it when I got the bandages for your foot." Daryl boasted. "Now don't change the subject. I saw your cell in the prison, you love this arts and crafts shit."
Without words Daryl showed Beth how to whittle a bolt with her hunting knife, it didn't have to be perfect it just had to fit in the crossbow and have a fine point. Beth enjoyed her lesson on making and attaching the fletching. By sun set they had two dozen new bolts laying on the counter to dry.
As the sun set Daryl headed out to the porch to set some alarms, he tied some old cans together on a long piece of twine and hung them across the porch. Any walker that even attempted to get to the front door would cause enough of a commotion to warn the duo inside.
Beth hobbled around the small rooms on the first floor; she was able to find a box of matches and a hoard of candles that would last anyone a good year. She grabbed the matches and an armful of tea lights and went off in search for a place to bunk down for the night. Daryl suggested they stayed on the second floor in one of the empty viewing rooms. At the top of the stairs there was a small viewing room with an empty casket and a piano. It made her miss the old wooden piano she grew up playing, she would practice for hours on end until her mama would beg her to take a break and finish her school work.
She lit a few dozen votive candles and placed them around the room to create a soft glow. She shoved the box of matches in her pocked for later. It wasn't a campfire but with the curtains closed no one would know they were there. She glanced longingly at the piano, remembering the days before the world went to hell and she still had her family. Finally she gave into the urge and sat down quietly playing and singing until Daryl came back inside.
Daryl followed the sounds of music that floated down the steps. He could hear Beth's airy voice and quiet chords. Any other time it would've annoyed him but peeking into the dimly lit viewing room Beth seemed so at peace. He just stood in the doorway letting the melody wash over him long enough to calm his mind. He had no idea what the song was, which was usual when it came to Beth. Even when she serenaded Little Ass Kicker she sang whatever song popped into her head. Daryl gave her a few minutes before he cleared his throat to make his presence known. She had been so lost in her own little world that the noise caught her off guard; she whirled around almost falling off the piano bench.
"The place is nailed up tight." Daryl took a few awkward steps into the room and rested his cross bow on an antique couch next to the door. "The only way in is through the front door."
He ran his hands over the frame of the empty coffin that lay in the front of the room. Thinking for a few seconds he kicked off his boots and hopped in. Beth looked puzzled when her companion stretched out in the wooden box like he'd done it every night.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"This is the comfiest bed I've had in years." Daryl sighed.
"Really?"
"I aint kidding." He shifted around until he got comfortable.
The last time he was in a comfortable bed was at Hershel's farm the night that he fell off his horse looking for Sophia, fell down a gorge, impaled himself with an arrow, walked a few miles back to the farm and was grazed by one of Andrea's bullets. Once he was patched up Hershel, Patricia, and Beth took turns looking in on him. His heart sank just thinking about all the people from that memory that they'd lost – everyone but Beth.
"Why don't you go ahead and play some more? Keep singing." Daryl suggested.
"I thought my singing annoyed you."
Daryl just quirked a smile and grunted. "There aint no juke box though."
Beth smiled and spun back around on the piano bench. Before long her airy singing filled the room. Daryl just watched her from his coffin bed, watching Beth light up as the music continued. How could she conjure up so much joy in such a dark place and time? This whole time Daryl thought that Beth was just a naïve little girl who sang songs in the middle of a crisis for attention. He finally was starting to realize that it was those moments when the group needed to take their minds off the darkness and remember the simple joys, even if that meant singing a silly song in the middle of a walker riddled prison.
"Now I'm laughing at my boredom, at my string of failed attempts…" her voice trailed off as Daryl fell into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in well, ever.
Daryl woke up the next morning to the afternoon sun peeking through the middle of the curtains. He bolted upright searching the room for Beth, almost knocking his coffin bed off its stand. He cursed himself for sleeping so long and not getting up to keep watch. Scanning the room in a panic, his heart rate slowed when he saw Beth asleep on the sofa curled around his crossbow. Her matted golden hair flared out on the cushion like a halo while she slept peacefully. Beth's eyelids flew open and she sat up with a look of horror when she heard Daryl jump out of the coffin and pull his boots back on.
