Run Baby Run
3 Weeks Later...
Losing the farm was a real punch in the tits. Losing our people was like having an organ removed without anesthetic. Especially Sophia. I would never forget the sight of her small, battered, dead body shuffling out of the barn or the sound of Carol's anguished wails of sorrow.
I might not have lived there long and I hadn't known them well at the time, but even I knew we had something special. The people and the place. In my experience nothing good ever lasts, and unfortunately the same was true for the Greene farm. We'd been on the move constantly since then, living like nomads as Rick chased the mirage of safety. I wanted to believe there was somewhere out there we could make a life, but as days blurred into weeks I wasn't sure places like that existed anymore.
Surviving like this was less than ideal, but I lived this type of life before in the military, especially during deployments, but the others were unaccustomed to the anxiety, fear and exhaustion that stems from not knowing where your next meal would come from or where you would sleep that night. Those feelings spread like a cancer, slowly eating away at your will to continue from the inside out.
Sighing, I looked out the window in the backseat as Glenn drove down the winding back roads of Georgia. I couldn't believe after everything I ended up in this group. Well, if I was being honest I couldn't believe they accepted me. I was woman enough to admit I was a hot mess on my best day and a complete nightmare on my worst, but somehow I found a place here. Acceptance. It freaked me out on the daily.
For the first few days after I was officially released from the shed I contemplated leaving, skipping out in the middle of the night without even so much as a goodbye. It wasn't the group, the people, it was me, I knew that. I didn't play well with others, and I had been alone for so long my ineptitude at human interaction was constantly on display. Lori threatened a swear jar if I didn't find a way to stop cussing around Carl, I made Carol nervous with my blasé attitude towards everything, and T-Dog's taste in superhero's was just plain irrational.
So I went little nuts.
A couple of times.
I ran off in the dead of night only to be tracked down, in a depressing amount of time I might add, by Daryl. I swear the man had taken some kind of blood oath where I was concerned. He always knew where I was, what I was doing, and especially when I was feeling unease. It was the only way to explain his odd behavior.
The strangest part was every time he found me he simply scanned me for injuries, sat down beside me and never said a word. He didn't ask questions, never tried to pull the why out of me. I think it was because he already knew. Daryl understood me because he was just like me. He had been hurt, broken, and found a way to put himself back together. This was his way of doing the same for me. I didn't need saving, I just needed to be accepted for exactly who I was, and Daryl could give me that.
Rick didn't understand it. "I've seen you calm in the most intense situations, but when everything is OK, relatively speaking, you lose it." All I could do was shrug and go to timeout like a good girl. I never claimed to make sense. I basically ran on denial, sarcasm, and irrational thoughts.
The others took my running personally. It made me sick they felt it had something to do with them, but nothing was further from the truth. This group had changed everything. They changed me and it was terrifying. I hadn't known saving Daryl's life would alter the course of my own so drastically. That one act, saving his life at the expense of my own, was all it took to become one of them. Apparently acting firsts and thinking later was the price of admission for this ride.
Slowly people who were once enemies had become strangers with hesitant conversation filled with awkward silence. As time progressed the nameless faces morphed into fast friends. One day I woke up, looked at the bedraggled, exhausted group and realized with stark clarity they were so much more. They were family. A fucked up, dysfunctional, highly volatile family, but family nonetheless.
The realization was like a sucker punch to the gut. Having a group, a family was good, great even, but caring about people meant the inevitable hurt that came from losing them. There were perks to being alone in this world. I had to constantly remind myself when I felt the urge to bail that surviving was not living, and if I wasn't going to live then what was the point?
"So what's going on with you and Daryl?" Glenn asked, his eyes glancing at me in the rear-view mirror pulling me out of my own head.
Maggie instantly turned around in the front seat, hands thumping excitedly on the seat as she grinned like a total creeper.
I looked back and forth between them in confusion, "What do you mean what's going on with me a Netiryi?"
Glenn snorted in amusement, but Maggie just narrowed her eyes at me. It was like she was attempting to peer into my soul to drag the truth out whether I wanted to volunteer it or not. I swear that woman was part witch doctor.
"Don't play dumb Alex, it's clear as day when you two are around each other that there's tension," Maggie added, grinning even wider.
"Yeah there's tension. He's an unreasonable, antisocial, emotionally stunted redneck, that's bound to create tension." Glenn rolled his eyes as he and Maggie shared a knowing look. "You two need to get out more. I get that you are stupid happy, but that doesn't mean that everyone else is looking to ride the skin bus into tuna town."
Maggie cracked up laughing while Glenn blushed so hard I thought his head might explode.
"Glenn if you can't handle the talk of adult nap time you best not bring it up. Especially considering you, my friend, are a screamer," I winked at him.
Glenn's mouth hung open so wide I was surprised his jaw didn't dislodge. He sputtered and choked for a solid two minutes, the car swerving all over the road.
