Daryl
After Blaire agrees to see the doctor in Alexandria I begin on dinner. She puts up a fight about helping, insisting she's well enough to make food. I ignore her. I can figure out how to light the stove-top and heat up the food. Blaire's eyes stay on me, following my every move. There's distrust. The two of us dance around each other, waiting for the other to attack. Sure, she's alone now, but her people could be waiting out somewhere, ready to attack at a signal. I keep my crossbow close, an arrow fitted in it, ready to shoot if needed. At least she hasn't zip-tied my hands together or tried to injure me in any way. She's weak though, I can see it in her eyes. If it's just her and she tires to attack I can take her down. If there are others, people hidden upstairs or in the woods, it'll have to play out.
"Do you wanna eat out on the porch?" Blaire questions once I've blown out the flame under the pan and found bowls.
I shrug as Blaire's lynx begins to lick at the remaining food bits in the pan. My instinct is to shoo the animal away but the brunette sitting in front of me doesn't seem too concerned so I leave it. I still have no idea how we're gonna get Deanna to agree to let her keep the thing. Hell, there isn't even dogs around Alexandria and now this girl wants to bring in a wild animal.
"Come on," Blaire gets up, grabbing her bowl and heading towards the stairs.
I follow behind quietly, scanning over the new environment. Pictures hang on the walls, images of the family who used to own this home. At the top of the stairs is a big white frame, a baby with a pink bow tied around its head smiles down at me from behind the glass. The date in the corner reads March seventieth, only a few months before shit hit the fan. My thoughts instantly go to lil' ass-kicker back at Alexandria, probably snuggled under the quilt, donated by another family, fast asleep. We got lucky with that one. There are three other doors upstairs all shut. As Blaire pushes open a door at the end of the hall, I spin around, glancing over the landing once more. At the far side of the bedroom is a glass door; leading out onto a porch that overlooks the back of the house.
"You put up that fence?" I question, taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs digging through my pockets for my cigarettes and a lighter.
The brunette glances in my direction, spooning some of the Spam and corn mix into her mouth, swallowing as I light the end of my cigarette. "Not all of it. The part along the lake and the rest of the path was already done. My group put the rest of it up and strung all the cans. We used to have shifts to go check and make sure everything was still in working order. I've not checked it since I got hurt though."
For a while we eat in silence. I wonder what Aaron told Deanna about me not coming back. She's probably not happy. I bet Rick will have something to say about it, he always does. Despite the circumstances, Deanna will let her stay at least until the wound is healed, longer if she doesn't cause trouble.
"Why didn't you just leave with that Aaron guy? He didn't want me. You could've gone. I was in no position to stop you."
I frown, pulling my knees up to my chest. I don't know why I decided Blaire was worth it. Sure, she's hurt and needs a doctor, but I could've just bandaged her up, given her a handful of antibiotics, and been on my way. Beth's face flashes across my vision, her words about caring and needed to keep part of our humanity ringing in my ears. "When you turned around, the look in your eyes. You just reminded me of someone I used to know. I would've wanted someone to help her out."
"Girlfriend?" Blaire questions.
"Naw."
"Is she still alive?"
I swallow hard, turning to face Blaire. Her grey eyes are set on me, her stare intense enough to make me shift around a bit. The feeling that Blaire can read my thoughts washes over me. "Just eat yer food. We gotta early day tomorrow."
Blaire
Daryl's avoidance of my question disappoints me. For a second, I thought I had him. Then, just like that, he shut back down, putting up his walls and forcing me onto the other side. Although he no longer wants to talk, I continue to watch him, his movements entrancing me. It's like some kind of rehearsed dance; the way he lifts his cigarette to his lips, muscles rippling ever so slightly with the movement. His cheeks hollow as he breaths in the smoke, letting it flow out of his nose. I continue to watch as Daryl stands, twirling the still smoking butt of the cigarette between his dirt stained fingers before letting it fall.
"Why don't we go check that fencing?" His continued caution, though understood, is beginning to get on my nerves. I'm not going to hurt him; he must know that by now. I've had plenty of chances, been close enough to do damage. I haven't asked for his weapons. There are no people waiting for the cover of night to move in and attack.
"Okay." Together we get up, shutting the balcony door and walking across the bedroom I've been staying in since arriving here.
