Chapter 7

When Daryl strode into the camp the first thing he could hear was arguing. Rick was stood outside their tent with the major who had gone red in the face. Hovering around them were the rest of the group and a few of the soldiers, the sergeant from the previous day included. The soldiers were watching as though they were watching someone take an uncomfortable dressing down but the group of survivors looked angry, and terrified.

Rick was combing a hand through his hair roughly, a telltale sign that his nerves were fraying. "But you can't…" he was shouting. "My wife…"

Daryl wasn't sure how long this had been going on for but clearly long enough for Rick to have lost any ability to construct coherent sentences.

"Hey," Daryl barked abruptly, having all eyes turn on him. It made him instantly uncomfortable but he rolled with it. "You gonna bring ev'ry walker for a country mile come knockin' you keep shoutin' like that." He slung his fresh killed deer off his shoulders into the dirt. It wasn't the biggest deer ever but it was about as big as he could carry and had been really heavy. Blood had dripped from the bolt in his neck and soaked a trail down his shoulder and sleeve.

His audience looked down at the offering and then back up at him. "The major wants us out," Rick said, explaining his exasperation with his hand gestures.

"We do not have the resources to keep you," the major said, Daryl could tell it was not the first time he'd said it this morning either. "I have kept you and fed you one night, I cannot do more."

"Well now I've fed you," said Daryl kicking lightly at the deer at his feet. "So on that we are even."

"Please," Rick begged, he was quieter now, the interruption having brought everything down to a more appropriate volume. "We can be of use, we can use weapons, stand guard, go on supply runs, Daryl here can hunt…"

It didn't seem to make a dent in the major's countenance but then a soldier behind Daryl spoke up. "Sir, if I may," he said timidly, clearly unwilling to get caught up in this. "I have been out with Daryl this morning on his hunt. He's a good tracker."

"Wait, what? You need a tracker? Daryl is an excellent tracker. The best I've ever met." Rick latched onto this.

Daryl's eyes narrowed. This didn't feel right. To have use of a hunter was one thing, but then they'd come out and say that. To need his tracking skills specifically was something else. He doubted they were chasing after little lost girls.

The sergeant stepped forward to join the major then and leaned in to him. "He could give us the advantage we've been looking for. I think we should take the opportunity that has been given to us."

"What do you say Daryl? Will you lend us your skills?"

Daryl frowned. This was weird, being the centre of attention, everyone's eyes on him. He was about to say no, tell them that they'd take their chances but Carol caught his gaze. Her body looked exhausted and her eyes were pleading with him. They all were, Rick looked ready to drop down on his knees and beg, the others watched with an uncertain fear, unsure and unhappy to have their fate in Daryl's hands.

"If I stay to track for you, the whole group stays. You keep them warm and fed and safe and I'll see if I can find what you are looking for," he said in the end. The group let out a collective sigh and Daryl realised bitterly that they'd all been thinking that he would save himself and leave them to get tossed out.

The major looked to be mulling it over. Daryl figured it for a badly put together bluff and wasn't going to fall for it. "Fine," he said. "I don't give a shit, you all know I don't want to be here, with little what's-his-face shadowing my every move," he said shoving a pointed finger in the direction of the soldier who had seen it necessary to baby-sit him on his hunt that morning. "No skin off my nose." He bent back down to lift the deer back up. He had visions of slinging the dead beast back onto his back and striding off although he knew that the thing had been heavy and he'd needed help to get it on his back the first time. He was hoping that a decision would be made before he made a fool of himself struggling with it.

Thankfully just as he was about to attempt to haul it up the major spoke. "Fine."

Daryl stood, hiding his relief. "Good, now what do you need tracked?"

"I would rather we discussed that in private." He gestured to the command tent.

Daryl nearly said no but figured it was better to concede this one, after all he'd just won the big battle. "Rick comes with me," he said.

"Fair enough." The major strode off to the command tent, Sergeant Adewale hot on his heels.

"Thank you," Rick said in a lowered voice as the two survivors followed.