Maggie placed a comforting arm on his shoulder, gently squeezing, "It's OK honey, I like that you scream." I made a gagging noise and considered throwing myself out of the car right this second. I swear if they started going at it I was out no matter the tongue lashing I would get from Hershel later.
"Jealous?" Maggie laughed.
"Of Glenn getting to stick his meat pickle in your lady garden? Not even a little bit."
"Hey!" Glenn cried out in outrage.
Rolling my eyes I pinned him with a look, "You're a very pretty girl Glenn."
"Thank you," he harrumphed, finally righting the car on the correct side of the road.
Now that Glenn regained his ability to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide Maggie looked back to me. "You saying you have no feelings for him whatsoever?"
"Oh, I have feelings for him on the regular. I feel like smothering him with a pillow. I feel like skinning a squirrel and putting it in his sleeping bag. I'm a feeling machine when it comes to that man."
"You know, they say there's a thin line between love and hate," she sing-songed.
I scoffed, "Maggie, I love you like a sister, I really do, but there is no thin line between me and Oliver Queen. There a huge, big ass, football field sized line between us."
Truth was I didn't hate Daryl, not even close, but this conversation was about as comfortable as a gynecology visit, and that involved stirrups.
"Me think the lady doth protest too much," Glenn hummed.
"Listen here Pavarotti, you're imagining things. There's nothing going on between us. He's a...friend." That didn't seem to accurately describe our relationship, but it was the best I could come up with on short notice. "He probably just feels like he owes me or something from...before. You know that man's moral code is like the Illuminati."
Hard to pin down and shrouded in secrecy.
Glenn looked unconvinced. "All I'm saying is that for two people who have no interest in each other that man's eyes sure follow you like a hawk."
"Glenn, honey, that's called stalking, and no matter what the other girls say it's not a desirable trait," I shot back, resisting the urge to squirm in my seat. Was it getting hot in here?
"And yours always seem be searching for him too," Maggie pipped up, her lips pulled up in a smirk.
Damn that observant witch doctor. What I did wasn't stalking. It was intense research and location confirmation of a particular individual.
I had no answer for that so I just crossed my arms over my chest, looking out the window as I pouted like a mature adult. Maggie just laughed again as she turned around, reassuring Glenn that she loved his stalking tendencies.
Freaks.
Thankfully the convoy stopped outside a small town called Senoia soon after. Before the tires had even stopped rolling I was out of the car and striding towards the group who were already assembled around Rick as he peered down at a map on the hood of his car. I could hear Glenn and Maggie trailing behind me, giggling like little girls. I shook my head as I stopped, shifting my weight back-and-forth, hoping like hell that conversation didn't follow me out here. I'd hate to have to commit homicide so early in the day.
Rick turned around, eyeing the three of us curiously, "You guys alright? You were swerving all over the place for a second there."
I waited for Daryl to save the day with his Asian driving comments, but he remained silent. My eyes darted over to him and I found them already trained on me, and I tried to stamp down the blush I felt spreading across my face, Maggie and Glenn's comments from earlier still rolling around in my head. His eyes narrowed in response to my unease as he silently studied me like I was a book report due Monday. Being anywhere in the hunter's sites was a bad day for anything still moving, and I fought the urge to squirm.
I looked away, finding Rick and shrugging. "It's Glenn," I offered up as an excuse. Everyone nodded in agreement, turning back to Rick.
"Hey!" Glenn protested as I stuck my tongue out at him.
Rick rubbed his face with his hands and I wondered if he constantly felt like he as running an after school program. Trying to keep our group on task, focused, and alive was about as easy as herding cats.
"Alright listen up, there's a town up ahead that might have some supplies. Hershel said there's a house not too far away that has potential." I stood up straighter. The possibility of supplies and shelter was huge. "We aren't risking the group until we're sure what we're up against so we are going to set up in the woods for now while I send out some scouting parties."
Everyone nodded, moving in sync to get the cars off the road, unload supplies and set up a temporary camp. I stayed close to Rick. If he was sending out a scouting party I was getting picked for a team. Daryl, Maggie, Glenn and T-Dog remained behind as well.
"Here's the plan," Rick began, "Maggie, Glenn and T-Dog, take one of the cars and head up to the house. Make sure you park a ways back and make your way in on foot. Hershel said the property belonged to a couple he knew that passed a ways back, and as far as he knew their children never kept it up. There's a well on the property and maybe a generator so if we can clear any walkers and create a safe perimeter it could be a real win for us."
I agreed with that 100%.
Maggie, Glenna and T-Dog nodded their heads already moving to gather their supplies. I smiled briefly at them as Maggie gave me a quick hug before leaving. Those idiots better come back in one piece or I'd kill them myself.
