"C'mon, farmer's boy. We're going on a run." Daryl strode past Rick with his crossbow dangling by his side.
Rick stabbed the shovel into the ground and wiped the sweat from his brow. He kept that arm across his forehead in an attempt to block out the sun's harsh rays, the other hand upon his hip. Daryl was headed down to the fence line with Michonne in tow. The two of them were always on the move. Always working, always going on runs.
Rick looked back beside him. Hershel was on his knee, tending to the crops they had managed to plant thus far. Carl was there helping him. The only difference was that Carl was staring back at Rick, Hershel seeming adamant about not glancing back. Not even for a moment.
He knew why. Understood his reasoning. Hershel had already explained it previously.
"You comin' or not? Ain't got all day," Daryl called out. He was leaning against the open driver's side door of the Charger, arm draped over it.
Rick took in his surroundings then, as though it would be the last time he'd see it.
Karen, Chloe, Tyreese, and a handful of others were spread out along the perimeter of the yard, taking care of the piling walkers prying their way forward.
His daughter swaying ever-so-gently in the arms of the youngest Greene. Beth was singing, her voice soft, hair glowing in the radiant sun. He could almost hear Judith's sweet little coo's and see Beth's smile as Zach approached them.
Luke appeared to be crying. His knee was scuffed, most likely from playing around. Patrick, Lizzie, and Mika were close by. Bob was kneeled down beside Luke, examining the scrapes.
And if he could place a guess, Maggie and Glenn were up in the watch tower.
"Rick."
Daryl's voice snapped Rick out of it. His posture seemed more impatient, leaning heavier on the door with both arms now.
"Coming," Rick called back. He looked back at his son and Hershel. Neither looked to him now, Hershel explaining to Carl how nice it'd be once they got a few rainfalls. Lately, everything had just been too dry.
And as Rick carried his feet forward, he didn't realize what sort of mistake he had just made.
Michonne watched on as Carl fiddled with another twig, twirling it in his fingers before breaking it till he couldn't any more. It was the sixth twig he had picked up.
"He'll be back soon."
"Why isn't he back now? He left before the sun set." Carl muttered, "We should have gone with him."
Michonne let out a quiet sigh. Everything seemed to be going fairly well thus far. They were on their way to Terminus. They were trying to reunite with the others, whoever was still left standing. Maybe Rick had stumbled across a path that showed evidence of their group.
Just as she was about to speak up again, a single gunshot rang out. She kicked up off the tree she was leaning against as her hand shot straight for the katana at her back, fingers gripping the handle. There were four more gunshots that followed shortly after.
Carl was on his feet and running in the direction it came from instantaneously, Michonne chasing after him. Any panic or dread they were feeling had just intensified.
The night was silent other than the heavy footfalls crunching along nature's debris. They ducked and weaved their way through brush and low branches that hung in their way. And they didn't even begin to slow down until they could make out the faint glowing of a small campfire, a dark silhouette standing near.
Michonne protectively pushed her way in front of Carl. Her katana was lined up in front of her as she took a few cautious steps forward. The figure remained stationary. Her eyes briefly wandered over the scene and took note of at least five dead men, their bodies littering the ground. Only once her vision focused did she realize the shadow of the man before them was none other than Rick.
"…Dad?" Carl tried to swerve around Michonne, but she gently placed a hand on the young boy's shoulder and coaxed him back.
Rick's face was covered in blood. The thick, crimson liquid surrounded his mouth. It was in his beard. There were speckles and splatters across his face and shirt, his arms. He was staring down at the ground, revolver in hand.
He suddenly sighed heavily as though he were holding his breath, the gun clattering to the ground. The abrupt noise had slightly startled Michonne as she blinked in disbelief.
"Dad—"
"I'm fine," the words sounded pained. Rick nodded, stumbled forward. Stopped. "I'm—I'm fine..."
Michonne, although a bit wary, slid the katana back into its sheath. She didn't need to necessarily ask what had happened. He had killed those men, that much was evident. But why and how were more appropriate questions.
"Rick." Michonne decided to close the gap between them. He looked up, met her stare as she approached.
"I had to." Rick shook his head. Repeated, "I had to… I couldn't risk it. Daryl—" he cut himself short. His eyes flitted over the bodies as he stumbled back.
Michonne tried to follow his line of vision. Didn't know how she didn't notice it before. One of the men was lying face down, Daryl's winged vest visible from his back. Carl had walked forward and picked up Daryl's crossbow from off the ground, having noticed it too.