When we first arrived, there were twelve of us. I was appointed the leader by this point and as a whole the group decided I should be allowed to have a private room. The twins along with two men they were traveling with took the bedroom off to the left of the upstairs landing. An older gentleman, Roderick, took the room on the right, offering to share with another person after he discovered there were two beds. The family took the bedroom downstairs, a decision I made for them. They needed to have their own space, to feel like one unit again instead of just an extension of the rest of our people. The youngest of our group, Patricia, orphaned by the outbreak, originally resigned to sleeping on the couch. That was until she discovered the attic space. There was an assortment of old junk up there including a bed frame and an antique dresser. I'm pretty sure she spent a solid month tidying the space up and turning it into her own private bedroom. A smile crosses my face as I replay the happier times in my head.
As Daryl and I exit the house through the backdoor, I pull my gun out of the holster, checking the clip, making sure I have bullets in the event that I need them. Daryl's got his crossbow in hand, letting it hang down by his side. The fingers on his other hand stay curled around the handle of his knife.
"So what's it like in this community?" I question Daryl as we walk along the west side of the fence towards the lake at the back of the property.
Daryl glances at me, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Its safe I guess. The people there don't really get it. They've been inside too long. Decent people, though. We got walls 'n power 'n food."
"Do you think I'll get along with those people?" I question. I've been on my own for about two months now. Daryl is the first person I've talked to since the death of my final group member. People put me on edge. The living are calculated and have skills used to hunt and kill. People want other people dead. Trust has always been hard for me, but with the way the world works now it's become almost impossible. The last people I trusted and cared about ended up buried.
Daryl shrugs, "Don't know. My people'll probably like ya."
Nodding, I let the conversation stop. The answers I want won't come from talking things out. I have to be in this community, talk to those living within the walls. If I'm comfortable with them and the accept me, I'll stay. If not I'll have to continue to make it on my own.
"You can take my bedroom and I'll sleep downstairs." I offer, pulling some extra blankets out of the hall closet and handing them over to Daryl. "I shut the generator off at night so it'll get a little cold."
Daryl nods, "We're leavin' early tomorrow."
"I know," I answer before leaving Daryl, heading down the stairs and back into the living area.
The clock on the stove reads nine twenty-two. "Eight hours and thirty-eight minutes till sunrise." I mumble to myself, beginning to pull duffels out from under the TV hutch. As the night progresses on, I pack the cans and boxed food items into the bags. There's no point in leaving anything behind. This community will probably need the supplies.
Once the food is packed away, I sit on the couch; knees draw up to my chest, a blanket draped around my shoulder. Duke shits next to me, pink tongue working to clean his paws. My eyes stay focused on the VCR clock, watching the minutes tick by. My eyes grow heavy and I begin pinching the skin of my forearm, trying to ward the tired feeling off. I won't sleep. I won't let the nightmares take over. Not now.
"Come on! I saw it just up here! I swear!" Patricia laughs, her blonde hair, tied back in two braids this morning, bouncing against her back as she continues to run through the forest.
We've been tracking this flickering light through the woods. It appeared about two days ago. Originally, I told Patty that we wouldn't be going after it. We need to figure out a new course of action. After the last raid we lost the twins, the only other two from our group still alive. We can't afford to go looking for new people. After some coaxing and the offering up of her last box of Moon Pies, Patricia convinced me to at least check it out.
"Patty, wait up. We need to stay close!" I call after her. We've ventured further from the house than I wanted. We need to turn around before the sun starts to set. Those people who attacked our group are still out here and probably looking for vengeance for the two men we killed.
A scream up ahead causes me to run faster, almost stumbling over a fallen tree as I try to catch up to Patricia. The screams get closer as I enter a clearing. Mirrors are tied around the trees surrounding the area. In front of me is a pit about the size of a basement. Patty has fallen in. A wooden stake, sharpened at the top has gone clear through her thigh.
"It's okay, we're gonna figure out how to get you out." I try and remain calm as I sink to my knees, staring down at the frightened blonde.
As I look around for anything of use Patricia screams again, beginning to cry. "Blaire they're in here with me. Blaire!"
Dead ones walk across the pit towards Patricia. She does her best to fight them off, firing round after round. Unable to twist around, she misses their heads, quickly running out of ammunition. As she tries to get to her knife I fire into the pit, killing off six before the gun is empty. We didn't pack extra bullets.