"Oh my God… I'm so sorry, you fell asleep and I was trying to be nice and take first watch but I was stupid and fell asleep too." Beth panicked.
"'sokay" Daryl said in his gravelly voice.
"No it's not." Beth scolded herself.
"Fine, tonight I'll take first shift. We can switch off every couple hours." He figured that working out a schedule would be better than letting her beat herself up. They were both exhausted and she had a foot that needed heeling.
"Let's go down and see what else we can find in the pantry. I'm thinking it's time for some pigs feet… maybe covered in peanut butter."
"That's disgusting." Beth laughed.
Daryl couldn't help but smile as he helped Beth to her feet, her laughter was infectious. He followed close behind as the little blonde hobbled towards the steps.
"Come on woman, I'm hungry."
"I'm going as fast as I can." She giggled.
Daryl scooped up Beth and carried her down the stairs and into the kitchen. His breathing was labored as he kicked open the kitchen door. She was surprisingly heavy for a petite girl, or maybe Daryl was getting a little out of shape. He'd prefer to think it was the former rather than the latter.
"There you go." Daryl sat Beth down at the kitchen table with a sigh of relief. "Alright, let's eat."
Daryl sat down across from his companion and cracked open a fresh jar of pigs feet. He didn't even get the first one out when they heard rattling cans on the porch. Beth's smile faded and her face paled, she knew her foot was still too injured to be of much use. Daryl picked up his cross bow and headed for the door.
"Stay." He said firmly, usually he commanded but this was more like an urgent request.
Beth nodded but hobbled over to the kitchen door while Daryl loaded his crossbow and slipped down the hall. He peaked out the slats on the front door but couldn't see a thing. Deciding to take a chance he cracked the door open and peaked outside. Standing on the front porch was a shaggy looking one eyed dog.
"It's just a damn dog." Daryl called to Beth.
The dog looked a little weary when Daryl crouched down and slowly extended a hand for him to sniff.
"Hey." Daryl cooed. "Come 'ere boy."
Daryl inched closer to the dog but apparently his movements were too abrupt. The dog let out a bark and scampered off the porch and out of sight, rattling a few tin cans on his way out. Daryl stared after him puzzled, dogs usually liked him.
Daryl closed the door and turned around almost falling over when Beth materialized in the doorway.
"He wouldn't come in?"
"I thought I told you to stay in the kitchen."
"Yeah, but Daryl you said there was a dog." She smiled sheepishly.
"Maybe he'll come back around." Daryl wished aloud. "Come on."
He grabbed Beth's arm to support her as they walked back into the kitchen.
"I didn't do it for attention." Beth said quietly.
"Huh?"
"Back at the farm, I didn't do it for the attention." Beth explained. "I did it because I lost hope. I was in this deep dark place and there was no way out. But when Andrea… well when I broke the mirror and held the glass to my skin I realized that I was being selfish and stupid. That's not who I am and that's not who I wanted to be."
They sat in silence as Daryl processed Beth's words. He had confided in her just a few days ago, now she was doing the same. She was right, she wasn't Michonne, Carol, Maggie or hell even Andrea but there was no doubt in Daryl's mind that there was a reason Beth was still alive. She wasn't physically the strongest but she had this sort of inner strength, an emotional strength that was unique to her. Something that Daryl was secretly jealous of.
They'd slept longer than they originally thought because they were still sitting at the table when the sun set.
"I'm going to leave a thank you note." Beth stated.
She pulled a pen and her journal out of her back pocket. Daryl studied his companion quietly while she scribbled a note then turned his attention back to his half devoured jar of jelly.
"Why?"
"For when they come back. If they come back..." She said slowly. "Even if they're not coming back I still want to say thanks."
"Maybe you don't have to leave that." Daryl suggested as he stared into the jelly jar, he could feel Beth's eyes on him. "Maybe we can stick around here for a while. If they come back we'll just make it work. It may be nuts, but maybe it'll be alright."
He looked up to meet Beth's gaze.
"So you do think that there are still good people around." She beamed.
