Life after the dead
Chapter 3

Gentle hands ran over his skin, tickling and cold to the fever that coursed through his body. A weight on his chest and a strain on his muscles. He couldn't even distinguish what part of him was actually hurting, nor could he open his eyes or move his limbs to check. Trying to speak, he mumbled, tasting blood as he did. The hands withdrew from his chest and found his face. Cold fingers shifting his face, and cupping it, then a voice called him, unfamiliar and concerned for him. It was muffled by the blood rushing through his brain. "a-right, you-... safe. i- okay, you're okay." he managed to catch, before his headache claimed him again.

He couldn't be sure how much time had passed when he managed to open his left eye, it seemed to be daytime now, but he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. Everything was blurry and yellow bleeding into all kinds of blotchy colours. He huffed and cleared his throat, testing his fingers which curled on command. He could move his toes inside his boots, but as he lifted his head, his torso screamed in agony, sending sharp pains to his head. He must have made too much noise as a figure came through the door. He wanted to say something, call out and threaten them, whoever they were but all he could manage were grunts and hisses, which he exerted as they came upon him. "Don't move" She warned him "you need to rest, your body needs to heal" she informed, which he disagreed with. He squirmed and flung his arm to find her. After several tries, which left his body in agony he found her, she had taken him by the wrist, slim hands and guided them to her shoulder. "I'm on the right. I'm not going to hurt you." she reassured him.

He turned his head to face her, following the sound of her voice and found a blurred vision with what he thought was blonde hair, in the light "Beth?" he managed to ask, his voice strained and gravelled. He pulled at her shoulder, darting his eyes over her, trying to identify her, but as she got closer, the blur adjusted and left him disappointed. For a moment he had dared to hope that he had found her again. The girl that hovered in front of him was far from the girl he had let down, and it almost reduced him to tears.

He huffed and snorted, eyeing the person in front of him as she came into focus. She seemed young, but worn, like everyone did these days. "Hey" she said with a smile. He wanted to reply to her and say something, ask her things, but all he could manage was a groan. His torso was bare and wrapped up with bandages and pads of some description. He could see blood stains on the white and blue and yellow bruise patches over his ribs, stomach and even his arms. He squinted as he tried to remember what had happened, his head started to pound as he tried.

He was in a girl's bedroom, from what he could tell. The walls were a horrible shade of yellow, as were the bedsheets and many of the ornaments. There were toys and clothes and things that didn't match up with the girl's age. She had to be over twenty, surely. He wondered if she had been the one to tend to his wounds. "Where am I?" he near barked, to which she seemed to roll her eyes. "You're safe. In a house not far from where I saved your ass."

He hissed as he started to remember the hours previous. There had been men, not unlike himself and an argument that would surely have lead to his death. He had known that he men he was with were bad, hell he had grown up with their kind. Foul-mouthed, angry, drunk, selfish and all together dangerous people had always been a part of his life and so he assumed he could handle them. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they turned on them, but he had hoped to be long gone by then, he just hadn't dare to leave. There was no place for him to go, the prison had disbanded and his people are gone. He had failed Beth.

He groaned and eyed the girl that hovered in front of him, pressing and annoyingly concerned with his well being. She had appeared out of nowhere, and had risked her life to save his for no apparent reason. It left him to wonder what she wanted from him, or if she had some sort of death wish. Why the hell was someone like her alone in the first place?

She had been cautious and gentle when binding his wounds, even though he was squirming to get away from her and grunting at her not to touch him. Her manner came unexpected, especially after her disposition at the car storage. She had been sharp and skilled and ruthless to the marauders there. She didn't even blink when she planted an arrow in one of them, nor did she when she had started to threaten Joe to secure his release.

If he didn't know any better he'd think she was a long lost relative, if not for the obvious difference between them. She would have been the bud of every racist joke if she were to ever come across Merle, or any other relative for that matter. She carried the same weathered expression as he caught himself wearing, the same tired and sharp eyes. Her eyebrows were lowered to the point where they started overlap with her eyes, and her mouth was nothing but a thin slit. There was a scar on her temple, and a hitch in her jaw, testifying to fights she had had at some point, nasty ones at that. The rest of her body was covered, but he could tell that her right hand had been broken at one point, and not properly set, two of her fingers were crooked and bumped at the phalanges. She would have fit in surely, if not for her skin.

