Hello again! Here is the second chapter to my Bethyl story! Thank you to everyone who has showed support so far! I'm so happy people are liking it! So without further ado, I hope you enjoy!
"This… place looks-s good," I point in the direction of a local mart, its outside fairly put together, but clearly has been swept through by the masses. We've been walking now for six days from the crack of dawn until the suns last bit of light seeped away making room for the stars. Morgan expects us to arrive to Washington in four days. The weather didn't hold like we predicted, so we had to make some detours, but eventually we got on the right path.
Morgan and I take out our weapons, both knives, our guns holstered and used only in emergencies for ammo is low. The door is off its hinges, lying flat on the floor, the glass shattered. Morgan bangs on the wall to draw out any dead ones that may be lurking. None come so we enter and begin searching for anything useful.
We diverge, taking opposite ends of the store to cover more space in a smaller amount of time. We've been really unlucky in terms of supplies since every store, market or house we've come across has been picked clean of all things that could maintain us on our journey.
I have to ignore the hunger pains that rip though my stomach as I past by advertisements of cakes that were once displayed in the stores bakery. I keep an eye out for anything that can suffice as a meal. Every shelf is a disaster of scattered object, empty wrapper of people so desperate they ripped the packaging open on the spot and dust to show how long it's been since anyone's disturb this place. I try not to take this as a bad sign.
Shuffling sounds from the aisle beside mine. I jump, knowing that Morgan is always careful and alert enough to keep from causing any noise. So I cautiously peer through the shelves, expecting to be met with a grab from a dead one as it tries to tear at my flesh, but instead I see a man.
The man doesn't see me. I take careful steps back, making the effort to keep from alerting the stranger of my presence, so I don't notice the display before my back slam into it, sending sunglasses flying, clattering loudly. "Shit," I mumble as the man makes himself noticed by walking into my aisle, but he doesn't attack like I anticipate. "Morgan!" I call, urgency, unmistakable in my tone. On edge, I grip my weapon drawn in defense, "What-t…d-do..." fear constricts me, paralyzing me in place, making it impossible for me to be calm enough to form a coherent sentence.
"Please, I don't mean to frighten you…" The man steps closer. I don't dare take my eyes off of him. "Beth!" Morgan comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, drawing me behind him. I mentally kick myself at my cowardice. I've been doing so well as of late with speaking and now I blow it when I need it the most.
"If you're looking for supplies, we don't have any to give. That's why we're in here." Morgan says. The man, now taking him in without panic coursing through me, I see he doesn't look like much of a threat. He's a normal height and doesn't sport any visible weapons and his hands are raised to seemingly indicate he means no harm. "Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you." He looks in my direction. I merely stare showing indifference, my confidence once again intact. "My name is Aaron. I have good news."
-§-
I'm scrounging the woods again, only this time I'm on the lookout for anyone seemingly worthy of joining our band of survivors in Alexandria.
A few days ago, I ran into Aaron once again as I lurked in the surrounding woods near the safe zone. He talked, while I mostly listened. He eventually told me of a party being hosted in honor of my groups arrival.
"Let them get to know you," he suggests.
I immediately scoffed, showing my disinterest, "I got nothin' to prove." He drops the topic and we continue on like nothing happened.
A while later, I passed by Deanna's house where the party is, but I don't attempt to join the festivities. No way in hell am I prepared to be swarmed by a bunch of strangers. Strangers who will ask questions about things that ain't none of their damn business. So I walk on by. I'm strolling down the street when suddenly a porch light flickers on, "Daryl! Hey." I turn to see Aaron walking out of his house. I halt my steps in confusion.
"I thought you were goin' to that party over there," pointing at the house, lively with talk and music.
"Oh, I was never going to go cause of Eric's ankle, thank god." I stare, not really understanding his prodding from early today as he tried to convince my to make an appearance. "Why the hell did you tell me to go then?"
"I said try. You did. It's…uh… the thought counts thing," he says smirking.
"Alright," I answer dismissively, turning to leave.
"Hey. Come in, have some dinner," his head nods in the direction of his house. I don't respond immediately, showing my reluctance. Although both Aaron and Eric are nice people, I still ain't use to makin' the effort that friendly conversations require. The last person who I let in was Beth and we've seen how well that went. "Come on, man. Some pretty serious spaghetti."
