Sorry this got posted a day late. I spent the entire weekend to get my Allen film project done and we just finally finished the final day filming Sunday night. I am head to toe covered in bruises and sores as I had to play in the shorts as a victim…. Of a serial killer- I'm okay, I swear! My producer and I plan to build up a youtube channel so you guys can see our work progress! Anyway, here's the explosive chapter! Enjoy!
It was cold in the woods, the trees had lost their leaves as they laid on the dirt ground. Fall had hit for Beth and Daryl as they worked on tracking. Daryl promised himself to teach her how to track, and she was a good learner- Most of the time. She asked a lot and wanted to make sure she was doing it right, Beth certainly had the confidence for it.
"Are we close?" She asked, holding his heavy crossbow.
"Almost done." He assured, standing close behind her to show how to aim the weapon.
"How do you know?" She asked, her eyes lined up to where the bolt was aimed.
"Signs are all there. Just got to know how to read 'em."
Beth stepped slowly, the heavy weapon raised up as she felt her arms tense under the weight. "What are we tracking?" She asked, seeing they've been at this since breakfast.
"You tell me." He told, seeing as she was the one leading as he followed behind. She lowered the crossbow and gave him a look over her shoulder. "You're the one who wanted to learn." Daryl shrugged.
Beth sighed, her eyes cast down to the floor finding something in the dirt. "Well, something came through here." The footprints weren't in a straight line. "The pattern is all zig-zaggy." She noted, suddenly she smiled recognizing the footing. "It's a walker."
Daryl rubbed his chin, eyeing the markings up. "Maybe it's a drunk." He teased her, seeing her confidence boost again.
"I'm getting good at this." Beth raised a crossbow, slowly following the track. "Pretty soon I won't need you at all." She boasted.
Daryl nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, keep on trackin'." He told, his eyes searching for something other than a trail to a walker.
Finding a bit opening, it was indeed a walker sitting in the center having a go as some poor rodent it caught. The pair stayed behind some bushes, Beth noticed something on the walker.
"It's got a gun." She looked to Daryl who nodded to go for it. If it had a weapon it was definitely worth killing and looting.
With slow silent steps, Beth walked up to get a closer shot of the walker. She was lucky to not step on any leaves or branches to alert the creature. As she got closer, her luck ran out just as her heel got caught in a trap. She cried out in pain, falling to the ground catching the walker's attention. It dropped the gutted possum and stood, finding a fresh brunch plated for him. Daryl made a sprint to aid her, just as she fired the crossbow. Seeing it jerk back, Beth thought she had hit the head. It turned showing she had only shot it through its open mouth, missing the brain. Daryl ripped the crossbow from her hands and thwacked it upside the head, killing it.
Once dead, Daryl slid into the dirt to free Beth's ankle. Thankfully, it was a huge bear trap like Kaylee was once in, a tiny one for deer or foxes. He unlatched the damn thing and tossed it, seeing if it pierced the boot to her skin.
"Can ya move it?" He asked, reaching for it but reeled back not wanting to make whatever happened worse.
Beth rubbed the spot and slowly turned her heel testing it. "Yeah." She told, though it did hurt.
Daryl gently held her heel and turned it slowly waiting for her to wince to tell him to stop. She only inhaled sharply at some pointed, moving to stand. Daryl knelt in the dirt, waiting to see as she put her weight on the other foot. He stood and walked over to the walker, turning its body about to unbuckle its duty belt seeing the walker was a cop. Daryl was thankful, he was glad it wasn't Rick he was taking this off of.
"Is it loaded?" She asked, limping over with a wince.
"Don't move." He told, removing the gun and checking the mag. "It's loaded."
Daryl walked over, and wrapped it around her waist as she stood there a bit awkwardly. It hung loosely from her waist as he picked up his crossbow and wrapped his arm around her waist.
"Lean yer weight on me, a'right?" He told, she nodded and she wrapped her arm around she shoulder as he helped her out of the clearing.
"What are the odds of finding shit here?" Merle asked, the car slowly strolling through the small town of Orchard Hill.
Papers scattered the road and sidewalks, corpses were lying about, but only a few now and then. The side of the passing buildings were covered in graffiti. 'THE END IS UPON US' 'DEATH TO ALL' and 'SINNERS WILL PAY'. Merle scoffed at what he read, turning the wheel to pull into the lot where a dollar store was found. The windows were black covered in paint and the doors were chained shut. Merle put the car into park and shut it off, looking to Angela. She looked over the place herself, taking in a deep breath.