"Rabbit-man, move your arm a little." she ordered, mimicking the desired actions, exposing her ribs. He pulled a face, he hated the nickname she had given him, but did as she asked, knowing she only meant to inspect the break. He sucked his teeth, as the girl went about peeling at his bandages, gently prodding and poking as if he was going to break under her touch, completely opposite from the behaviour she had shown before.

"It's Daryl" he corrected and watched as the girl's face lit up, nodding. She placed her hand on her chest and called herself Gwen. Daryl furrowed his brow at that, it was certainly not the name he was expecting, not with her looking the way she did. She made a face at him, tilting her head, forcing him to give way his thoughts. "but you're..." he started, and gestured at her generally. She then raised her brow and answered him quick and sharply "American."

Daryl swallowed back a comment he was going to make, afraid to offend her. He had not wanted to imply anything racist, so he simply nodded. He had just expected her to be called something like Isabella or Camilla or something latina like that, but admittedly he didn't know many. He had recognised her accent as foreign but he wasn't able to place it. It sounded nothing like the latinos they'd encountered in Atlanta. His guilt was short-lived however, she didn't seem to mind, she simply nodded at him and informed him that he should take a few days to heal up before doing anything.

"I'll see about getting you something to eat."

With that she left, stomping loudly as if the house needed to be intimidated, leaving the door ajar behind her. Daryl signed, his hand finding his face and pressing firmly against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He opened them again to the sound of his brother, Merle. "What are you doing baby-brother? Laying around, being all useless. It wasn't that bad of a beating, hell you've had worse! You're a joke, laying up in this mansion, getting rescued by a piece of tail, pathetic!" Merle cursed at him. "And what's the plan now huh? Play house with that Spick bitch?You gonna get her killed too? Face it little brother, you're not made to be around people. Couldn't even save that little girl, blonde piece, couldn't even save me..." He dragged out, springing tears to his eyes. "Shut up man" Daryl breathed, his voice betraying him as he drew the covers nearer his face, closing his eyes again so tightly he hoped they would never open again, but as he did he felt a pair of lips on his hairline, leaving behind a small kiss, a kiss he knew well, causing him to shoot open his eyes. He had expected to see Carol standing over him, smiling as she had done when he was shot by Andrea and she had brought him dinner, but he saw nothing.

God she would be a welcome sight now. To see her face, or anyone's would maybe make him feel less haunted. His mind blurred, like he had a thousand cotton balls between his eyes.

He could hear Gwen stomping back to his room, her boots digging into the floorboards loudly as if she weighed a hundred ton, before she kicked the door further open. He quickly swiped his arm over his eyes just in case and turned to her. She was carrying a tray with an three different cans, and a plate of something hot. He identified it as scrambled eggs, as yellow as the walls of the room, as she set it down on the bed. "Hey, uhh I didn't know what you liked so, I just brought a bunch of stuff.." she said, her voice trailing off as she started pointing out the cans. "Peaches, spam, and spotted dick, which is a sort of raisin cake stuff.. It's not bad." she said. Just at the sight of it his stomach had started to growl. He hadn't eaten properly in a few days, and here she was, bringing him enough to feed him four times over.

He gave her a look, not quite sure how to go about accepting and actually eating it. She in turn pointed at the fork beside the plate and urged him to dig in. Hesitant, he took it up and as soon as she did she started to ply off the lids. His hunger overtaking his hesitance, he started to scoop up and fork the egg into his mouth, not even bothering to chew. Then, after clearing half the plate he eyed her again. She had just been happily watching him, big eyed and intrigued as if she had never seen someone eat before.