He heads back into his house, leaving the door wide as an invitation to follow. But I get hung up on the words, "Some pretty serious spaghetti." Flashbacks evade my mind, all moments of time spent with Beth. "It's a serious piggyback," I say to her after she's too injured to walk on her own. I swallow, shaking slightly from the sudden bombardment of her memory. So I quickly rush in after Aaron, hoping that being around others will help once again suppress the memories back into the deepest depths of my mind where they belong.
In no time, I found myself right at home as I'm greeted by the dinner spread made by Eric. I slurp the spaghetti down with no sense of retraint, the cravings for something other than possum or squirrel, making my senses relish in the taste too consumed to think about table manners.
I just finished eating, wiping my mouth with my napkin when Eric says, "Oh! When you're out there, if you happened to be in a store or something, Mrs. Nutermeyer is really looking for a pasta maker and we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it…" Eric continue speaking and I take my eyes off of him looking over the glass of wine I'm drinking, suspiciously at Aaron, eyebrow raised in question. Aaron is shooting a helpless glare at Eric a signal to get him to stop talking but Eric is too invested to notice. "If you see one out on your travels, it would really go a long way…" Eric finally looks at Aaron, suddenly realizing the tension. Eric looks back and fourth between my wry expression and Aaron's, fully grasping the situation. "I thought it was done. You didn't ask him already?" Eric asks, directly looking at Aaron. Aaron shakes his head staying silent.
"Ask me what?"
Aaron brings me into his garage, where I'm greeted with the sight of a bike in the process of being repaired. I unconsciously move forward inspecting the parts in desire to be the one to bring the bike back to its former glory. "When I got the place, there was that frame and some parts of equipment. Whoever lived here, built them," he says, motioning towards the bike. "It's a lot of parts for one bike," I observe. Aaron looks sheepish as he answers,
"Whenever I came across any parts out there I brought them back. I didn't know what I'd need. I always thought I learn how to do it, but I get the feeling, you already know what to do with it. And the thing is… you're going to need a bike."
I spot wandering around then, turning to directly stare at him wanting to get to straight to the point, "Why?"
"I told Deanna not to give you a job because I think I have one for you. I like you to be Alexandria's other recruiter. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore."
"You want me risking mine, right?" I turn my back to him, pretending to be interested in the tools down by my feet.
"Yeah, because you know what you're doing. You're good out there. But you don't belong out there. I know it's hard getting use to people getting use to you and I understand you need to be out there sometimes so do I. But the main reason why I want you to recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person." His words ring through me, setting off an echoing of similar words I heard, "There are a still good people, Daryl." The image of Beth floods my vision and I have to blink her away to focus back on what's real.
Aaron waits for my response, and it doesn't take much for me to realize that I'm going to do it. This is what she would have wanted. I was going to tell her that day in the funeral home that, yes, there are good people and she was a shining example of that.
"Well, I got nothin' else to do. Thanks." I shrug it off, but in reality, for some reason, I feel like as much as I want to keep the lingering thoughts of Beth away, this opportunity is one step closer to being the man she saw in me.
So, I've decided to dedicate myself to this. It sometime good, maybe it'll help me see passed all the bad that has made me blind with grief. Enough to distract me so I can get through a day without feeling like there's no meaning to anything anymore.
I need something like this to keep my mind busy and on a mission and just maybe on the way, I'll restore the hope that was expanding while with Beth. Because as much as I miss her, she was the first person to every prove to me that life isn't about the bad as long as you look at in from every perspective. So I'll do this. I'll do this for her.
-§-
We didn't believe him.
Not at first, at least. We stared him with clear distrust after his little speech, letting us know about his community, formally known as Alexandria. He told us it's safe, with food and shelter, full of people who were brought in, just like we would be.
But as good as it all sounds we didn't believe, couldn't believe such a fate was being handed to us after keeping clear of others like the plague. There doesn't seem to be many good people out there anymore. They've all either been turned to the dark side or the world overtook their kindness.
Then he showed us the pictures.
He passed Morgan and I each half of the stack. I shuffle through mine, my doubts flipping away with each image.
