Beth sat in the passenger seat with her knees pulled against her chest, her right hand clutching her knife. Daryl had insisted that she try to sleep while he drove down back-country roads, taking turns at random to further distance them from the funeral home. Certain that the lingering adrenaline and weight of her own thoughts would keep her up, Beth had been surprised to find herself being gently shook awake some hours later.
Daryl had pulled off the highway at the base of a bridge, parking the car alongside a creek and well out of view from the road. It was still dark out and, if the dashboard clock was correct, it was only a little after four. Daryl was leaning his own seat back, his feet propped on the dash and one arm bent beneath his head.
"You okay to keep watch?" he had asked without looking at her.
"Mmhmm," she had assured him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and unsheathing her knife.
That was several hours ago. Daryl had fallen asleep and she had kept watch as the sun had begun its slow hot climb. She could already feel a few beads of sweat gathering along her hairline.
Never before had she realized how great a liability it was to be young, thin, and a woman in a lawless world; that these qualities made her desirable prey and put in danger anyone who might try to protect her. Even after what happened with Maggie and the Governor, and after the horror stories shared by some of the other survivors at the prison, the insulating love of her family seemed an impregnable shield. Things like rape and kidnap couldn't touch her with them around.
Rape. The word seemed foreign and sharp in her mind. That's what those men would've done. Raped me. If it hadn't been for Daryl...
Her thoughts were interrupted by the rustle of parting leaves. Glancing into the rear view mirror, Beth saw a lone walker stumble from the woods. His graying clothes snagged on branches and twigs as he lunged towards the car.
She sprang up and hobbled quickly towards the snarling walker. With a little cry of exertion Beth plunged the blade into it's skull. Panting, she yanked the knife from the still corpse and wiped the gore off on its holey shirt.
"Ya shoulda called me," Daryl muttered when she sat back in the car and slammed the door.
"I can handle one walker on my own!" She snapped back. She had felt powerful in that moment as her blade sank into the rotting flesh, as she became the protector instead of the victim. Now she felt cross and angry with herself. Killing walkers isn't supposed to be fun, she had yelled at Daryl the afternoon they had spent at the still. The exhilarating feeling of power now left her feeling ashamed.
He didn't respond, but reached into the back seat to grab his pack.
"Only got half a bottle left of water. You?"
"About the same." She answered quietly. "Daryl... I found this map in the glove box while you were sleepin. I think...I think we should go back to the prison."
"Ain't nothin there," he reminded her flatly.
"I know...I know it's not gonna be the same. I know we can't stay there. But maybe there's still some supplies. Some of the canned goods, ya know? And maybe...maybe we could pick up someone's trail." She tried to sound confident, tried to suppress the aching desire she felt to find some clue of her family's fate. Then, in an attempt to sell him on it: "Besides, we could get your bike."
"We're safer in a car," He stroked his chin with the tip of his thumb, looking forward.
"Not this one!" She insisted. "Daryl, there are more of those men out there. What if they recognize the car? What if they come after us?"
He grunted in agreement and pulled his seat forward before throwing the car into reverse.
"Tell me when to turn."
The car cruised down a dirt road in the woods near the prison. Daryl waited for the trees to part and the prison to come into view before bringing it to a gentle stop. Without speaking, the pair got out and she took his place in the driver's seat. Daryl leaned in the open window to speak to her.
"We meet back here. Go slow enough that they can follow, but if they get too close you hit the gas. Got it?"
Beth nodded, her eyes round and lips held in a grimace. She had fallen silent as they neared the prison. Daryl could sense her tension and nerves.
"Hey." He said quietly, pulling her gaze to him. Finding himself unable to come up with words of comfort, of advice, he simply held her gaze and nodded once, hoping that she would understand.
Beth returned the nod with a weak smile before driving away.
Their plan was simple; she would drive towards the prison and honk, luring the dead towards the car. When they all came her way like lemmings following the herd she would drive back up the road bringing the dead with her. When she was far enough away, she would floor the car and, hopefully, get enough speed to shake the walkers. He would run down from the opposite side, grab his bike and whatever supplies he could, and meet her back on the dirt road.
Peering out from behind a gnarled oak, he watched as the blue sedan crept towards the prison. The place looked as if it had been frozen mid battle. The tank and small fleet of cars the Governor had led were still aimed aggressively at the crumbling brick walls, the chain-link fence pulled down behind them. The fires along the watchtower and cell block had ceased smoldering but black soot marked the smoke trails. Several walkers strayed around the old cars and garden.
She gave the horn a timid honk that caught the attention of nearby walkers. They turned from their aimless stumbling, reaching out towards the blue sedan. The car gave a nervous lurch forward as the dead neared it. Then came a second blast from the horn, this one stronger and more lasting. Daryl saw the walkers all along the prison yard turn now, fueled not only by the blaring of the car horn, but by the movement of their fellows as well. The pack grew closer to Beth now – Daryl saw with a jolt of fear the decaying hands of a walker make contact with the taillights before another lurch pitched the car forward. C'mon girl.
Slowly, evenly, the car began to move again. Daryl let out a long sigh. Beth seemed to have mastered her fear as she drove deliberately down the road. When the last few rotting stragglers had abandoned the yard he made his was soundlessly towards the prison.
Thank God she wouldn't have to see this, he thought as he slipped toward the cell block with his crossbow held aloft.
The remains of friends and enemies littered the parking lot, staining the cement a deep reddish-black. Up close the whole place reeked of rotting meat and burning skin. A rasping sound to his right caused Daryl to swing around as one last walker came drunkenly at him.
With a quick twang the bolt flew from his crossbow and embedded itself through the walker's eye. Daryl retrieved his bolt and strode back towards the cell block.
Beth parked at the meeting point and pulled out her knife. She had lead the parade of walkers nearly two miles until the last prison tower was out of sight before gunning the engine and circling back through country roads. The drive had been the longest 30 minutes of her life, a test of her nerves as she balanced between keeping the dead close but not too close. She still felt strung up, jumpy. The knife's handle shook slightly in her grasp. Where was Daryl?
Her eyes raked the prison for any sign of him. She took deep, steadying breaths and tried not to imagine Daryl trapped inside with a hoard of walkers.. She had wanted to go with him, reasoning that they were always safer with someone to watch their back, but he had refused point blank to let her.
Maybe he doesn't think I could help him. Maybe he thinks I'll just get in the way. Her old insecurity plagued her. But then she remembered the look he had given her before she drove away. You can do this, it had seemed to say. You are strong enough.
"I am strong enough. I am." she whispered to herself, and the handle of the knife stilled in her hand.
The triumphant roar of a bike engine cut through the air. Grinning despite herself, Beth grabbed her backpack and the Georgia map from the sedan just as Daryl rounded a curve to pull up beside her.
"Found tracks on a trail back there. A couple people came this way." He called over the engine's purr. "Hop on."
"Daddy never let me ride one." She confessed hesitantly.
"Shit, never?" He smiled goodnaturedly. "C'mon." He held out his hand to stabilize her as she clumsily swung one leg over the bike. "Put yer feet here," he nudged the passenger pegs. "Hold on tight to me. If I lean, you lean."
"Okay!" Her voiced sounded high over the idle purring of the engine as her arms met around his middle.
"You set?" He called over his shoulder. She nodded, tightening her grip and pressing her cheek against the warm leather of his vest, as the bike sped forward and down a wooded trail.