"I'll take a look." He told, climbing out of the car and taking one of the pool cues from the back.
Angela got out, walking up to the windows, scratching at the paint in attempt to look inside. Merle walked over with a backpack on his shoulder, ready to loot whatever was inside.
"Judging by the chains," Said Angela. "they either wanted to keep something in-"
"Or keep something out." Merle nodded eyeing the chains up. He looked down at his cue stick and stuck it between the chains.
Angela's brows knotted, "That's not gonna-" Merle bent the stick, it splintered and broke from the force. "Work."
"Shit." He tossed the stick to the ground and gripped the chains, shaking the rusty things. "Damn stupid, assholes!" Merle spat, the chains jingling against one another.
"Just break the glass." She told, smacking her hand against the black covered windows.
Merle walked over, waiting for any noise to emerge from inside. Angela turned and leaned against the glass, squinting as the sun beamed from above. "I'll find something to break 'em." He told, walking around the side of the building.
Angela, not having the patience, looked around for a brick or rock to throw at the glass. Sure, she was against the idea back at the bowling alley, they were only looting the place and then leaving. She turned back with a brick in her hand eyeing up the paint covered glass. No banging or slamming on the other side was heard, Angela assumed no walkers were inside. So, she took the initiative to reel her arm back and throw the brick at the glass. It smashed right through and shattered the glass, she stepped back waiting for walkers to come pouring out. Instead, she saw Merle running back over with a glowering look on his features.
"What the hell ya doing, woman!?" He questioned, side stepping from the open store pointing at the broken glass wit a pipe in hand.
"I got it open." She argued, adjusting her sling. "I don't see any walkers coming out."
"Don't mean it's safe!" He barked, his knuckles white from gripping the pipe so tightly. "Ya can't-" Merle sighed and turned back, seeing nothing exiting the store. He looked to Angela and pointed the pipe at her. "Ya lucky, woman."
Angela glared the back of his head, following him to the smashed glass. He stepped through, both shining flashlights around the room. Angela looked around, seeing shelving units moved against the wall leaving the center of the store wide and open. The shelves weren't empty completely, Merle wandered against the left shelves seeing kitchen wares and women's essentials. He paused in his footing, eyeing a beaten up pink and white box. He took it off the shelf and ripped it open, pocketing the item inside. Angela looked over the right side, seeing pet toys and surprisingly hair products and soaps. She didn't hesitate to gather the soaps and small bottles and shoved them into the bowling bag.
Merle turned to approach Angela, stopping at the sight of camping equipment in the center. Angela looked around, spotting the items as well. A tent was set up but looked empty by the angle they saw. Only a sleeping bag, lantern, and many wrappers of snacks and old cans. Some fashion magazines were found next to the tent, Angela cringed at the sight of them looking wrinkled and worn out.
Merle held an arm up, keeping Angela from getting any closer. Was this place already claimed? If so, why hadn't the survivor emerged when she broke the window?
"Stay close." He whispered, moving around the tent with her following behind.
The freezer section against the back wall had all the doors chained shut. With it being so dark, the flashlight only had the light reflect back at them against the glass. As they got closer, Merle tried to see into the yellow tinted grime like glass. The two jumped back when a walker slammed itself against the door, soon others followed clawing at each door. Merle and Angela stepped back, the doors shook fearing the walkers would escape.
"Someone locked them in here." Angela indicated, her eyes scanning up the line. She walked along doors, seeing the entire back freezer room was filled with walkers. "Like cattle."
Merle followed up behind her, frowning at the sight of this store. No food, no medical supplies, walkers behind glass. He shook his head, turning his shoulder to the freezer doors. "Don't like this, best we move on."
"There has to be medical kits here somewhere." She insisted, walking toward the office.
Merle walked up, pushing her good shoulder toward the door. "Get in the car, we can't stay here."
Angela sighed tiredly, walking toward the smashed window. She ducked through the door with Merle following as she tossed the bag into the back of the car. Merle did the same, sliding into the driver's seat, Angela climbed in with a large sigh as she slammed the door. Merle started the car and continued their drive down the road.