Impossible, yet it's all here. I shake my head, not knowing how to take this all in at once. The walls stand protectively around the community, there's a picture of the supplies they have stocked along with weapons, houses that are for the residence. Unbelievable.
When I get to the last picture, it's of people. As I stare at it, warmth blooms from my heart encasing around me like a blanke.
These people… they all looks so happy. Each and every one of them looks comforted by those who surround them.
They look… like a family.
"Beth…?" I look away from the picture towards Morgan who called me, to feel a tear drip onto my cheek. I blink in surprise, more tears shedding. I briskly wipe them away, not knowing why I'm reacting so strongly to a picture of strangers.
Aaron steps forward, peeking at the photo I hold, "That's actually a picture of the most recent group we've let in." Morgan gently takes the photo from me to inspect. "They may have been the best group of people, all very ambitious and loyal."
"Oh, my." Morgan holds the photo closer to his face. As he spots something a fuse is lit, sending sparks of laughs that shatters the silence. I anxiously tap him on the shoulder, "What is it?" My curiosity makes my speech easier in anticipation for the reasoning behind his sudden change in mood. I've never seen Morgan act like this and I don't know whether to take it as a good sign or if it's him officially cracking.
He holds the photo out so I can view it and he points at a man, "That's Rick," he let's out a short laugh throwing his head back in disbelief. I take in the man, sporting a thick beard, cradling a child while the other is slung around the shoulder of a boy that must be his son. Morgan laughs again, "What'd I tell you, Beth?" He throws an arm around me, tugging me into a hug, "We're not going to be alone any longer!"
-§-
We stay in that store for the night, Morgan filling Aaron in on how he knows Rick. It's the first time I'm hearing this too, and I try listen, but I continuously keep getting distracted by the photo with Rick. Aaron told us Rick is the leader of the fourteen people in the photo and they've all transitioned into the community well.
We've built a fire inside a garbage can, concealing the flames from anyone who may pass through. The flames light flickers across the picture, and I take in each face, feeling tugging at my heart stings. How beautiful to know that all these people have gone from strangers to a family.
Maybe there are still good people out there, people who haven't let the world harden them, encasing them in a shell of resistance, forever fighting against others in order to keep themselves protected.
The light shifts, directing my eyes upon a man standing in the far left corner of the picture, crossbow hanging off his shoulder, scruff lining his chin, brown hair hanging in his eyes. His image is dark and he looks like shouldn't belong. He's not looking at the camera like everyone else. Instead his eyes are on the people next to him, showing the love and protectiveness he has for them.
It's absolutely beautiful.
"I've been watching you two for barely a week, but it was enough." My head shoots up, pulled back into reality. I think back to the many lessons of speech practice that I've had with Morgan during the past week. I'm glad for the flames, since the blush that creeps onto my face will go unnoticed. To think Aaron saw me struggling to speak, makes me cringe in mortification and I await for him to bring it up, but he only says, "The way you to care for each other, lend a helping hand in the tasks that you do and having each others back is remarkable." He gives us a small smile, "We would be happy to have you join us in Alexandria."
Morgan grabs my hand giving it a squeeze and I pat his, showing my approval for the opportunity we have luckily been given. I look at Aaron, "Thank you." I hold his stare, hoping with every fiber that he understands how much he's helping us. He give me a genuine smile, but his eyes slide to my forehead, where he gets a clear shot in the light of the flames of the bullet scar. I unconsciously raise my hand to it and his eyes fall, sheepishly. "…Sorry, I…" I shake my head, showing him I'm not offended. Since I've been practicing my speech with Morgan, he also been preparing me for when the time came on how to deal with people's questions about how I sustain such an injury and lives to tell the tale. "It's…okay." I move my hand away, letting him view it, "I don't k-know how…it happened."
"Memory loss from the trauma," Morgan adds knowing I can't talk as much as this story amounts to.
"It's a miracle." Aaron looks upon me, an expression I don't know how to decipher, but for some reason it makes me proud. He doesn't seems to be looking at me in pity for what I've suffered, but instead is taking in the strength it took to for me to be sitting in front of him.