Daryl shrugged in non-committal sort of agreement.
"What changed your mind?"
Daryl looked away shyly. "You know."
"What?" she pried.
Daryl gave the "I don't know" grunt.
"Don't 'I don't know" me." Beth said coyly trying to coax an answer out of Daryl. "What changed your mind?"
Daryl didn't answer he just met her gaze. He wasn't much for feeling or putting them into words so how was he supposed to tell this angelic young woman that even though the world is shattered she convinced him that there are good people. And that she was one of them. More importantly how could he tell this young woman that she was far stronger than even she knew?
"Oh." Beth breathed as it dawned on her what the answer was in the silence.
They sat staring quietly at each other trying to figure out what to say or do next. The silence was broken by rattling cans and a dog barking. Daryl jumped out of his chair, using this opportunity to avoid the current turn of topics before he admitted anything else.
"I'mma give that mut one more chance." He grumbled, pulling a pigs foot from the jar.
He sauntered out to the front door and swung the door open without a second thought. His face paled as a dozen walkers stood before him. Daryl threw the door closed and braced it with his back as the walkers threw themselves against it in hopes of finding entry.
"BETH!" Daryl screamed. "BETH!"
The little blonde scurried from the kitchen, loaded crossbow in hand. She processed the situation and threw Daryl his weapon.
"GO! RUN!" He shouted.
Beth scurried back into the kitchen. Daryl ran towards the kitchen doorway and spun around to fire at a few of the walkers that flooded through the door. He clipped the first walker dead center of the head, the bolt pierced straight through sending a spray of blood as the walker crumbling to the ground. There were too many, he didn't have the time to reload his bow.
"BETH GO OUT THE WINDOW. GET YOUR SHIT! LET'S GO!" Daryl screamed as he lead the walkers through the funeral home and away from Beth.
"I'M NOT GOING TO LEAVE YOU!" She screamed back.
"GET OUT AND GO UP THE ROAD, I'LL MEET YOU THERE!" He commanded as he formulated an escape plan.
Beth had no choice but to follow his orders, with her injured foot she'd be more of a liability on the inside. It physically hurt to leave him behind to fend off the walkers and make a grand escape.
It took a bit of effort to quietly pry the boards off of the first floor window. She used her hunting knife to pry out the nails and loosen the boards. Within minutes there was a small enough gap for her to wiggle her way through. She hiked her backpack high on her shoulders, checked to make sure her gun belt was secure and wiggled her way through the window.
She landed on all fours in a soft bed of dirt. She ignored the throbbing in her heal as she ran towards the trees that hid their meeting spot. She had her hunting knife in her hand, ready to pounce on any walker that crossed her. Unfortunately she didn't hear this hisses coming from behind her. A sharp yank pulled the bag off of Beth's back and sent her flying head first into a large tree. She cupped the right side of her head with her free hand as she staggered to regain her balance. The world swam and her head throbbed, she could feel bile rise in her throat but she couldn't give up.
It took a few blinks for her eyes to focus on the walker standing before her. Beth kicked her leg out catching the walker behind the knee with a crunch, sending it teetering to the ground. The creature flailed and hissed as it tried to get back on its feet. Beth crouched down mustering all her force and with one swift motion drove her hunting knife into the walker's skull. The walker went limp.
The world was spinning and Beth fell to her knees, she could feel the slick blood starting just above her right temple and rolling down the side of her face. Through the haze she could feel a pair of warm hands catch her by the shoulders. She assumed it was Daryl until a dark hand snaked around her waist pulling her to his side for support. She felt as though she were in a dream as the tall stranger shoved her into the passenger's seat of a dark sedan.
"No." she mumbled. "Daryl…"
"You're fine sweetie, you're safe." A deep voice soothed her. "He can't hurt you now."
"Daryl…"
Her vision tunneled as the mystery man turned the key and the engine roared to life. She tried to stay with it and protest; they needed to back for Daryl. He saved her, now it was her turn to save him. Her mumbles fell on deaf ears. Her vision dimmed as she looked in the rear view mirror, the last thing she saw was Daryl running after the screaming and the world faded to black.