"What?" Daryl snarled, pulling a face, to which she quickly shrugged, and picked half a peach out of one of the cans, shaking the juice from it before taking a bite. Though she shook it, with a single bite her lips and lower jaw were dripping with peace juice, which left for an all together unattractive image. She chewed happily for a second, her eyes darting about, clearly thinking of something to day. She used her sleeve to wipe her mouth between bites, which only added to the image. Daryl near came to a smile, as he looked at her. He started to fork more of the egg to his mouth, dug for a peach himself, and took turns with each hand. Daryl waited for her to mention what had happened, or at least say something about the filth she saved him from, but she didn't.

"Wow, you must've been starving" she remarked, her mouth still full making her voice sound sloppy. Daryl only huffed and chewed and rolled his shoulders as they had started to ache. "Got anything you like by the way? I've got a bunch of stuff downstairs and I could always have a look-" the suddenly stopped mid sentence, and rose from the bed, turning her head, her hand instantly finding the knife clipped to her belt. Daryl perched, a shot of pain coursing through him as he did. "What?" he hissed, quiet as he could, but she had already raised a finger to shush him.

She then quickly moved, retrieved his crossbow from the other side of the room and handed it to him, then he heard it too, the clattering of metal. "More than one..." she breathed, as she slid her knife back in its holster. She then reached behind her back and retrieved her bow and quiver, dropping it on the ground. They clattered and scratched as she swiped up a handful of arrows and stuffed them between her trousers and belt, and again when she swiped up a hand more. Serious and focussed she looked back at Daryl, who had already shifted out from under his duvet.

With big steps she took the doorknob in hand. "I'm closing the door behind me, don't come out, whatever you hear" she said, and left no room for argument as she had already stepped out into the hallway. Daryl grunted angrily, as his body refused to move as quickly as he'd like. He had needed the girl's help to get into that damned bed in the first place, and now he needed her again to get out of it. He had wanted to call out to her, tell her no, tell her to stay, tell her that they would go together, but she had been so damn fast. "God damned" he cursed, as he steadied himself. There was no way in hell that he was going to just lay there and let some kid fend for him.

Hissing and panting he moved to the door, holding out his crossbow in a crooked manner that his ribs demanded of him. Slowly and quietly he opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. He followed it to the left, and down the stairs. A walked laid stretched out on the stone slabs there, a arrow neatly piercing his eye. He groaned, as he turned and raised up his bow again. Another corpse lay flat against the far wall, that one too had an arrow neatly stuck in its socket. Daryl drew in a breath, and made a turn to the right, crossing the room, finding the front door.

He pushed it open with his shoulder and found Gwen perched up on one of her traps, shooting down walkers that were spread across the yard. "Do you know how long it took me to set up those fences?! Huh?!" she screamed angrily as she bent down to kill one of the walkers that were clawing at her feet. She swiftly kicked another before her eye fell upon Daryl. They widened in anger "Get your ass back inside you lunatic!" she screamed, firing another arrow into a walker. Daryl in turn scoffed, cleared his throat and denied himself the pain. He swiftly fired an arrow into a walker's head, and glocked another in the face with his bow. There were only a few more stranglers, far from him, and his muscles couldn't bare another reload, but he put his foot down and dragged through nonetheless.

Gwen jumped from her elevation and shot two more walkers, strait from the draw. She drew an arrow out of one the heads and headed towards the last walker, but Daryl had already had it in his sights, and lined up his arrow, catching it right between the eyes. Pleased with himself he let out a noise, he turned to look at Gwen, to gloat over his kill but she was already stalking over, rage set in her eyes. He took a step back as she crashed upon him, prodding his shoulders. "Thought I told you to stay inside?!" he near screamed. Daryl's face scrunched up and old anger bubbled to the surface. "I don't take orders for anyone, girly! Least of all you" he bit, scrunching up his nose in irritation. She then sucked in a breath through her teeth. "well good!" she barked, catching him off guard.

She pointed back at the walker he had just nailed. "Cuz that, was one hell of a shot." she said in admiration and punched him against the shoulder. He let out a breath, nearing a laugh "Watch it, I'm injured." he joked, to which she nodded. "I'd love to see what you can do on your best."

She stalked back inside, leaving him with questions he desperately sought to have answered. But for now, he was fine with waiting a little longer. He didn't have anywhere to go anyway, and she was okay.