"Lori saw it, you know. I thought she was nuts, but I guess she had it right."
Daryl's steps neither paused nor faltered as Rick began to speak quietly. He'd known conversation would be coming with the expedition and didn't try to shush the other man for it. He wasn't about to respond, though, just to allow the Deputy to use him as a sounding board for whatever was running through his head.
The topic, though, that Grimes had chosen wasn't much help for what Daryl was dealing with in his own head.
"The evening you went out alone, before you got hurt, we got to talking about it," Rick continued, uncaring as Daryl ignored him in favor of squatting to check some print on the ground. "I couldn't for the life of me figure out why you were looking so hard for…"
They both froze at the thoughts that filled the blank left by Rick's words at that moment. That little girl would haunt them both for the rest of their days. Her ghost, Daryl knew, would be far more damaging to his mind than Merle's. He could fight his brother's memory, use the remembered and imagined taunts to fire himself up when the will to go on began to fade, but Sophia…
"She's pregnant," Rick said suddenly, startling Daryl.
This time his steps did falter as the words processed. Given the focus of his own mind, those two words immediately brought protest tearing through his thoughts as he replayed the nights in the camp when his ears had been a little too tuned to the family sheltered a little ways from the tent he'd shared with Merle. He'd heard many sounds of hurt and abuse from the other tent and fought the want to rush in and stop it, but he hadn't intervened in Ed Peletier's handling of his family. Daryl knew, though, that there was just no way that the man had had any relations with his wife for Carol to have gotten pregnant.
She just couldn't be.
"I think she thinks it's Shane's," Daryl felt his lungs draw breath again at those words and he damned near blushed at realizing Rick had been talking about his own wife. "They…she thought I was dead, you see. I can't blame her for that."
Sure you can, Daryl wanted to reply, but he kept his silence and shook his head sadly at the fresh hell that the other man had found himself in.
But then, who among them wasn't dealing with some torment or another?
Carol was right. Nothing about this was natural and the adjustment to the new normal was looking to be the death of them all.
Rick seemed on the verge of cutting open another vein when the snap of a twig pushed aside thought for action.
They spun in sync to locate the threat, finding it in the form of Walker thrashing against a tree trunk. A blur of bushy tail told Daryl that the zombie's lunch had just scampered off and it'd be looking to them for nourishment as soon as it caught their scent. Not about to give it a chance to rush them, he quickly lined up his shot and twitched his finger on the trigger to let loose the arrow that pinned the thing to that tree.
Before moving to retrieve the bolt, he cast a speaking glance over his shoulder at the other man, and Rick holstered his Colt with a chagrined twist of his mouth then mimed zipping his lips.
The morning crept along slowly, much as they did.
They reached the outskirts of town without having caught a sign of the farmer, but Daryl knew they'd push on til dark, even if the effort went as wasted as Sophia's search. Knowing that Walkers were always to be found in any remains of civilization, like towns and cities, they took a rest in the woods before venturing out.
Their bottles of water were warm as hell from the heat and the jerky only caused them to chug more of the liquid, but neither man complained. Once they'd finished the bottle they'd been sipping on up to that point, Daryl shouldered his crossbow and picked their path once more.
His eyes lit on the steeple of a church and instinct turned his steps in that direction. The glaring midday sun that dripped sweat from his face likely had much to do with the absence of Walkers, but he knew they'd stir from wherever they lurked to give chase if Rick or he made their presence known.
He glanced over his shoulder to convey his destination to the other man, but saw the way Grimes was already staring off at the church, jaw setting with grim determination. Like minded, they moved quickly through the deserted street, heads on a constant swivel and weapons alternating the side of the street each man swept visually. Cars and obstacles were minimal in this place; giving few places to duck for cover should a Walker appear, giving them cause for extra speed and care with their motions.
Once they'd crept up the cement stairs of the church, Rick holstered his Colt and traded it in for the machete on his hip. Daryl kept the bow at ready.
After an exchange of speaking glances, he fell back to cover the Deputy, who then tightened his grip on the hilt in his left hand and cautiously began to open the door with his right.
Their eyes were slow to adjust to the dim interior, only shafts of light making it through the boarded up windows, but they soon saw the man seated at a pew halfway up. It was Hershel, hands folded in prayer and leaning on the back of the seats in front of him. Unlike the last church they had been in, this one appeared empty save the farmer, but neither of them took such things on faith.
They split apart, Daryl taking the left and Rick the right to check the interior more thoroughly. Once they reached the altar without encountering anything fishy, Daryl gave the Deputy a shrug and lowered his crossbow. Rick kept his weapon in hand, though, and held up a hand for caution as he turned his attention to the veterinarian.
Given how the man hadn't moved in response to their presence, Daryl was relatively sure he was still a man, but the caution was merited. He ducked his head through the strap on his bow to allow it to hang down his back while he went for the hatchet tucked through the back of his belt. They separated again to approach the figure from both sides.