Daryl helped Beth through the woods until they finally found a clearing- a large one. They had found a cemetery, how fitting, Daryl thought as they approached the land of graves. In the distance he spotted a building, be it a house or funeral home. Either way, it meant they had a safe place to stay.
"Can we-Can we hold up a sec?" Beth asked, pausing as she was helped to walk with Daryl.
He stopped and looked down as she reached for her boot. "Ya a'right?" He asked, hoping she hadn't been too badly injured as he thought.
"I just need to sit down." She assured, moving her ankle, though pain was seen in her features.
The hunter eyed the building up. "A'right, hold up."
Best wanting to get to the funeral home before dark, Daryl lopped his crossbow across his chest and took a few breaths. He moved in front of Beth and hunched forward, as she eyed him questioningly.
"Hope on." He told, ready to carry her the rest of the way.
"Are you serious?" She questioned, grinning to herself.
He glanced back at her, "Yeah, this is a serious piggyback. Jump up." Daryl nodding his head.
Thinking no other answer, Beth grabbed his shoulders and hopped onto his back. Not expecting the weight he thought, he adjusting her on his back, as she wrapped her arms around him and his hands hooked under her legs.
"Yer heavier than ya look." He commented, earning a chuckle from her.
"Maybe there are people there." She told, referring to the funeral home.
"Yeah, if there are, I'll handle 'em." Daryl assured her.
Beth sighed, looking over his head at the graves they passed by. "There are still good people, Daryl."
Daryl shrugged, "I don't think the good ones survived." he told her.
Halfway through the graveyard, one headstone caught the teen's attention. She slid off Daryl's back, making him pause as she looked over the stone. He read the words, glancing to her in understanding. It was a father's grave, not hers but someone's. Wanting her father properly buried with loved one nearby, dying of old age than a chop off his head. A wish hard to expect to happen anymore.
Daryl spotted some pretty yellow flowers and bent down, ripping them from the stem and placing them gently on top of the headstone. 'Beloved Father', the gravestone read. He stepped back, pausing as a grave next to it made his heart sink. He swore it thought it was her grave, but that was impossible. Just the name, 'Angela' almost made him lose his breath. Beth looked over, noticing Daryl staring at something, spotting the gravestone. She bit her lip, looking down and taking his hand in hers. She tangled her fingers in his, squeezing his hand as he looked down at her. Beth looked over the grave, Daryl sighed gripping her hand in his.
The hunter closed his eyes, seeing that smiling face of Angela's in his mind. Her bright green eyes shining at him, her laughter echoing in his ears.
"My hunter."
Whenever he got back from hunting, bringing home a deer or a racoon, she always grinned at the sight of his return. Calling him that, her hunter.
His baby blues opened, exhaling deeply through his nose. "Let's get inside." He told Beth, lifting her hand to grip his shoulder.
She nodded, raising to grip his other shoulder. Daryl bent down once more and Beth hopped back onto his back and the two continued up to the funeral home. Upon approaching the porch. Daryl lent Beth down and took off his crossbow and loaded an arrow to it. Beth looked around, seeing leaves cover the yard yet none seen to touch the porch where they stood. Lounge chairs were untouched, as if welcoming her to sit and relax. The doors and windows were covered in wood boards, though they were neatly tiled next to one another.
Daryl reached for the door knob and pushed it open, surprisingly not finding it locked or barricaded. He slammed his hands against the wood and gave a whistle inside. From what Daryl could see, the place was largely spacious and… neat. The desks, lamps, pictures, all decor was placed nicely against the wall as if the funeral home was still in business. Beth took a step to enter, peeking to see just how clean and untouched it was just like the porch.
"Give it a minute." Daryl told, pausing in her entering.
They did stand there a minute, and not a sound emerged from inside. No growling, snarling, no yelling or threats. Was anyone, walker or living, even inside the home? Daryl took slow silent steps inside looking into the room on the right to see it empty of anyone, but filled with the furniture in its rightful place. Beth followed, shutting the door with gun in hand as they examined the place. The wallpaper was old fashioned and ugly, but clean of any dust or grime. It was like the apocalypse hadn't touched this place over the past year.
"It's so clean." Beth commented, looking at the pristine chandelier above her head.
"Yeah," Daryl agreed, thinking it wasn't a good sign. "Someone's been tendin' to it. May still be 'round."