Rick turned to Daryl and I, "I want you two to scope out the town. If it's overrun with walkers I don't want the group going near it, but if we are planning to stay in the area we are going to need supplies and fast."
Daryl grunted in agreement, taking a slow drag of his cigarette as he studied the map. While the two men continued to work out the minutia of the plan I zoned out. I wasn't really a planner. It required too much energy. Besides, those two could talk till they were blue in the face, the second we walked into that town the shit would most definitely hit the fan.
"Were ya even listenin'?" Daryl questioned, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stomping on it as Rick went to check on the others progress.
"Sure."
"What'd he say?"
I waved him off, moving back towards Maggie's car to get my pack and weapons. "The usual, find shit, kill walkers, don't die."
"Lil' more to it than that Red." Not really. Besides, those two talked so much I sometimes fantasized they had mute buttons. I couldn't help it if my survival instincts kicked in when they really got going. "Get yur shit, meet ya at my bike."
"Sure thing Satan," I mocked, throwing him a sloppy salute.
He grunted, again, but it sounded an awful lot like "pain in my ass". I was practically fluent in grunting now. According to Rosetta Stone as soon as I started dreaming in the language I'd be golden.
Grabbing my pack out of the backseat I strapped it on before double and triple checking my knives and weapon. Using a gun was a last resort, but if things got hairy I would light that town up like the Fourth of July if need be. Walking towards Daryl I smirked remembering how awkward something as simple as getting on his bike had been only a few weeks ago. When the two of us were first been partnered together this situation was about as uncertain as your first middle school dance.
Where did you put your hands?
Was it OK to lay your head on their shoulder?
Could you really get pregnant if a boy stuck their tongue in your mouth?
This little waltz took roughly 20 to 25 minutes to achieve, and resembled two drunken people playing Twister. The first time I wrapped my arms around his waist he jumped about a foot in the air, knocked me off the bike, and barely caught said bike before it tumbled to the ground on top of me. Not our finest moment.
Ambling over to Daryl I swung my leg over the bike, wrapping my arms around his waist without a second thought. The movements like second nature after all this time. I decided to ignore how my body tingled with satisfaction as my I molded myself against him, instantly feeling lighter, better, safer.
Yeah, I needed to figure that out like I needed an STD.
About a half mile outside the town Daryl stopped the bike and walked it into the woods hiding it from view of anyone who might pass by on the road. We walked in silence as I trailed behind him, his body alert, eyes scanning constantly. I swear the man was part Wolverine with his hearing, but it had gotten us out of some pretty tight spots so I wasn't complaining. When he crouched down on the outskirts of the town I followed suit, creeping up slowly beside him. I saw only the occasional walker scattered in the streets which was the good news. The bad news was we had no direct line of site into the town square.
"Well, we better get this show on the road," I whispered, cinching down the straps on my pack and pulling out two knives.
I spun the one in my left hand around, a nervous habit, as I waited for the closest walker to round the corner and fade away. Before I could bolt into the street a hand clamped down on my wrist.
I looked down at the hand then followed the arm to its owner, raising my eyebrows, "Is there something I can help you with?"
Daryl glared at me, dragging his tongue over his teeth.
"What are ya doin'? Ya got no idea how many of 'em is out there."
"Hence us being here. To scope out the sitch." He looked confused so I continued, "We aren't going to find anything out sitting here playing hide-and-seek. We need to go in there and bring the rain."
Nothing.
"You know, put the smack down on them?"
Silence.
"Open up a can of whoopass?"
Nada.
"You ain't got the sense God gave an ant." Como say what? If there was a library in this one light town I was going to see if it had a redneck dictionary I could borrow. "Hershel said there's a small clinic close by and a police station on the far end o'town."
He pulled a hand drawn map from his back pocket, pointing to the various locations he wanted to scope out. Was he serious?
"Easy there Indiana Jones," I said, glancing at the crudely drawn map, "Why don't we start by crossing the street then we can finalize the invasion details."
If looks could kill he would be dancing on my grave right now. In my opinion Daryl tended to overthink everything. In his opinion I relied too heavily on hoping the stars aligning to keep us breathing.
"We need a plan."
"I have a plan. It's called making shit happen."
"For once in yur life will ya listen Red?"
His voice had a hard edge and his eye started twitching so I nodded. More because I didn't want an arrow in the ass than because I wanted to follow his lead.
"Fine, you win, but no more ordering me around unless we're naked," I pointed at him as he reeled back, his face the picture of embarrassment for only a moment before turning to stone. Sex jokes made Daryl uncomfortable. It was so much fun. Grinning I continued, "I get it. We slowly, quietly, cautiously make our way to the clinic and see if they have any goodies."
He only grunted, big surprise, avoiding eye contact before making his way across the street and into a small alley. His body moved with practiced stealth, both powerful and graceful all at the same time. He really was something. I didn't regret letting him go first, his ass looked amazing even encased in those filthy jeans he refused to wash.