"You needn't have bothered," Hershel spoke into the quiet without raising his head. "Maggie would have understood. With time."
The words told them that the man had not been bitten.
Yet.
And wasn't that word just the bitch of it all?
Sensing a conversation he had no interest in, Daryl locked eyes with Rick and communicated with a jerk of his head that he'd keep watch out front while these two talked. The Deputy accepted with a quick nod, moving to slide on to the pew and sit with the other man.
It wasn't long after taking up position in the shadows of the foyer that the clop of hooves reached his ears. They were bringing the animals in slow, but it was still more noise that Daryl liked having made.
He didn't question Glenn or Maggie for their arrival outside the area they'd been assigned. The girl was smart. It was likely just the upset at having found her father missing in his current state of mind that had kept her from immediately guessing he'd seek sanctuary in a place like this.
She slid from the horse and tossed him the reins after he met her questioning gaze with a nod to confirm her dad was indeed inside. He caught them instinctively; grabbing Glenn's when the kid followed his girlfriend without thinking about the horse he abandoned. Daryl hobbled both animals then began a quick sweep of the area to see how much trouble had stirred up.
His boots tread lightly over gravel and pavement as he rounded the corner of the church, crossbow back at ready in his steady hands.
Two of the bastards were almost upon him when he cleared the structure, demanding a quick firing of the arrow cocked and loaded on the tiller. He pulled a second bolt from the quiver and drove it into the skull of the second zombie with his bare hand.
Cursing in his head at having been surprised in that fashion, he retrieved the arrows and wiped them on his pants with only the slightest tremor in his hands. He could hear voices rising and falling inside the structure and wanted to curse aloud at their choosing to carry out their drama in a fucking hot zone.
Rolling his eyes at the lot of them, he replaced the bolt in the quiver and reloaded quickly to continue his circuit around the church. When he rounded the corner to return to the entrance in front, the street was decidedly less empty than he'd left it.
Seeing no reason to try avoiding detection now, he let his profanity fly and dashed up the steps into the building.
"There's no hope for any of us," Hershel was saying at the time of his entrance and Daryl considered shooting the ass.
"I agree if we stay here, but outside of that, speak for yourself, old man."
Daryl contemptuous snort drew all their eyes to him, Glenn and Rick both tensing with the instinctive knowledge of what had sent the hunter rushing in.
"How many?" Rick asked, pulling out the Python and checking the rounds in its chamber as he moved to the doors.
"I look like a Census taker to you?"
Heat, hunger and imminent doom would make anyone a bit testy.
Maggie began trying to pull her father out, but he pushed her off.
"I've made my peace. My time…our time on this Earth is clearly done. Let us be at peace with that."
"There's nothing peaceful about the way this happens! We have to go now," Maggie argued, firm, but with the eternal entreaty of a child to their parent.
Not about to allow all their lives to be lost in the fuss, but knowing the others wouldn't move without the man, Daryl quickly shifted his grip on the bow and darted across the floor until he slammed the stock against Hershel's head to knock the man unconscious. Maggie and he both moved to catch the slumping body and the girl's eyes promised retribution.
"Yeah," he cut her off when her mouth opened to tear into him for the violent action, "you can thank me later."
He gladly turned his half of the burden over to Glenn and moved to rush them all to the entrance. Rick's gaze met his with a worry that knotted Daryl gut and had him gritting his teeth against more curses.
The street was filling, but the horses were untouched and they had just enough space to make a run for it from the staggering herd. Not giving a damn about women's lib or hurt feelings, he shouldered Maggie aside to grab Hershel and drag the unconscious body down the steps to throw it up over the closest saddle with Glenn's help.
The girl didn't need a diagram drawn, pushing Daryl aside to climb quickly up behind her father and making sure he was situated securely. He was surprised she waited for Glenn to get on the other horse before taking off, antsy as she was all of a sudden to get gone.
As soon as the boy had his reins in hand, she slapped her palm to the horse's ass to send it bolting then slapped the reins sharply across the neck of her own mount to send it galloping after.
"Head east half a mile then cross the river. You can lose them in the water," she called out with a glance back to them and the zombies soon to be nipping at their heels.
They took off away from the gathering crowd, keeping her instructions in mind.
The way was clearer, but not exactly clear and by Daryl's count they had nine shots to keep the Walker's at a distance, his three arrows and the six bullets in Rick's Colt.
As he fired his first arrow to take out an ugly old schoolmarm type missing an eye and half her face, he hoped they still had nine lives left between the two of them.
I know, no Carol? No Caryl moments? Remember fangirls, this is Daryl's story. He'd gonna need his guts and gory. Plus, I've been wanting to do a bit more dialog for him and this scene suited me. :P