Chapter 7
Beth ran as fast as her ankle would allow. The black backpack she had grabbed on her way out, slapped against her back. She couldn't help but think of Daryl. Was he able to fight off the walkers and get out of the house? Was he still alive? She turned, looking back at the house, hoping to get a glimpse of him running towards her. He was nowhere to be seen. When she turned back around, she saw something flying towards her. She fell immediately, her world going black.
6 Days Later
144 hours. 8,640 minutes. That's how long she had been gone. Daryl had never been good at math, but he hadn't stopped counting from the moment she had disappeared.
The night she was taken, he had chased after the car until it was out of sight. He had run all night until the sun came up and his lungs were bursting, needing air. Even after the car disappeared, he had followed the tire tracks for as long as he could, but as the car turned onto a paved road, the tracks vanished. Daryl hadn't stopped, though. He had continued to run, blindly chasing the car that he knew had Beth.
After running through most of the next day, he had made camp in the woods, barely sleeping and not eating much of anything. That's how it went. He ran all day and tried to camp at night, but it was barely survival. It was as if sleeping and eating didn't matter. He had killed the walkers he had come across, but thankfully hadn't found more than one or two at a time. He had managed to mostly stay clear of any danger, but that didn't help. He almost wished danger would find him and end his misery.
On the sixth day, he continued to run, although he didn't quite know where he was going or what he was running to. She was gone and there was no one way to find her. The memory of that last night together, of him holding her in his arms, flooded back to him. She thought he had been sleeping when she had woken up and placed a light kiss on his arm, but he wasn't sleeping. He felt her lips pressed against his skin. He wondered what her lips would feel like pressed against his own lips. He couldn't get her out of his mind.
By midday, after running for most of the morning, Daryl felt his knees giving way and he slowed to a walk. But he knew he couldn't stop. He started again into a jog, but it only lasted a few moments until his body protested. He stopped altogether, hunching over and resting his hands on his knees. After taking a breath, he began to walk. Minutes later, tired and weary, and drenched in sweat, Daryl stopped completely. He looked around. He was completely alone.
When his body couldn't take it any longer, he dropped his crossbow, letting it fall to the ground. His legs gave way and he lowered himself to the ground, breathing heavily. He had failed her. He knew that. She was gone and he had failed to find her. He felt the tears coming. He never cried, but at that moment he desperately wanted to.
He sat in the middle of the road, just letting time pass him by. He knew he should seek shelter. He was too vulnerable sitting in the middle of the road, but he didn't move. He didn't care what happened to him. She was gone. He was alone.
After a few minutes, he heard a noise from the distance. It was footsteps. He realized he wasn't alone anymore, but he didn't even move. He could tell they weren't walker footsteps just from the sound, but that didn't mean he was safe. He had to admit he would probably have preferred a walker. The footsteps grew louder, but Daryl didn't even bother to look up. Finally, he saw the boots belonging to a man standing just feet in front of him.
"Well, lookie here," the man said.
Daryl listened as five other distinct footsteps surrounded him. He still didn't move. He felt as if he had no reason to live anymore, but to give up would mean betraying the promise he and Beth had made to each other.
The stranger took a step closer to Daryl and he finally decided to react. Daryl swung out, making contact with the man's face. He grabbed his crossbow and leapt to his feet, pointing the arrows at the stranger. The other men reacted immediately, all training their weapons on Daryl.
Daryl stood over the stranger, pointing his crossbow down at him. He knew he would be dead within seconds by the hands of the other men, but that didn't stop him. He wanted revenge for whoever took Beth and the man on the ground seemed like just the right person to take it out on.
"Damn it, hold up!" The man yelled.
"I'm claiming the vest," another man said from behind Daryl. "I like them wings."
"Hold up," the man on the ground stated. Daryl knew immediately he was the man in charge. He wiped at the blood on his nose and laughed. Daryl continued to stare at him, pointing his weapon straight at his head.
"A bow man," the man observed as he got to his feet. "I respect that. See a man with a rifle, he could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day, but a bowman's a bowman through and through. What you got there? 150 pound draw weight? I'll be donkey licked if that don't fire at least three hundred feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that. Course I'd want one with a bit more ammo."
"Get yourself in some trouble, partner?" The man asked from behind him.
"You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop you several times over. That what you want? Come on, why be stupid? Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?"
Daryl knew there was no way good way out of the situation. He was stuck. Either shoot and be killed or lower his weapon and hope for the best.
"Name's Joe," the man said.
Making his choice, Daryl lowered his weapon. "Daryl," he stated.
The other men lowered their weapons. He looked around, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He knew instinctually that the men were no good, but he also knew no one could survive alone.
"Welcome to the group, Daryl," Joe said. "Let's go."
They started walking off. Daryl stood for a moment, looking back down the road where he thought the car might have gone. He shook his head.