She was almost afraid to ask. But she let the words slip anyway.
"Where is he?"
A few moments of silence passed before Rick eventually replied, his words mumbled: "I don't know."
Rick dazed out the window from the backseat, Michonne having called shotgun. She and Daryl softly bickered back and forth over things that must have happened on previous runs. Hearing them laugh was a rare occurrence though, and it brought a smile to Rick's face.
About an hour later, they came to a stop just on the outskirts of a small neighborhood. Daryl killed the engine and they exited the vehicle, each door closing one after another. There were a few straggling walkers down the street but none seemed all too aware of their company.
"Thought for sure you were going to run that one over back there," Rick joked.
"Believe me, he thought about it. I could see the hesitation in the grip on the steering wheel." Michonne smirked as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her katana. She started walking toward the closest house.
Daryl scoffed. "Yeah. Would've, but promised Zach I'd bring the car back in one piece." He carried the crossbow at his side in his right hand, following Michonne down the cracked sidewalk. "Now if we had the truck, that'd be different."
Rick carried on after them, shaking his head with a grin. Being outside of the prison fences felt nice. It had been a while since Rick felt obliged to go on a run. He'd always found a reason to stay back while the others went out. Figured it wouldn't hurt, just this one time. Daryl had always been the one to voice his opinion on the matter. Never let Rick off the hook for "chickening out".
Said he had to stop playing pretend.
"Probably stick together. Least for the first few. Haven't been out this way yet," Daryl explained.
They approached the first house, a pale yellow sided two story with white shutters. The wooden stairs that led up the front porch creaked under their weight. There was some drapery that had swooped out of the broken portion of the large picture window, flowing in the slight breeze.
Rick noticed Daryl had come to a halt just in front of him while Michonne headed straight for the door. He met his stare just as Michonne unsheathed the katana and used its handle to bang against the old door, the noise echoing through the quiet suburb.
Daryl's eyes drifted to the holstered revolver on Rick's belt causing Rick to lightly brush his fingers across the weapon. The metal was cold to the touch, even on the hottest of days lately. He flicked the holster open with his thumb and wrapped his fingers around the gun. Pulled it free.
Daryl gave a curt nod, raised the crossbow and turned back to Michonne before they proceeded onward.
Rick led the way through the woods, backtracking from where Joe and his group must have come from, eyes searching over every little detail possible. He knew trying to find Daryl at this time of night would be next to impossible. It was dangerous and too hard to see in the distance. But Michonne didn't say a word and neither did Carl. Because this was Daryl they were looking for, and none of them were ready to give up until they found him.
Every so often, Rick would shine the flashlight on the ground in hopes of finding a sign. When he noticed something different, something other than dirt, twigs, and leaves, he froze.
Blood. He was seeing blood.
Rick turned to see Michonne was examining the nearest tree and found the same results. Blood on the tree, blood on the ground. And it seemed to make a sort of trail. Rick felt as though his heart was in his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick.
Rick scoured over everything then: the nearby walkers, the few bodies that littered the ground. After encountering two walkers and a deceased body of one, he didn't think he could keep going. He couldn't even kill the two walkers, only side stepped them as Michonne put them down. It hadn't even occurred to him that others from the prison could be out here too, making him feel even sicker.
Carl checked the next body they came to on the ground. He looked back at Rick and shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. Because it wasn't Daryl.
Rick scrubbed a shaky hand over his blood clotted beard. He knew Carl meant well with the fleeting smile, knew it meant they were that much more hopeful at finding Daryl alive. But the odds seemed to keep slipping.
Rick followed the trail of blood the best he could, Michonne and Carl keeping a watchful eye of their surroundings. They reached a paved road just as Rick allowed himself to look up from the ground and straight ahead to where the path might have led. Rick's vision blurred as he made out two bodies on the ground next to an abandoned, rusty SUV. For a moment, he couldn't tell if he was seeing things or if it was real. But one of the two bodies looked like he had a mop of dark hair and a leather-like jacket.
Rick passed his gun and flashlight off to Carl before pulling the strap of the crossbow over his head, setting it on the ground, and approached the SUV. The one body, which as Rick got closer could tell was a dispatched walker, was almost lying completely on top of the other body. He cautiously reached forward to pull the dead back but stopped when there was a low moan.
Carl had jogged over closer then and shined the light down on them, Michonne right behind him, katana ready for Rick's sake. They were almost caught off guard once they realized it was, in fact, Daryl.