I followed behind him into the alley, unconsciously twirling the knife in my dominant hand, my body pumping with adrenaline. We slowly made our way between the two brick buildings which thankfully contained no windows. No need to ring the dinner bell just yet.
At the cross street Daryl paused, looking both ways before rushing onto the adjacent sidewalk, me close behind. He looked at me and I gave a slight nod, his hand banging on the clinic's glass doors. Then we waited. After another round of knocking and five more minutes of waiting Daryl deemed it safe to proceed. He pulled at the door, but it was locked so I fished my tools from my pocket, squatting down in front of the door while Daryl turned around to cover me. A few minutes later we were inside, weapons held high as we silently split up to search the building. No words were needed. He went right, I went left. It was nonverbal communication born out of countless runs together. I walked slowly down the aisle on the far left, my knives poised to strike if needed, opening and closing doors as I went. When I cleared the last door on my side I turned right, meeting Daryl in the center of the clinic, in front of the small pharmacy.
"Place looks pretty untouched," I noted.
Which was weird. Medicine was pretty high currency these days.
"Yeah."
"I'll get back there and see what's left. You got the list?" Daryl handed me Hershel's Christmas list and I got to work sorting through bottles.
While I ransacked the pharmacy Daryl walked between the aisle, grabbing anything of value and stuffing it into his pack. Once I was done I hopped over the counter, meeting Daryl near the front doors.
"Anythin' good?" he asked.
I smiled, "Jackpot, some antibiotics, few pain killers, a shit ton of over-the-counter stuff, sleeping pills, and a healthy supply of Zoloft."
"Zoloft?" he questioned. "Why'd ya get depression meds?"
Raising my eyebrows at him, "Well, aren't you a little Walter White." He scowled at me, moving forward to inspect my haul.
"Told ya, I never did that shit, but my brother always had pills and booze. You pick up stuff." He rifled through my bag, inspecting each label carefully before moving onto the next. I'm not sure what he was expecting to find in there. Maybe a trap door to another dimension? "Who'd ya get 'em for?"
When I didn't answer right away he stopped, looking at me expectantly. Great, now I was looking for a trap door in my backpack.
"Beth."
I was looking everywhere, but at the man in front of me.
"Ya can't drug people Red, it ain't right."
The disapproval in his voice made me want to take a gold star off my behavior chart if only to get back in his good graces, but I had to remember this was for the greater good. Plus, Maggie scared me more than Daryl.
"Maggie asked me to look for some," I said as an explanation. "She's struggled since the farm. This will help."
"She ain't that bad."
"You're right, apart from her overwhelming and debilitating depression she's adjusting well," I deadpanned. He pinned me with a cold look and I took an unconscious step back. "OK, I promise not to drug her."
I held up a three finger Boy Scout salute to seal my promise which seemed to appease him, and I smiled.
I wouldn't drug her, but Maggie sure as shit would.
We made our way towards the doors as I sifted through my pack, making a mental inventory of our haul, trying to calculate how long we could stretch it. Before I knew what was happening I was thrown in a nearby supply closet, Daryl following close behind. He shut the door quickly, plunging the room into darkness.
It took me a minute to figure out where I was and what was happening as my brain struggled to process our situation. I lifted my arms, stretching them out to survey the size of the closet. It was small, really small, just a glorified broom closet. My hands touched the cold concrete walls and I immediately retracted my arms, wrapping them around myself as I felt my control start to unravel. My heart felt like it might beat out of my chest at any moment. The blood rushing in my ears was deafening, and suddenly I was having a hard time breathing even though it was all I was doing at the moment. Daryl, who was practically standing on top of me, noticed the change instantly. I didn't need to look at his face to know the look he was sending me right now. Sweat dripped down my face, but I was so cold, my body shaking uncontrollably.
"What's wrong with ya?" he asked, setting his crossbow against the wall and using his hand to tip my chin up. I shook my head violently, trying to push past him towards the door, but his hands clamped down on my shoulders firmly locking me in place.
"Daryl..." Pant. "Can't..." Pant. "Get out..." Pant.
Even with the limited light in the room I could see his face scrunched up in confusion as he took in my rattled state.
"Please," I begged.
I was losing it, my breathing coming fast and shallow as my eyes darted around looking for an escape.
"Ya can't go out there. Streets packed full'o walkers right now. Gotta wait for 'em to pass."
Oh.
Hell.
No.
I'd take my chances with the walkers.
I pushed against him, but I might as well have been trying to relocate a brick wall for all the good it did me. He didn't move an inch and my eyes filled with tears I was unable to stop. That was all it took for Daryl to crush me to his chest, his massive arms wrapping around my much smaller frame. His hands were hesitant like he was unsure of what to do now. For an agonizing second we both just stood there frozen in our own panic before he started rubbing soothing circles on my back. I could feel his chest vibrating as he spoke, but I had no idea what he was saying. I couldn't hear over the pounding in my ears.
