Entry #7

There were 5 Walkers that had wandered out of the woods and joined the 3 or 4 strays down the road, slowly but surely findin' their way to our car. Their growls were getting audible and we needed to decide whether to kill them or just leave. Daryl looked at me and I realized he seemed a lot more disappointed than he'd normally be. Or maybe he was just tired.

We gathered our stuff quickly and I saw him snatch up the pack of cigarettes to stuff them in an inside pocket of his vest. He opened the door and slid out, movin' aside and holding the door wider for me to follow. As soon as I stepped out, I unsheathed my knife and kept it ready in my hand.

It wasn't even close to noon yet but the humidity was already soaking our skin. The fresh morning air felt nice compared to the stuffy inside of the wrecked car, but somehow the sun still managed to make it feel a little worse. Daryl stopped and turned to me.

"Follow the road or head this way?" he asked, jerkin' a thumb in the direction of the woods that lay before us.

My head was still a little messy from the few moments before we'd gotten outta the car. I repeated his question silently to myself and blinked. I suddenly realized this wasn't the first road we'd crossed or the first path we'd strayed from. How far had we gone? How many miles had we blown through just runnin' blindly to safety?

The growls of Walkers echoed around me, but I didn't flinch. They were still a safe distance away and my mind was wrapped up tryin' to make sense of which direction we'd taken ourselves in.

Which way would Maggie be goin'? Rick and Carl? Michonne?

"You're the tracker," I answered.

He glanced behind me towards the Walkers, then over his shoulder at the road.

"Let's follow this, try to find a mile marker or somethin'," he concluded.

I exhaled in relief at his solution, glad that he seemed to be thinkin' like me for a change. He wanted to know where we were, too - figure out what the next move would be.

He turned and started walkin' along the edge of the road and away from the wreckage. I stepped and hesitated, the smell of the Walkers catching in the breeze and making me uneasy. I glanced back at them and then to him.

"We should take care of 'em," I called to him.

He stopped and turned back, assessing the steadily moving group of undead. "S'pose."

He pulled his crossbow from his back as he walked, loading it and taking aim while I fell into stride a few feet to the right of him. I set my focus on a smaller Walker that had a good distance away from the others and sped up my pace as I got closer. From the corner of my eye, I saw Daryl shoot a bolt through the forehead of the group's leading Walker, then step back to reload. I grabbed my Walker's shoulder – an older, more decayed woman in tattered bathrobes (maybe someone's grandmother..?) – and steadied her as she lurched forward with outstretched arms, driving the blade of my knife into the soft flesh of her exposed skull. She dropped and fell away from my clenched hand, and I quickly stepped back to give her body room to sprawl out before me.

It's scary how habitual this can get. It's like muscle memory after a while, when you wake up and do it all day and sleep with it still in the back of your head. I coulda told you every little detail about the first terrifying ten or so Walkers I'd had to fight off or put down, but now I can't remember more than a handful from each day. My head wasn't even all there as I put down the Walkers. They weren't a real threat and my knife slipped into them almost too easy. I was stuck on thoughts of findin' the others… and a little stuck on the backseat of that car. We jump so quick from human feelings to feeling nothing while we stay alive. What did Daryl do with it all? Did he turn it on and off like a switch? He has to. He never lets his emotions get in the way of his survival. That's why he's alive while so many others are long gone.

When we were done, 12 corpses lay in the middle of the road. There hadn't been that many to start, but they kept creeping up outta the woods, probably drawn by our smell and our little commotion. The kinda stuff that makes me wonder just how many wanderin' monsters are lost in the Georgia woods. Where were they all going?

Daryl and I were both breathing hard while we cleaned our weapons and put them away, him side-eyein' the woods for signs of any other threats and me still thinking about what we might find down the road. Hopefully a place to rest. To enjoy silence. Maybe to let him get the rest he'd missed out on the night before.

Plus I couldn't figure out what the hell he was thinkin' since we actually… kissed.

(That word looks so out-of-place here, but this is supposed to be my book about the good things, right?)