The commotion has brought others. Dead ones begin to enter the cleaning in groups of two or three. Patricia continues to scream, as she flails her arm around, trying to get the ones in the pit with her knife. The dead begin falling into the hole, some breaking limbs along the way or impaling themselves on the other wooden stakes.
"Can you pull the stake out of you leg Patty?" I call down, lying flat on my stomach, trying to reach down into the pit to help her kill the dead.
The blonde blinks up at me, tears clinging to her face. She begins to kick at the part of the stake above her thigh. It splinters, eventually falling off to the side. Feeling a tug on my boot, I roll over just in time to kill a dead one who was set on biting into me. Standing back up, I slide my knife up under the chin of another, satisfied with the crunching sound of bone and body going limp seconds later. The woods are swarming, more and more pouring out of the trees.
"Blaire! I can't get my leg off."
"You have to Patty, Just lift it off." I call, trying to fight back my own tears. I'm not losing her.
"It won't!" She cries up at me. A dead on in the pit trips over her, landing with its teeth gnashing, fingers tearing into the hole in Patricia's leg. She screams as blood spurts everywhere. "Blaire!"
More of the dead have fallen, and although she tries to kill them, Patty is overwhelmed. I stand at the top of the hole as the dead rip into Patricia, her screams filling the air. My name escapes her lips as she reaches up, begging me to do something.
I fly forward, fingers curled around the handle of my knife. Breathing heavy, my eyes scan the room. I'm no longer in the forest, but safe inside the living room. The VCR clock reads two fifteen. I fell asleep, forced to relive the death of Patricia yet again. Wiping a tear away from my cheek I stand, letting my blanket fall to the floor. From my position I can hear the stairs creaking. Walking forward slowly, I make my way quietly up the stairs.
Daryl and I meet on the landing, knives raised, chest heaving. Even upon the realization that there is no imminent threat, we don't relax, neither of us wanting to be the first to lower our weapon. "Can't sleep?" I break the tense silence.
"Naw," Daryl answers back. "You?"
I shake my head, slowly lowering the arm holding the knife, "No."
"Want help packing up the rest of yer stuff?" Daryl offers, tucking his knife back into the holster.
Shrugging, I turn, heading back down the stairs. The clock over the stove reads two thirty. Only four hours and thirty minutes till sunrise.
Daryl
"How far is it to your camp?" Blaire asks as we load the final bags into the back of her car. In total we're bringing back about two bags of food and another full of other odds and ends. The lynx sits in the back seat, surrounded by tubs of gasoline and a bag full of extra weapons and ammunition.
"Maybe seventy miles," I answer back, shutting the passenger door. "We'll be there before lunch."
Blaire nods, eyes never leaving the house she's leaving behind. She plays with a pendant tied around her neck on a shoestring. Tears cling to her cheeks but she makes no move to wipe them away. As she blinks, a drip of water lands on her pants, creating a darker mark on them. She lets her thumb trail over this spot before putting the car into drive and heading towards the road.
We travel in silence. Blaire follows my directions, her body language and the look in her eyes telling me that she isn't present in the situation.
As we make the final turn on our journey to Alexandria, Blaire slams on the breaks, putting the car into park. She throws her door open, walking across the street towards a board with black letters on it. I watch her as she rearranges them, completely oblivious to the rest of her surrounding. A walker stumbles through the parking lot, it's yellowing eyes set on Blaire. I tense up, fingers curling around the door handle, ready to step in if I have to. As the walker grows closer, Blaire spins around, cutting its head clear off its shoulder with an axe she had brought along with her. Letting the weapon hang down at her side, she looks at the board for a second longer before crushing in the walker's skull with the heel of her boot and heading back to the car. Blaire puts the car in drive and continues down the road. Glancing in the rearview mirror I see the sign she stopped for. The words 'give a shit' stare back at me.
"Deanna's gonna want to interview you," I announce as the gates of Alexandria come into view. "Just give her a good story. Play up that injury. I'm gonna go to let the doctor know he'll have to see you."
Blaire, who seems to have come out of her funk after killing that walker, looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "An interview? Seriously?"
I shrug, "Just the way she likes to do things. Flash your lights, they'll let you in."
Once again Blaire gives me a look that says she thinks this whole thing is crazy. Nonetheless, she follows instructions, the gates of Alexandria beginning to slide open. She drives though, stopping just inside. As we come to a stop I open the door, stepping out on the street. Rick is waiting, giving me a nod as Blaire comes around to stand next to me. "Welcome to Alexandria."