"I'm claustrophobic," I choked out. When he didn't answer I questioned whether I'd spoken out loud. "It means..."
"I know what it means," he interrupted.
The tears rolled down my cheeks as my mind filled with dread over being in the small box. I could feel the walls closing in on me, threatening to crush me, and I folded myself closer into Daryl's embrace, his arms tightening in response.
"Shhh, everythin's gonna be a'right Alex," he cooed, his voice barely a whisper like he was speaking to a spooked animal. "I'm right here with ya. Just listen to my voice."
And I did.
For the next 20 minutes Daryl's voice was my lifeline in an unforgiving sea of panic. I clung to him like a conjoined twin, his shirt balled in my clenched fists, my face buried in his chest, trying to forget where I was as deeply buried memories surged to the surface in waves. Sometimes he spoke, other times he just held me, rubbing my back in an effort to calm my anxiety. The beat of his heart lulled me into a hypnotic trance as I synced my breathing with his. It felt like years had passed when he finally pulled back, looking down at me with worried, blue eyes. I snuck a quick peak at him, but then squeezed my eyes shut, unable to stand the sight of this crushing prison.
"I'm gonna see if it's clear," he explained, not letting me go.
I nodded, but made no move to untangle myself from him. Slowly, with sympathy in his eyes, he pulled my fingers lose from his shirt, one finger at a time. I whimpered a little when he removed the final finger, and he gave my shoulders a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"Yur safe Alex. I ain't never gonna leave ya."
The sentence just hung in the air between us.
Somehow I didn't think he was only talking about right here, right now. The look on his face was intense and I felt myself nod, tears still slipping out of my eyes. His lips thinned as he looked at me, concern evident as he picked up his crossbow and turned slowly. I was forced to take a small step backwards the space was so tight. My back connected with the wall and my hands shot to my mouth in an effort to stifle a scream. It was all I could do to stay still and quiet.
Cracking the door open gradually he peered into the street. Whatever he saw was good enough for him to swing the door open wide. In an instant I was pushing past him into the store, putting a good 10 feet between me and the closet before my hands dropped to my knees. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I struggled to calm myself down.
You're not in the closet. He can't hurt you anymore. You're safe.
I almost snorted at the absurdity of the last thought because safe was the last thing I was. There was no safe anymore. Ironic how I felt better in a world filled with walkers than in a broom closet where I was forced to confront demons from my past. Demons that walked around and tried to eat you were far better than the ones that lurked in the dark recesses of your mind.
Daryl's footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor as he approached me with caution. Jesus, what I wouldn't give for a time machine right about now. I just lost my shit in front of Daryl Dixon. The one person on Earth guaranteed to stay calm, cool, and collected no matter the situation.
Maybe that was his superpower?
My mind was replaying the events of the closet in my head like a movie. They say it was only embarrassing if you cared what people thought, and sadly I cared a whole lot what the man standing in front me thought. No matter the front I put on. Standing up I tucked the strands of hair that had escaped my messy bun at the top of my head behind my ears, wiping my face with my hands, attempting to locate my self-respect before I looked at him. He was looking right at me, his expression unreadable.
"Sorry," I offered up lamely. "I don't know why that happens."
Lie. I knew exactly why it happened, but I'd volunteer to make out with a walker before I admitted that.
"Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."
My lips pressed into a thin line as I looked away from him, moving towards the door. I just wanted to scout out the rest of the town, hit up the police station, maybe pick up a grenade launcher or two, and go back to camp where I could hide for 30 to 40 days.
"Let's go."
I stepped back onto the sidewalk, Daryl close behind as we walked towards the police station. It was surrounded by a chain-link fence with barb wire lining the top. With no walkers in the street we rushed to the fence, rattling it for good measure. Within seconds four walkers came stumbling towards us, all wearing ruined police uniforms. Man, Senoia's finest had seen better days. I was ready for some action. Anything to put the broom closet behind me.
As soon as the first walker was in striking distance I plunged my knife through the opening directly into his head, Daryl doing the same with his hunting knife beside me. One by one they dropped like flies. Daryl shook the fence again for good measure, but when no more walkers converged on us I set to picking the padlock on the fence.
Once we were inside the parking lot we moved towards a side entrance. It was unlocked, which could have easily been super lucky or bad fucking news. Shrugging at Daryl I swung the door open, holding my knives so tight my knuckles hurt. He followed behind me, the sound of his quiet breathing helping to calm my anxiety. Oh my god, I would kill for a Xanax right about now.
We crept through the hallways, looking for anything useful as we went. I had just about given up hope of working off any of my tension when out of nowhere a walker came lunging at me from a doorway. I yelped in surprise, jumping back to avoid its outstretched hands.