We trudged down the dirt road in silence, my footsteps echoing in my ears while I thought about what it could mean if we found a sign or mile marker. Surely they would head north, right? Wasn't that kind of always the plan? I feel like it was for some reason. I try to think like Rick but I can't imagine being a leader and makin' decisions like that. I'd almost rather let Daryl dictate our journey. Where do you even think to go when you already know the rest of the world is like this?

We'd walked a few miles when we came up on a disgusting scene. It was nearly noon at this point and the sun was high in the sky. I could feel the heat from the ground through the bottoms of my boots and we both had sweat rollin' down the sides of our faces. I'd held my knife ready in my hand for a while but I figured nothin' could really happen on the open road so I slipped it back into its sheath, noticing that the handle was slippery with the sweat from my palm – makin' me glad I hadn't had to use it in a rush or else it may have gone really badly. We'd been passing a bottle of water back and forth for the last few minutes and when we got close enough to make out what was ahead of us, he pushed the bottle into my hands and sped up his pace to walk ahead of me and inspect it first. I didn't try to catch up to him. I didn't see anything moving in whatever was left there and honestly, I was tired and sore. I couldn't get my legs to move much faster on my own.

He motioned for me that it was safe to approach once I was already right behind him. He didn't have to explain what had happened here – I could tell just by seeing it. 8 people were lined up, shot execution style while on their knees and left to rot with hands ziptied behind their backs. It was a robbery. Random clothes and useless items like photos and small stuffed animals lay scattered around 'em. I had hoped my vision was mistaken when I was farther away, but now I was assured that two of the bodies were kids… younger than 10, probably.

"What happened here?"

Daryl's rough voice cracked through my thoughts and I tore my eyes away from the bodies to meet his questioning gaze. "What?"

"I mean, use what I been teachin' ya. What happened here?"

I furrowed my brow for a second, feeling a little appalled and wantin' to be defiant, but I didn't. I knew he was just trying to make use of a senseless situation. I get that.

"Robbery," I stated, trying to sound confident, but I think he heard my voice crack.

"How d'you know?" he kept his eyes on me, waitin' for my answer.

I turned and motioned towards the tire tracks in the grass that lead out onto the road. "They had a vehicle. Somebody killed 'em, took what they wanted, and drove off with the truck."

"Truck?" he asked, crinkling the corners of his eyes and squinting against the high noon sun.

"I know the difference between truck and car tire tracks," I stated matter-of-factly.

He nodded and I think I saw a smile tuggin' on his lips but he turned his head away from me before I could be sure.

"Damn shame," he muttered with no smile evident in his voice, situating the crossbow and bag on his back and settin' off again. Neither of us brought up the dead kids lying in the grass a few feet away from where we'd been standing.

"Don'tcha wanna know which direction they're goin' in?" I piped up, falling into step behind him.

"Not really," he answered, pullin' the pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket and slipping one into his mouth. I'd almost forgotten he had them.

"Well, maybe we shouldn't go this way then," I said, my eyes following the tire tracks as far as I could see ahead of us.

"We ain't goin' the other way. 'Sides, nobody steals a truck like that just to stay drivin' 'round these damn boonies," he explained. "Looked like desperation."

"Or deviance," I countered.

He craned his head back over his shoulder and squinted his eyes to give me a look like "really?" and I shrugged meekly, "Ya never know anymore…"

"Once we find a mile marker, we'll head back towards the woods. Or if we find a fork 'fore that, we'll take the turn they didn't," he assured me, cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke.

I decided he was probably right so we kept walkin'. We strained our eyes to try to see farther ahead of us, hoping to make out the sight of a house or a source of water, or the shape of a sign somewhere along the side. But it seemed like Daryl was right – we really were out in the boonies. No houses, no real signs, nothin' but woods and grass and dirt road. It was weirdly silent, too, with only the singing of birds and the humming of cicadas coming from the trees. I got lost in the crunch of our boots in the dirt and the insistent heat beatin' down on my skin and through my clothes and the air hanging around me, damp and heavy and suffocating. I started regretting ever thinkin' it might've been getting closer to cold weather – I jinxed it by thinking that. We could only get so lucky to have a day with less humidity than heat. But that was probably two more months away. Not to mention, I noticed we'd almost finished the bottle of water we'd been passing back and forth, and I knew there were only 2 left. There were a couple of small sips left and I tipped one down the back of my desert-dry throat, then passed the bottle to Daryl, hoping he'd appreciate getting the last bit. But he tipped it into his mouth like it was nothin' and shoved the empty bottle into his bag. At least I had tried to savor my last sip…

"Gonna have to head into the woods soon, look for somethin' to eat. Doesn't look like we'll be findin' anythin' to eat out here anytime soon."

