Ahh.. Chapter three. So I realize this is really dragging right now, but I'm gonna pick it up in the next few chapters. baaaaah. Review please, loves 3


"The Hell..?"

I whipped my head around, still pulling desperately at the arrow in my hand. A taller man, at least a good few inches taller than me stood a few yards off, crossbow in hand, looking confused as all bloody hell.

"Please," I practically gasped out, my hands now sticky with blood, "Don't eat me. I swear, I'd taste terrible. Go for the deer."

He looked at me like I was stark raving mad, "Ya on something funny there, short stuff?"

"...what? No! No.. I just- You're not some crazy cannibal, right?"

My eyes were burning at this point, tearing up as I stopped struggling. Blinking them away he moved closer and I flinched back out of instinct.

"Hold still," He grumbled and moved to the arrow as I stepped to the side a bit giving him as much space as possible.

Grabbing it with a firm fist he looked to me with clear blue eyes.

"Ready?"

"Wait, you're gonna just yank it out?"

Well as if that wasn't the most retarded thing to say. What else would he do? Lop off my hand?

"Tha' fuck else you want me t' do?"

Fuck I was pissing him off. His brow creased slightly as he stared at my hand again before giving me another glance.

With another round of white-hot pain the bolt was out of my hand and the tree and the blood flowed free.

"Lose tha' shirt," He demanded, hooking the bolt into place on his crossbow.

"W-What?"

"Ya wanna bleed more or what?" He cocked the string back, setting the bow to fire before placing it against the tree.

Sniffling pathetically I removed my backpack then my flannel leaving me in only my layered tank tops before handing it to him. He grabbed my hand before wrapping the ruined article of clothing around it. I grimaced even more when my eyes caught the squirrels strung over his shoulder, bloodied and limp.

"Hold that tight, keep pressure on it.."

He glanced down at my bag, "Ya got anything in that?"

"N-no.. But I've got some stuff in my truck.. A few yards that way," I nodded my head in the direction of the road and he nodded.

He grabbed my bag, abandoned bat and his crossbow and followed me towards the road. Breaking out of the trees we both paced quickly to the waiting vehicle, glancing around the area for any stray walkers.

Popping the tailgate with my good hand I dug into one of the newest supply bags from Atlanta and picked out one of the first aid kits.

He gave me a stiff nod and motioned me to sit on the tailgate when he saw the small white box and I complied silently. He placed the cocked crossbow beside me along with my dented and bloodied bat before popping the box open and getting started on mending my hand.

He was silent as he worked with my wound, his calloused hands barely grazing my own. Like he didn't want to actually touch me. Under all the sweat and dirt he was probably very good looking in that rugged scruffy kind of way. I fought a cracking smile at the thought, pulling my hand back in shock as he poured alcohol over my hand.

"Fuck, that burns!" I groaned and he just gave me a look that screamed 'no shit.'

His eyes were an amazing blue now that I saw him in clear light and I couldn't help but stare. He shook his head after a second before cleaning the blood from my hand and wrapping it correctly.

"So... you shoot every girl you come across or am I getting special treatment?" I joked, looking to the afternoon sky for a second.

He snorted a short laugh and I smiled.

"Don't usually find girls wanderin' 'round pettin' deer," He glanced up at me with a grin so slight you'd miss it if you didn't look.

"Well most guys wouldn't drop hunting a buck that big to fix a hole in someone's hand. Forgive me for questioning your methods."

He paused and looked to the woods for a second before returning to the gauze, "Track it down again later. Keep myself busy," He gave a slight shrug and I nodded, trying not to stare too much.

He seemed like just a normal guy in all of this. Anyone else I'd met was pushed to the breaking point. They were usually violent and cruel but him... He was so quiet I was actually surprised. Somehow when I'd heard the classic hic-town accent I expected an angry redneck to come barrel-assing through the woods raising all kinds of hell...

"..You got a name?"

I nodded, "Vivianne. What about you?"

"Daryl."

Her certainly wasn't a man of words, that much was obvious. Though I had to say he was certainly.. strange. I mean, most people would have flipped shit for me having fucked their shot up then called me an idiot, yanked the bolt out, and left me to bleed. But he was... different. I caught myself looking him over more carefully, noting the adorable Monroe mole he had and the dust of small freckles across his shoulders, frowning at the scars along his well-tanned skin. It was obvious he'd been through a lot and I couldn't help but wonder how many of those were there before this all started.

My attention snapped back to reality when he stepped back and nodded. My hand was bound in gauze, the slightest tinge of red in the center on both sides.

"All set. Don't forget to change the bandages," He nodded to my hand before quickly eying me over.

He was just gonna leave..?

"Want- Uhm... Want to stick around for lunch, I guess?"

"I just shot you. And yer offerin' me lunch?"

I laughed at the expression on his face before moving back into the bed of the truck.