"Duck," Daryl hissed.
I didn't need to be told twice. I crouched down at the same time the mechanical whirl of an arrow being let loose flew over my head. I heard a sickening crunch followed by the body falling to the floor. Standing up again we smiled slightly at each other, but as it turned out we would have to pat each other on the back later.
The noise drew a group of walkers out of the break room and at least ten instantly filled the hallways, pushing and shoving in an effort to get to us. We couldn't fight this many in such a tight space so I immediately turned, running forward as the hallway opened up into a waiting room, Daryl hot on my heels.
Twirling around I took up a fighting stance as I lunged forward, stabbing a walker who was uncomfortably close to Daryl. Immediately I ducked down, avoiding the outstretched arms of another as I pivoted to the side, plunging my knife into his head as I stood up. Pulling the knife out quickly I stepped around the bodies as another walker came at me from behind the front desk, its jaw chomping and salivating.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daryl holding one walker by its throat as he slammed his knife into the head of another. Without even thinking about it I let the knife in my left hand fly, the blade spinning with deadly precision right passed Daryl's face and into the walker's head he was trying fend off.
Turning back to the walker bearing down on me I tossed the knife from my right hand to my left hand, eyeing the walker for a beat. I feigned going right only to dance back left, the walker lunging to my right and almost falling. It was more than enough for me to hurl a knife at his head, taking him down with a precise head shot. Grabbing another knife from my belt I threw it at the last remaining walker in the hallway, the knife slamming into his skull to the hilt. Then the only sound was our labored breathing.
"Well, that was fun," I said panting as I made my way over to the retrieve my knives. Daryl nodded as he collected all his arrows. "We need to find the gun cage."
He pointed down a hallway and I followed behind him. We didn't encounter anymore walkers, but as he approached the gun cage Daryl shook it with frustration.
"Stand aside Hana." I fished out a key card I lifted off a dead walker in the lobby, swiping it on the electronic lock as the gate beeped before swinging open. Stepping inside the gun locker I rubbed my hands together with glee, "Come to mama."
"Ya got issues."
"Don't I know it."
We worked diligently to gather all ammunition, guns and supplies we could carry. What we couldn't stuff in our packs we carried out to an abandoned car in the parking lot, shoving the contents into the car then covering them with canvas and a shit ton of trash hoping anyone who might open it would bypass it. We had enough to stage a coup d'état in a small country at the moment, and hot damn if that wasn't exciting. Daryl was right, I had issues.
Walking to the driver's side door I leaned inside, popping the hood. Going around to the front I pulled the hood open, starring at the engine as I scratched my head in confusion.
"Whatcha doin'?" he asked, coming to stand beside me.
"We should disable the car just in case someone happens by before we can get back. If it doesn't start they're more likely to discard it."
He nodded in agreement. I blew out a breath, studying the engine with the same intensity I'd afford a Magic Mike cabaret show.
"Ya got no idea what yur lookin' at, do ya?" he laughed, resting his crossbow on his shoulder.
"Sure I do. I'm a regular grease monkey."
Truth was the only thing I was absolutely certain of at the moment was we were standing in front of a car.
"Go on then, do yur thing." Humming I perused the engine in vain. I grabbed onto a shiny, silver thing and pulled, but it didn't budge. "That's tha cylinder head," Daryl stated, a small smirk tugging at this lips.
"I know that."
What in the fuck was a cylinder head? It sounded like the name of my last vibrator. Next I tried yanking on a piece of rubber tubing, and succeeded in dislodging it from another shiny, silver thing.
"What exactly ya tryin' to do?"
The humor dancing in his blue eyes made them sparkle.
"Uh," I stammered, racking my brain for any car part I could think of, "The spark plugs! I'm going to take the spark plugs."
"Good idea."
I beamed at him and he waved at the engine, silently telling me to grab them. There was slim to no chance of that happening. Jimmy Hoffa could be hidden in this engine and I wouldn't know it. After a few minutes of reaching in, then pulling back, only to reach in again Daryl slapped my hand away, expertly grabbing something and yanking it off.
"See, spark plugs," I told him. "I was just about to grab that."
"Uh-huh."
Smiling at him I closed the trunk only to see his face pale, eyes focused on something over my shoulder. Closing my eyes I debated not looking. Maybe it would be like when you played hide-and-seek as a kid, if you couldn't see them they couldn't see you. Turning warily I looked behind me to see a herd of walkers barreling through the fence. The fence we'd left open. OK, that was enough toadying for today. I was done. We could try again tomorrow.
Without a word we both took off for the closest side street. Daryl's long legs carried him in front of me as I struggled to keep pace under the weight of our haul. Ahead of me he pulled down a rusty fire escape ladder on the side of the police station before turning, motioning for me to climb up. He didn't need to tell me twice. I could hear the herd moving closer, fighting to press their numbers into the small passage. It slowed them down significantly giving us both time to get the hell out of dodge.