"What about findin' a sign?" I reminded him as we continued walking, slowly reaching the peak of a big hill.

"We can think about that after findin' dinner. We been walkin' for hours," he pointed out.

I glanced in the direction of the sun and realized he was right. And now that I thought about it, my stomach was feelin' awfully empty. How long ago had it been since we'd shared that can of food in the back of the car? The sun said it was getting pretty close to evening, but I couldn't be totally sure. Especially since I can't even figure out what exactly the seasons are doing – changin' slow or fast or not at all.

We walked until our shadows grew longer beside us. I kept my eyes peeled but nothin' peaked our interest. It seemed like nothin' but woods and empty road all around us. I didn't realize how far down the sun had gotten until a breeze tickled my face and fluttered my hair and actually sent tiny chills through my body. I hadn't been imagining it after all – it really was getting colder. At least when the sun wasn't beating down on us, anyway. I could feel the chill spreading out around us, like it was eatin' away at the humidity that tried to suffocate us.

We both must've spotted it at the same time because our pace slowed simultaneously. I squinted and tried to strain my eyes to make it out, but all I could see was a small, dark shape a ways down the road we were following. I glanced at Daryl and knew he saw it, too, because he was making the same squinty-eyed face trying to identify it. I realized we still hadn't ventured into the woods like he'd suggested, and now it was getting dangerously close to nightfall to risk leaving the safety of the open road. I hoped he had a plan, but if he didn't, I was already going through things in my own head, hopin' I could come up with a helpful idea.

"Looks like yer truck," he grumbled, our paces still slow and cautious as we continued to stare at the far-off shape.

I looked over at him in surprise and couldn't help but smirk a little. "So I was right."

He shrugged, and I thought I caught a smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he forced it away. "'Course. You can tell the difference between car and truck tire tracks, 'member?"

I rolled my eyes at the smugness in his voice as he repeated my own words to me. Our pace quickened a little. The shape hadn't moved since it had come into view, and if he was right and it was the truck belonging to the robber's, then maybe we'd get lucky and find it abandoned.

"You wanna check it out? We gotta find food," I reminded him, glancing around at the darkening woods surrounding us. The thought of entering them again made me uneasy after the bad experiences we'd just narrowly escaped. I knew I shouldn't, but the open road made me feel so much easier, even though it technically wasn't even as safe as the cover of the trees.

He sighed, sounding tired and hungry and a little annoyed. "Might as well. Doesn't look like whoever took it is doin' much with it. 'Sides, it's gettin' too dark to try to hunt anything now. Least we can do is find a safe spot to get some sleep."

I silently agreed and we continued walking. Even though we were both tired and hungry, we tried to walk fast enough to beat the sunset. The horizon was just turning that dark shade of orange when we finally came within a dozen yards of the truck – of course, he'd been right, and it was in fact the truck that had been stolen from the gruesome scene we came upon. He slowed down when we got closer and his steps were more cautious. His head was on a constant swivel, lookin' around in every direction and listening hard for any hints of other people, alive or dead. I followed his lead and kept my hand on my knife, ready to unsheathe and defend myself at any moment. But the only sounds we encountered were crickets and the few cicadas still humming in the trees, and the chilly breeze rustling leaves and branches all around us. I shivered involuntarily.

Once we'd examined the scene, it became pretty clear that somethin' had gone down in these robber's attempts to leave. It's anybody's guess where they were planning on going, but they got stopped pretty abruptly. The truck was a big, black Ford that could seat 5 or 6 people inside with a generous bed in the back that was stuffed full of garbage bags and boxes. They'd shut the vehicle off and it sat silently, but all the doors were open and there was a beeping sound coming from inside indicating that the doors were open and the keys were still in the ignition. Daryl rushed to the cab as soon as the sound reached his ears and yanked the keys out, silencing the truck. We were lucky it hadn't been loud enough to attract Walkers. We walked around the vehicle and examined the scene from every angle, still poised and ready to strike in case somethin' popped up. But the area seemed to be pretty deserted and quiet.