"Forgive me, Beth," he whispered before he followed the group down the road.
Daryl was taking his time. Making sure his aim was correct. He was starving, having not eaten any real food aside from a few berries in days. He had been able to ignore his hunger as his thoughts were mostly occupied by Beth. He had thought of her the whole night. He had tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. Not only did he not feel completely comfortable with the group who had found him, but he also couldn't get her out of his mind. He wondered if she was lying somewhere hurt or if she had turned into a walker.
Tracking and hunting seemed to be the only thing that kept Daryl's mind from Beth at all. As he went to pull the trigger, an arrow sailed by him. Both of the arrows hit the rabbit at the same time. Daryl looked back and saw Len standing behind him.
"What the hell you doin'?" He asked.
"Catching me some breakfast."
"That's mine," Daryl stated, walking towards his kill.
"My arrow's the one that hit first. The cottontail belongs to me."
Daryl knelt down beside the fallen rabbit and pulled the arrows out of it.
"Been out here since before the sun came up."
Daryl threw the arrow that came from Len's bow to the ground. He picked up the rabbit by its feet.
"You see, the rules of the hunt don't mean jack out here. Now that rabbit you're holding is claimed, boy. Claimed whether you like it or not. So if I was you, I'd hand it over. Now. Before you get to wishin' you ain't ever got out of bed this morning." As Len spoke, Daryl walked towards him, keeping hold of the rabbit. He was not about to back down.
"It' ain't yours."
"Y'know, I bet there's a bitch. Got you all messed up. Hm? Am I right?" Daryl glared at him, wanting to shout at him that he was wrong. He was being disrespectful to Beth and Daryl didn't like it. Deciding to choose his battles, though, Daryl began to walk away. "Got you walking around here like a dead man just lost himself a piece of tail. Must have been a good one." Daryl stopped. Len had crossed a line. "Tell me something, was it one of the little ones?" Daryl unhooked the clasp of his holster where he kept his knife. "Cause they don't last too long out here."
He turned, ready to strike with his knife.
"Easy fellas, easy," Joe said, pushing Daryl's arm away and coming between Daryl and Len. Len smiled and laughed like it was some joke. Daryl could have killed him. "Let's just put our weapons down. See if we can't figure out what's really the problem here, huh? You claim it?"
"Hell yeah."
"Well, there you go, that critter belongs to Len.
"So let's have it."
Daryl had no clue what either of the men were talking about, but he wasn't going to back down. The rabbit belonged to him.
"Looks like you may be wanting an explanation. See, going it alone that ain't an option nowadays. Still, it is survival of the fittest. That's a paradox right there. SO I laid out some rules of the road to keep things from going Darwin every couple hours. Keep our merry band together and stress free. All you gotta do is claim. That's how you mark your territory, your prey, your bed at night. One word. Claimed."
"I ain't claiming nothin'," Daryl protested.
"You're gonna teach him, right?" Len said. "Joe, rules say we gotta teach him."
"Now it wouldn't be fair to punish you for violating a rule you never even knew existed."
Len did not seem to take the news well that Daryl was missing punishment. He circled around, running his hand through his hair angrily.
"Ain't no rules no more," Daryl said, staring at Len.
"Oh there are. You know that. That's why I didn't kill you for the crossbow."
Joe went to grab the rabbit from Daryl's hand. He held on to it, unsure of what was happening. He knew in his mind that there was more to his resistance than just the fact that he felt the rabbit belonged to him. He wanted Len to apologize for what he had said about Beth.
"Easy there, partner."
As Joe held one end of the rabbit and Daryl the other, Joe took his blade out and cut the rabbit clean in half. He threw the head at Len, who took it and stormed off.
"Claimed, that's all you gotta say. Ass end is still an end."
Joe walked away, leaving Daryl alone, thinking about Beth once again. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself picture her face for one more minute. Then, he tried to wipe it from his mind. If he was going to survive, he needed to focus.
By the time he made it back to the group, the men had already cleaned up their camp. They started walking through the woods with their weapons at the ready.
"Where we going?" Daryl asked, not really sure if anyone would have the answer.
"We got a place," Joe answered. "A safe house, we call it. We found a house a while back, boarded it up, secured it. It's got supplies and food."
"Why'd you leave?" Daryl questioned.
"We take off every few weeks. See what we can claim. Replenish supplies. But we always head back there. We've been out for two days gathering what we need. Time to go back. And we got a few other members of the group should be back there by now."
"A few others?"
"Didn't think we'd all travel together, did ya? Gotta split up. Best chance of survival and of finding the things we need."
"How far is this place?"
"About a day's walk."
Daryl sighed, knowing he had little choice in the matter. He knew he couldn't survived easily on his own
"Lead the way," Daryl said.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading. Please don't forget to review!