It was like a scene straight out of 300...we'll funnel them through the hot gates where their numbers count for nothing!
Once we were on the catwalk, Daryl pulled up the ladder and we continued up another rickety ladder to the roof. I looked over the edge seeing the herd groaning and milling in the alley as they tried to locate their wayward lunch.
"Fuck, we've got to find a way to draw them away from here. They're surrounding our car full of guns and our way home," I whined. I almost stomped my foot too.
Daryl looked over the edge sighing. It could take a herd that size a week or more to venture away on their own and even then there was no guarantee they would. They could stake up a homestead in that parking lot for all we knew. I walked to the other side of the ledge peering down, a plan forming in my head. Oh man, he was going to hate this.
"I have an idea," I told him. He looked up, waiting. Here goes nothing. "We jump from this building to that one," I explained, pointing to the other building just in case he was confused. He blinked at me. Spot on impression of an owl. "I didn't say it was a good idea, but it would work. We jump, make a lot of noise to draw them away then jump again. Like hopscotch, but on buildings."
The blank look on his face told me he wasn't thrilled, but he wasn't yelling either so I figured he wasn't vetoing the idea.
"Red, ya only got one oar in the water."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I was genuinely confused. Talking to him was like hanging out with a Redneck Riddler. Shaking his head he approached the ledge, judging the distance between buildings. "Come on Carl Lewis, we can make it. It's like what, three feet?"
"Try 10, at least," he corrected.
"Same thing." We both backed away from the ledge, tightening our packets and stowing our weapons. "On three," I said and he nodded. "One, two..."
I took off, running as fast as I could, waiting until the last minute to jump. I heard a curse from behind me, Daryl's boots stomping on the roof. As I leapt off the roof and into the air. I was weightless for what felt like forever before landing with relative ease on the neighboring roof. Turning around I sighed in relief as Daryl cleared the jump by several feet.
This was easy.
This was fun.
I needed to get out more.
We both walked to the opposite ledge, banging, hollering and screaming at the herd like a puppy we were trying to train to come. Obediently they followed and we made the next jump. By the fourth roof we were making significant progress dragging the herd away from the police station.
"One more?" I asked.
"Yeah." I counted again, but this time Daryl was off and running before I even finished one.
"Hey!" I called out, determined to catch up.
No way he was evening the score and getting there first, but it was useless, he was on the fourth roof grinning at me before I even got to the ledge.
Just before I could jump something lunged for me out of nowhere. I felt it snag the straps on my pack as I jumped for the adjacent building. The action wasn't enough to stop me, but it was more than enough to slow me down, propelling me forward out of control. I knew immediately I didn't have enough momentum to clear the gap, and I braced for the impact as the top half of my body slammed into the edge of the roof, knocking the wind out my lungs as I started slipping backwards. I tried to dig my fingernails into the asphalt, my nails breaking as I frantically looked around for anything to grab onto.
An exposed nail sliced open my palm and I winced as my feet scrambled against the brick wall. Daryl called my name just as I came to a momentary halt, my fingers gripping the ledge, my delicate hold slipping under my weight, my bloody hands, and pure terror. I could hear the herd groaning below as I dangled there like fresh meat.
First my pinkies slipped off, followed by my ring fingers as I hysterically called for Daryl. The blood from my hand made the ledge impossibly slick, and I couldn't hold on. I watched in horror as my last fingers slipped off the roof. For one awful moment I was suspended in the air, neither falling nor hanging, my stomach forced into my throat at the sensation. A terrified scream shot out of my lungs as I felt myself start to descend, but before I could a large hand seized my arm, stopping my fall. Looking up I saw Daryl flat on his stomach, hanging halfway off the roof, my hand firmly locked in his as I dangled precariously.
"I gotcha." His tone left no room for argument, his confidence unwavering. "Gimme yur other hand."
He reached down with his hand and I grabbed it, holding on for dear life as blood oozed between our fingers. I saw his muscles straining under my weight. His face was a mask of pure determination. There was only one thing I was sure of at the moment, either I was getting on that roof or Daryl and I were falling down together. There simply weren't any other options.
He hauled me up, first sitting up on his knees then to his feet as he pulled one last time, sending me spiraling onto the roof with enough force to propel me directly into his body. My hands braced against his broad chest as his hands locked around my hips both of us wheezing, our eyes still wide. I thought I saw something like relief flit across his features, but it was gone so fast I wasn't sure it was ever there. He released me first so I stepped back, wiping the sweat from my face as I inspected my hand.
"That did not go as planned," I remarked, looking back at the roof, trying to see what has caused my near death experience. There was nothing there.
"Walker," he explained, eyes diverted.
"Where is it now?" He pointed off the side of the roof and I looked down.