"Least I could do. We're in the middle of the apocalypse and you stop long enough to bind my hand up."

He shook his head with a small grin before hopping onto the tailgate. "Yer a weird one."

"So I've been told."

A lunch of canned peaches and instant ramen(courtesy of my single burner stove) was more than welcome as we sat in mutual silence. He was awkwardly comfortable to be around and I didn't feel constantly pressured to have a conversation going. He never glanced at me for more than a few seconds, even when we were talking. He'd always glance around, studying the woods or the sky, but always listened.

Although he seemed fine so long as I kept a physical distance. At one point I nudged him after a snide remark and I couldn't help but notice the way he flinched from the physical contact.

"So, you out here by yourself?" He asked as we finished lunch, the sounds of cicada's echoing in the Georgian summer.

I dropped my chin into my good hand, elbow resting on my knee. "Yeah... I was in a group for a little while when this all started but things went bad. Went on a supply run a few cities over and got hoarded. Anyone that didn't get dragged off wound up bit..."

He nodded in understanding and glance into the truck bed at the supplies I had. I followed his gaze and shrugged, "Went supply hunting most of the time. The small towns around here had some decent stuff left. Although WalMart was crazy helpful."

He eyed the crossbow and guns tucked closest to the back, "Know how to use any of 'em?"

I straight out laughed at this and he quirked an eyebrow at me.

"God, hardly. The guns, yeah. But a crossbow? No. I was only taught how to use a classic bow, not this fancy stuff."

I'd taken up an archery course back when I was in high school out of boredom, though I'd wanted to take fencing but the class cost way more than I could afford. They taught us how to use a classic bow and arrow, not the weighted hunters bows or crossbows. Those were reserved for the advanced course that I was never able to afford.

New York hadn't exactly prepared me for this whole apocalypse thing but I'd like to think my common sense was helping me out more than most. I was able to keep my cool around walkers for the most part. The only time I found myself panicking was when I'd had to take down people I actually... knew.

Then again, it was probably like that for everyone.

"What about you, you all alone in the woods..?"

"Nah, got a group of locals hanging near an old quarry up the way. Bunch o' idiots."

I snickered a bit, cradling my hand in my lap. "Not too bright on the whole 'survive the walkers' thing yet?"

I nodded deftly when he snorted out another laugh, staring up to the sky. "There was this uhm... Crazy guy when I was leaving Atlanta," He glanced over to me then followed my eyes to the sky. "Came into the city on a horse, all decked out like some kinda fancy sheriff. Walkers were on him faster than anything I've ever seen. Crazy bastard..."

It was silent for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from a few stray birds and the cicadas. "Probably could have saved him..." I mumbled with a sigh.

"Prob'ly not."

I stared at Daryl with raised brows and he keep his eyes on the sky. "Walkers swarm noise. No way ya coulda' helped him," He met my eyes with another stiff nod and I cracked another small smile.

"Thanks..."

He slid down from the tailgate and picked up his crossbow, checking the string and counting the bolts.

"you leaving..?"

Again he simply nodded and I gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for binding my hand. And not trying to eat me."

He shook his head with a small smile, hefting his crossbow onto his shoulder. Meeting my eyes once more, he squinted in the afternoon sun, shoulders squared and stiff. His blue eyes blazed in the light and I smiled wider as he turned and stalked off down the road, eventually breaking into the treeline. Somehow, without him needing to speak at all, I fully understood what he had meant.

In his own silent way, he was apologizing. And I couldn't help but be grateful for finding one person left in the world that kind, even if it was hidden under a scruffy, southern man with a string of squirrels over his shoulder.

The afternoon quickly turned to night and I decided to spend the night on the road. For awhile I contemplated looking for the camp Daryl had mentioned but couldn't bring myself to just wander onto their land so I moved the truck to the side of the road. I made myself comfortable in the bed of my truck, the small port window int he back open into the tightly locked up cab. I'd layered three sleeping bags on top of one of those... camping sleep mats; a thin little piece of styrofoam that made the ridges in the bed hurt a little less. I'd shoved all of my bags to the sides leaving the center open enough to move, propped up a little solar lantern and settled in for the night.

Although I quickly regretted it because the forest was filled with nothing but noise and, for me, noise meant paranoia. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, my hand aching and the snapping twigs and rustling bushes outside waking me more times than I cared to count. Eventually, once the air had cooled to a decent 60, I dozed off, watching the stars vanish into the twilight.

I was jolted awake to a muggy morning and the wailing of a siren.

No...

A car alarm?

I threw my sleeping bags off and scrambled into a sitting position as a little red sports car came into view.

"What the hell is that..?"

The driver had to be doing atleast 70, flying down the road with the car alarm blaring. He flew past me and just kept going as the sound died into the distance.

Crawling into the cab I started the truck and jammed it into gear, cranking down the windows and following the stupid little dinner bell as far away from Atlanta as humanly possible.