In that moment, I trust him. If he can look past the image that I so clearly have as being the damsel in distress, than I know that joining him at his community is the best move for us.
A sudden crash, sounding from the entrance of the mart draws all of us into a fighting stance, gripping our weapons. I grab the bag of dirt we got from outside, throwing it over the flames, darkness engulfing our position. We all awaiting an attack so when a dead one comes into view, it doesn't take much for it to be brought down.
But then the herd comes.
One by one, bodies limps into the mart. I quickly grab my pack, hoisting it over my shoulder before driving my knife into the skull as a dead one comes lunging. I hurl it off me, pushing it into others that were coming closer, giving us more time to collect our things before we're rushing off down the aisle to the back.
The store is overrun in seconds, the silence ripped violently open by the constant chorus of moans and growls, making it hard to figure out which way they are coming from and where is safe. "Over here!" Morgan motions us over to the break room for employees. We scatter in but suddenly Aaron's jacket is tugged, pulling him back into the cluster. He fights to break away but the walker… walker?
I shake the confusion of the sudden nickname away, driving my knife with enough force to slice the hand of the walker through the bone, setting Aaron free. We slam the door shut, locking it tightly as possible and blocking it with furniture to delay their entrance. They scratch and bang on the door, it rattling from the overwhelming weight, as walkers must be piling on it.
Morgan has already busted the window open. He brushes glass off the window sill, signaling me forward, "You first, Beth." I do as he says, shimmying through the window to safety. Aaron comes after then Morgan and we sprint for our lives, the moans growing fader with each stride.
-§-
I ran into a man sporting a red poncho, only to lose him after being swarmed by a sudden group of walkers. It's doesn't take much to take them down, but it's enough for the man to be long gone. It try to track him, but I can't even seem to found anything to actually let me know that he was really there.
If Aaron was here we could have gotten to the man, tracked him to see if he was fit enough to be recruited. But he told me he trusted me enough to make good decisions. So he went one way and I the other, planning to regroup if anything calls for it. For now, we're covering more ground, waiting to stake claim to anyone who seems to be a good candidate.
I listened without complaint, cause' as much as I have come use to bein' around him, I relish in the silence that comes with being alone. When surrounded by others, I constantly have my guard up, obscuring anyone from figuring out the thoughts that weigh me down.
I can't look weak. And that's how I feel constantly. I have to be the guy everyone knows. After losing Beth, I have lost my ability to make myself void of emotions. I tried to keep the wall I built secure, but each step away from her grave, from the girl who made me understand life in a new perspective, dissembled brick by brick.
I don't think I can ever make people forget that. They saw me at my worst and I'm still not even close to being back to the Daryl at the prison. Everything that I came to know through Beth haunts me. I want nothing more than to forget, but at the same time, I want to prove to her that I believed in her.
Her beauty came with the knowledge for life. No matter the situation, she kept positive, always radiating her worth, while I could only watch in amazement. It's my time to make an example of all that she believed in. I will not let that die with her. I will continue her legacy. She deserves that much and it's all I can do to repay her for brining forward the best in me.
I walk forward, feeling better about the things I failed to do. But then I see something ahead of me, putting me on edge. I lift my bow, preparing for an attack, but as I near, I lower it.
Strung up to a trunk of a tree is a walker. She has a small build. She has blonde hair. Her head is bowed so her face isn't visible. I hesitate to reach out. But I walk closer, touching the hair, gently lifting the head to view the face. I let out a sigh, turning away for a moment, collecting myself.
Of course, it's not her. I couldn't be her.
I look back at the girl, to see a W etched onto her forehead. This isn't the first walker, I've seen sporting a W and I don't know what to make of it. I drop the girl's head, hesitating before I leave. Should I leave her like this? There's nothing else I can do for her, I think. I turn away, feeling the weight of Beth's memory heavier today than usual.
I move on, hoping to quickly get away from all the dread that suddenly came with the appearance of the corpse. I don't want to remember Beth like that. So as I go, I recall the glow in her eyes and her smile and her fierceness when it came towards something she was passionate about.
I said before that I died alongside Beth that day, but her attitude would never go into such a dark place. Instead, I'll say that as long as I live, Beth will continue on. She will always be around as long as I am.