There was a giant puddle of...something on the street below. It was like the walker hit the ground and just exploded.
"Gross," I said, backing away from the ledge.
Daryl stalked off, checking every nook and cranny of the roof until he was satisfied we were alone. I slide down the wall, my feet out in front of me as I fished two water bottles from my pack, tossing him one. He sat down beside me, crossbow across his lap as he chugged half the water in one gulp. I pulled out a small first aid kit, splashing the fairly shallow cut with alcohol before wrapping it haphazardly in a bandage.
"Thank you," I murmured, returning the first aid kit to my pack.
His eyes shot to mine in confusion. I waved my hand towards the edge of the roof, unable to find the words to properly express my gratitude. He squinted at me, shaking his head.
"Ain't gotta thank me for that."
"I do," I objected. "You saved my life and at the very least that deserves a fruit basket, probably an Edible Arrangement, and not the crappy one either. You deserve the kind with chocolate dipped fruit, but the best I can do is a thank you."
I rambled when I was nervous, and right now I was a nervous as a whore in church. All I got in response was a grunt. Which could mean either, "you're welcome" or "fuck off". It was hard to tell with Daryl.
"And thank you for earlier...in the clinic."
Jesus, thanking people was a chore.
He didn't look at me as he fiddled with the top of his water bottle, flipping it around and around absently in his hand. Oh god, this was awful. I swear my life these days was relegated to a series of awkward and near death moments separated by whatever snacks Glenn and I could scavenge.
"We all got demons, ain't no sense in tryin' to hide 'em," he said softly, still not making eye contact. "Ya ain't never gotta hide nothin' from me."
Swallowing thickly my eyes slide to him, his own already focused on me. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting his face in shadows making his normally hard to read face indecipherable. With just the two of us up here with the sun setting it was easy to forget where we were, what the world was now. It always surprised me how things could change so quickly. When I first met Daryl I had to fight the urge to strangle him in his sleep, and now I realized I would do anything to keep him safe. To keep him close. Somewhere along this twisted road he became someone I trusted. Someone I counted on. He was the only one who saw through all my bullshit to the real me. He was probably my best friend in this fucked up world.
So damn strange.
I mean, friendship in general was always a bizarre concept to me. You basically picked out a person like you were shopping for clothes, decided if they fit, and then ran around doing shit with them. My sister said that philosophy was why I never had many friends growing up. I smiled at him shyly, ducking my head a moment later, twirling the ends of my ponytail in my hand absently.
"We're friends, right Daryl?" I asked out of nowhere. His head turned sharply towards me. I could just imagine the look of absolute puzzlement on his face. I continued before I lost the nerve, "I mean, friendship is just finding other people who are your kind of crazy."
He considered me for a moment before asking, "And ya think I'm yur kinda crazy?"
"Well, you're not exactly on my level just yet, but you've got potential," I joked and he snorted.
I rested my head on his shoulder as I watched the sunset, resigned to waiting until dark before we cold hopscotch our way out of this mess. Daryl relaxed next to me, his head resting against the wall as we settled in to wait. The herd congregated below wasn't going anywhere and we couldn't risk drawing them back to the police station. Better to wait until night where we would be harder to see. I was suddenly very happy I stole Glenn's candy stash before we left today. Nothing said dinner like a half-eaten Twix, melted Sour Patch Kids and stale Nerds.
As the last rays of the sun set behind the horizon, Daryl checked in on the walkie talkie with Rick, letting him know we were safe, but delayed. I kept my head on his shoulder and he made no attempt to move me. It was nice. I never meant to let my guard down around this man, but it happened all the same. All it took was his signature half smirk, half scowl, a weak threat about shooting me with an arrow and that was it. I was hooked.
I put the function in dysfunction.
A while later, after we crushed the candy and shared a can of cold beans Daryl told me to sleep. I argued we didn't need a watch unless walkers suddenly joined Cirque du Soleil, but he dismissed me without a word, standing up to survey the rooftop which was just as empty as the last time he checked. After making him promise, twice, that he'd wake me for my own watch (which I planned to sleep through) I settled onto the roof, using my pack as a pillow.
It may still technically be summer in Georgia, but damn if I wasn't cold at night, exposed to the elements. Shivering, I huddled into a ball, my hands shoved between my legs as I tried to get comfortable and warm. Just when I was about to give up I felt a leather vest being laid over the top of me. I sighed contently at its warmth, snuggling into it, breathing the scent in deeply like a total loser.
"Ya 'wake?" he asked softly.
"Uh-huh."
He hovered over me, tucking his vest under my chin before standing.
"Yur right 'bout what ya said b'fore." He hesitated, and I almost opened my eyes and rolled over to look at him, but something told me if I did he wouldn't continue. "Yur my kinda crazy."
I grinned like a fool into his vest. "Goodnight Daryl."
"G'night Alex."