I don't like to admit it, but I was kinda happy by what we found. After seeing the group of people a few miles back shot and killed mercilessly – even the children – I had been secretly hoping for the worst outcome for whoever had committed such a disgusting act. I know it's wrong to wish for the worst in this world, especially when the worst is around us at all times, but there are so many evil people who are flourishing in this Hell On Earth, and it makes me sick to think they might actually be enjoyin' their lives while they bring pain and suffering down on innocent survivors. I mean, children? How cold can a person possibly be? But then again, that's a real stupid question, huh? You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now after seeing what's happened to every defenseless child I've come across. After what happened at the prison. I still can't help but wonder if that's what Daryl sees me as – another defenseless child that he doesn't want to see brutalized and gunned down or eaten alive like all the others. I suppose our moment in the wrecked car should assure me that that's definitely not what he thinks, but it hasn't completely convinced me.

The truck was spattered with blood, both fresh and bright red as well as old and dark black. There were a few Walkers put down by blades through their skulls lying in front of the truck, and one of the Walkers was sprawled across the hood, his bottom half shredded and embedded into the grill of the truck. It looked like the robbers had tried to drive their way through a group of Walkers but ended up getting more than they bargained for. The windshield was cracked and bloody, and there were a lot of blood spots on the interior of the cab along with an impaled corpse lying across the seat. A wide pool of deep, red blood and chunks of flesh, bone, and clothing lay in one spot off to the side, near the woods, and I wondered what had happened to the Walker who'd feasted on someone there. I hoped it had been put down soon after, because otherwise, it might still be nearby, fat and slow and still hungry for more flesh. But I didn't feel any sympathy for whoever had been the human feast.

"Jackpot," Daryl's voice chimed in and shook me from my thoughts and investigation. I looked to where he was and saw him hop up onto the tailgate of the truck, his crossbow thrown back over his shoulder in rest. He stepped carefully into the packed bed of the truck and started opening garbage bags and boxes, rifling through them. I kept looking around, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement around us. He started dumping the contents of all the bags and boxes into the bed, tossing the empty containers onto the ground. I heard cans rattling against the plastic lining of the bed, sounds softened by the cushioning of clothes and blankets. When I felt somewhat at ease by the lack of noise or movement around us, I decided to join him and hopped up into the bed as well, helping him sort through things. The first thing I noticed was a bunch of toys, mostly stuffed animals, and I immediately thought of the children with their hands behind their backs and bullet holes through the backs of their skulls. Then I thought of Judith and the kids we'd lost at the prison. It sent a pang of longing through me. I had to stop myself from shoving all the toys I found into my bag, knowing it would look stupid and pointless to Daryl.

"Looks like we could find some shit that fits us. There's food, too," he grunted, collecting cans and placing them inside his bag that he'd taken off his shoulder.

He must've noticed the chilly breeze, too, because I saw him snatch up a heavier flannel shirt and a thermal sweater. He was working on untangling a pair of longjohns from a very dirty pair of pantyhose when something caught my eye from the ground next to the truck. I leaned over the side and looked at the grass next to the road, noticing spots of blood that led into a trail heading into the woods. I hopped over the side and onto the ground and walked softly next to the line of blood stains. They were almost dried on the leaves beneath me and I noticed how they became spottier and farther between the closer I got to the tree line. I stopped before the shadows engulfed me, squinting into the darkness of the trees and trying to see if I could make out any movement or out-of-place shadows. But everything was still and mostly silent.

I turned back towards Daryl and the truck and that's when the metal lyin' in the grass caught my eye, pushing the thought of whose blood trail that was from my mind. The sun was lowering quicker than ever and with the dusky light I still had, I could see a road sign had been knocked down by the truck and was on the ground, covered in blood with a decapitated Walker corpse lying on top of it. I stepped over quickly and quietly and nudged the body aside with the tip of my boot, uncovering the bold, black letters on the sign. It was a mile marker.

"Daryl!" I let out in excitement, spinning around to see him look up and over at me in surprise. He relaxed when he saw my smile and stepped down out of the truck bed to join me.