Daryl gave a curt nod. He wasn't sure if Rick should be thanking him just yet, he still didn't feel right about his place and he had a horrible feeling he was about to find out why. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Carol, Maggie and Glenn had gone for the deer, presumably hoping to gut and prepare it in an attempt to show their usefulness to the camp of soldiers.

The sergeant held the tent flap open for them as they followed Major Sanders in. The tent was small, held a table and a pair of chairs, one on either side of it. Draped over the table was a large laminated ordnance survey map which Daryl recognised immediately as North-West Georgia. There were markings on the map in red pen, lines drawn on it, bits crossed out, towns with x's drawn over them. Daryl was about to lament the mess they'd made of it before he realised the pen was the dry-wipe kind so could be gotten rid of if necessary.

The major sat in the far chair, the sergeant stood at ease just inside the door. Daryl reckoned it was bad form to sit on the desk of an army major so that's exactly what he did, perching himself on the corner so he could pour over the map. It left Rick the remaining chair.

Major Sanders bristled at the insubordination but let it slide. Daryl gave Rick a wry grin, knowing that he was winding him up the wrong way. Rick said nothing but Daryl could tell the ex-lawman probably thought he was pushing his luck.

"So who or what do you need tracking?" Rick asked, glancing at the map, and finding where the camp was marked on it, just on the tree line between woodland and farmland.

"We have been looking for someone for some time. We've tracked them to this area but they've gone to ground in these forests. We need to find them, the fate of the world could be at stake."

"How do you mean?" Rick asked.

"We believe this person holds the cure."

"The cure?" Rick asked astonished, "There's a cure to the virus?"

"What I am about to tell you next is likely to shock you. It's why I didn't want to explain this in front of your group… we are all infected."

"We know," Rick said. "We went to the CDC in the summer. There was a scientist there, Edwin Jenner. He said that we all had the virus lying dormant in us."

"The CDC burnt to the ground months ago," the major said, interested.

"We know, the generators ran out of fuel. It self-destructed to prevent anything escaping. We barely got out. One of us decided it would be better to stay," he said forlornly of Jacqui. They'd never even said goodbye to her, as soon as they'd left the CDC the walkers had attacked and they'd lost Sophia and then Carl had been shot. As harsh as it sounded the woman had been forgotten for more pressing issues. Daryl wasn't one for saying goodbye, what was gone was gone but he always felt a little angry for that, for the way Dale had pleaded with Andrea to keep fighting, had told her how much she meant to him, no one had said that to Jacqui, no one had told her that her life meant anything, and so she'd just disappeared.

"And the scientist?"

"He'd been on his own for months, his wife had died of the virus and had been used as a test subject. He had lost hope and felt it best to choose his end."

"Did he tell you anything else?" Major Sanders asked in earnest. It was an odd tone, Daryl didn't trust it.

"Erm, like what?" Rick racked his brain to remember, it had all been a blur of panic and confusion. "He told us how it worked, how the fever takes over and kills off the body but that a part of the brain stays active."

"Did he say anything about a cure?" Sanders said somewhat impatiently.

"What? No, he didn't think there was one. He believed that no one else was left capable of creating one."

The major seemed to breath an almost imperceptible sigh of relief which seemed increasingly odd to Daryl.

"He was mistaken, there are a few left. And this person we want you to track is the answer."

"He's a scientist?" Rick asked.

"No, they're immune."

"What? How?"

"There were antibodies in the blood to fight the virus. We need them back so we can conduct more tests, using their blood to synthesise an antidote."

"How do you know they're immune?" Rick asked suddenly suspicious.

"They were bitten, but they didn't die. The fever took over but they made it through. We were tracking heartbeat, body temp, they were fitted with body trackers. These trackers were fitted with GPS but with the electricity out so are most of the tracking systems so the trackers aren't as accurate as they should be. The tracker is still active and moving but we lost them in the woods and can't get a good enough read."

"And that's why you need me?" Daryl said quietly taking all this information in.

"If you could find them, you could be the man who saves what's left of the world."

"Christ!" Rick put a hand over his mouth and looked to Daryl to see how he was taking it.

Sergeant Adewale laughed nervously in the background. "So no pressure," he joked.