Daryl spotted something in the room to his right, he nodded at Beth to follow as he entered it. A line of chairs filled the room with a casket at the end. What caught Daryl's attention was a body inside, a clean none turned corpse. Was it even real, the shine on the skin made him reach over to peel at the skin. Beth felt disgusted seeing the pale cream being scrapped off to reveal the rotting skin of the corpse against the cheek. Daryl's lip curled at the action he had just done, looking to Beth in question.
The hunter wiped the make up on the lining of the casket to get it off his fingers as they ventured through the home. The two knew funeral homes held corpses, so what if there were walkers locked away somewhere. Down below, a morgue was found to keep the cold and dress them up for funerals. Just as the two thought, two more corpses were found, both dressed in suits. The one had it's make up halfway done, the other which was awaiting for its turn, hadn't been done up yet. The gray cold skin hollowing out in its face and rotting teeth showing in the open mouth.
Daryl saw this as a chance to find some medical supplied to wrap Beth's ankle. He ignored the corpses and placed his crossbow down to search the cabinets. The teen, meanwhile, was in awe at the work done for these once was possible loved and important people. Seeing the half of its face as if it was a normal dead human and the other face revealing it had turned into a walker at some point.
"Let's get that ankle wrapped." Daryl told, finding the need supplied in the first cabinet he opened. He bit at the plastic bag that held the gauze and wandered over, seeing Beth looking over the bodies. "Looks like someone ran out of dolls to dress up." He commented.
Beth looked up at him, "It's beautiful." she defended.
Daryl frowned and looked over them, how the hell was this beautiful?
"Whoever did this… cared." She explained. "They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered these things were people, before all this. They didn't let it change them in the end."
Daryl wanted to understand, but his brain felt muddled at the thought of burying a loved one. No one in his family really had a proper funeral like this. His mother died in a fire with nothing left of her, his father was eaten by walkers and killed by his Uncle Jess, said Uncle got bit and turned leaving Daryl to kill him. Then there's the group, Dale, T-Dog, Lori, Kaylee, Andrea. Yes, they had 'furneral's', but nothing like this. No dressing up, no make up, no ceremony in a fancy room and plush casket. Just wrapped in a sheet and placed in a hole.
His eyes stayed on the man who had half the make up done, revealing how he had turned yet showing what he may have looked like before all this. If he saw someone he cared for or loved turned like this, would he want them back how he remembered them? The same exact way?
"Don't you think that's beautiful?" Beth asked Daryl, he looked up startled the question.
Beautiful, maybe not. Understandable, possibly. The hunter didn't know how to answer that question without wanting to shrug or just say he didn't know. But the look she held in her eyes, made him want to just change the subject or yes for her benefit. Those eyes, eyes on innocence were the same Kaylee held at him back locked in that room.
No, he can't keep comparing the two. He won't let what happened to Kaylee happen to Beth.
"Come on." Was all he said, gently tugging her over to the table.
Daryl got down and had her lean on the counter as he removed her boot and started wrapping her ankle. Beth stood looking down as he tended to her. It didn't seem too swollen from her angle, watching him wrap it.
An hour into the silent drive, Merle couldn't think what to say to Angela. He kept giving short glances seeing her look out the window or looking over the hair products she was eager to have. Feeling they were at a good distance from the store, leaving Orchard Hill, Merle pulled the car to the side of the road. Confused, Angela felt the car stop and looked to Merle as he turned the engine off.
"Found a rest stop?" She asked, looking around to see nothing but woods and nature on the empty road. "What's up?"
Merle looked to her, he had a face that she never seen before. It made her frown in confused when he reached back into his pocket and held something out to her. When she saw the stick, her eyes went wide and back up to Merle in shock.
"What the fuck is that?" She questioned.
"What do you think it is?" He retorted.
Angela sighed, shaking her head. "What in God's hell makes you think I need to take a pregnancy test?"
That's right, Merle was holding a pregnancy stick; fresh and new from the package he swiped from the last stop they made. His face held a serious solemn look, one she hadn't seen. No grinning, no jokes, nothing. Just, deadpan seriousness.
"Oh, maybe the list of symptoms. Puking your guts out, taking a piss break more than I can count, sleeping constantly."
"Maybe it's something to do with my arm?" She tried to excuse, but Merle wasn't having it.
Merle dropped his hand, chewing his lip as he was losing his patience to the stubborn woman. "When was your last time of the month?"