He eyed the sign below us and smirked. "Well, there ya go."

I was ecstatic to finally have found somethin' we'd actually wanted to find. Now we had an idea of where we were, and I could think about where to go. Before I could say anything, though, he thrust his hand out in front of me, a gray piece of clothing clenched in his fist. I took it gently and held it up to inspect. He'd found me a heavy, gray cardigan to wear over my polo shirt. I couldn't hold back my grin.

"Thank you," I said, looking into his tired, blue eyes. I think I might've seen them light up just a bit, and he smiled for a second before he turned away and looked back at the truck in deliberation.

"Gotta get somewhere safe to sleep for the night. Found some cans of food, too, so we can eat," he grunted, looking back and forth from the truck to the woods next to us.

"Sleep in the truck?" I tried to guess what he was planning.

He looked at me and nodded. "Let's see if it still runs, try to get under some cover."

I stood next to the door while he sat in the driver's seat of the big Ford and tried turning it on with the keys that had been left (after we pushed the impaled body out of the cab through the passenger's side door, of course). I heard the engine turn over but it was feeble and weak and didn't last nearly long enough for us to have any hope of getting it to run. If it had any gas, it was probably messed up by the crash with the sign and the Walkers.

Daryl sighed, disappointed. "Might see if I can find the problem tomorrow. Too dark now, though. Help me push it into the trees far enough so we can't be seen from the road."

I nodded in agreement and thought about what could happen if some unpleasant people drove by while we slept and decided our truck looked worth taking, as well as our supplies. I guess we both preferredfightin' the possible Walkers in the woods, under the cover of darkness and plants.

It took all our remaining strength to push the huge truck across the grass, move the bodies out of the way and into the nearby trees, and finally get the vehicle far enough between the trees to be hard to see from the road at night. We were both covered in sweat again and breathing heavy when we finally stopped, and I was silently longing for what food he might've found. We climbed into the darkened cab with our weapons and bags around us and settled in to rest. I was happy to see him pull out a jar of peanut butter from his bag, as well as a couple of cans of beans and a fresh bottle of water. We were so ravenous that we didn't even bother with forks this time – as soon as he got the cans open, we dove in with our hands and shared the jar of peanut butter between us. The breeze kept pickin' up and blowing into the open window on the passenger side, drying the last of the sweat from our hair and necks and making me weirdly tired and satisfied at the same time. Or maybe it was the filling meal in my aching stomach.

I was so relaxed and relieved to feel comfortable again, if even for a short while, that I offered to take first watch after we ate, so Daryl could finally catch up on his rest. He was beginning to look dead on his feet, and I noticed how droopy his eyes got once we'd finished eating. Neither of us said much, being so drained, but I still felt wide awake.

Right before he slipped into the backseat of the cab to lie down and stretch out, Daryl turned to me and I couldn't figure out what the look on his face meant. It didn't help that the cab was mostly dark now, and he was shrouded by shadows. But before I realized what he was doin', he leaned in and gave me a soft peck on the cheek with his chapped lips and then turned away and climbed into the back, not sayin' another word. I sat still for a moment, a little stunned.

Even if he'd been lookin' at me, it was too dark for him to see the big smile on my face when I turned back around to keep watch outside of the truck.

-E.G.


A/N: My deepest apologies for the super long hiatus. I've had a very rough 2 years - a half-assed suicide attempt, realizing I was in a very emotionally and mentally abusive relationship, and trying to establish my own independence in a city where I have very few friends. But here I am, better and stronger for it all, and finally in an actual healthy relationship, AND enjoying the things I once used to that I had lost interest in over the last 2 years. It's so nice to actually enjoy reading and writing and playing video games again. Anyway, I promise I'm working diligently on completing this story, and I've also already begun writing a completely new AU that I already have 10,000~ words for. I hope this update is up to par. If not, my apologies, just give me some time to get really back into the flow and find my inspiration. It's coming back slowly! If you're still reading, I'd just like to thank you deeply for your time and interest and huge thanks to everyone who's continued reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing over the last 2 years. Your words have meant and always will mean more to me than you guys could know. :) P.S: I've also been posting a lot on Tumblr (im-immortal), including a few fun blurbs for AU's I thought of!