Angela's eyes darted about, trying to think back how many times. Not even knowing the month or a calendar to keep track, she tried to figure the math out in her head. He saw her pale when she closed her eyes, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead.
"Now, I could be wrong." Merle told, holding the stick back up to her again. "Just to put my mind at ease, take this, go piss on it and we'll see what it says."
"I just- Daryl and I have only had sex four times, all with condoms." She told, trying to wrap her head around it.
"Well, ya ain't on any birth control and condoms break, sweetheart." He responded with a shrug.
Angela let out a long sigh, taking the damned stick and leaving the car to go take the test in the bushes. Merle got out of the car, keeping watch until she returned with the stick. They got back in, Angela placing the stick on the dashboard.
"Gotta wait about ten minutes, right?" She asked, he nodded and started the car up again. "How do you know so much about this? The symptoms, testing and all that?"
Merle finally grinned as they drove back onto the road, continuing their journey. "I may have had a good number of STDs, but also had a few pregnancy scares."
"Not surprised." Angela shrugged, "Been accused?" she asked.
Merle nodded, "Some bitch wanting one night would come back weeks later, yelling how I knocked her up and shit. Took a test or two and she wasn't. Always blaming me, wanting my money for the kid if she had it." he explained, wrist resting lazily on the wheel as the stumped arm rested on the car door.
"How many times has this happened?" She asked.
"Only a few, once I got into the army and soon jail time, it stopped." He told.
Angela learned more about Merle she hadn't expected, Daryl never told her these but maybe he didn't know. Probably something Merle kept from the family in case his dad would beat or kill him for getting a girl pregnant. She leaned back into her seat, eyes staring at the test.
"Y'know, if ya are, then I'll be damn proud of my baby brother." Angela glanced over seeing Merle still grinning. "Never thought Darlyina had it in him."
"I'm surprised you'd be proud of anything he does." She muttered under her breath.
Merle frowned, eyes on the road. He decided not to argue on her, despite he never really did praise his brother out-loud much. Maybe he had grown softer the past number of months.
"You miss him." Hissed the voice of Kaylee from the back seat. Merle swatted his arm as if a fly buzzed in his ear.
"What would Daryl say?" Angela asked.
Merle bellowed a laugh, slapping a hand on the wheel. "He might faint! I'd pay to see that!" Angela frowned, not finding this matter funny. "What's got ya so tight lipped? Ya carrying a Dixon- Maybe."
"If it wasn't the world we were in, I'd be bouncing with joy." She told, her hand resisting to rest on her flat stomach as if feeling something would confirm the possibility alone. "You know how Lori was pregnant with Judith before you arrived?"
"Yup." He nodded. "What about it?"
"Lori died during her C-Section when Judith was born."
"Ya think that'll happen to ya?" Merle asked as he shook his head. "Daryl wouldn't let it happen."
"Daryl isn't here." She told thinly. "Rick wasn't there when Lori went into labor. We were attacked. Maggie, Carl, and Kaylee was there." Angela started.
Merle gave a short glance at the mention of her sister. Angela looked out the window, remembering that day. "She helped Maggie with the surgery, cut Lori open and took Judith out. Rick didn't get to say goodbye, no body was found."
The redneck guessed a lone walker had found the corpse and ate it. "That ain't happening to ya." He told, eyes focusing on the road.
"You don't know that, Merle. Something worse can happen. What if I go into early labor or the baby is a stillborn and eats me inside out?" Angela was obviously shaken up by these thoughts, her hands gripping the end of her shirt tightly.
Merle nodded, "Princess was a tough cookie." he praised. Angela looked over to him. "She might not have shown it 'til the last minute, but she was a badass." He glanced to her, honesty in his eyes as he pointed at her stomach. "If yer as tough as she was, you'll make it through. You're not alone in this."
The words were shockingly touching from the usual uncaring badmouthed Dixon. But, the thought of losing another like Kaylee or possibly carrying a new Dixon might have changed tweaked him into protective brother mode.
Angela looked down, taking a breath and looked back up to Merle. "What happened, Merle? When you ambushed the Governor and Kaylee? I know he killed her, but I need to know what happened."
Merle chewed his lip, wanting to tell the truth but found his voice wasn't going to listen. He glanced in the rear view mirror, spotting Kaylee grinning from the back seat. The older Dixon sighed, putting his stump against the wheel and reaching over to pick up the stick.
"This thing ready yet?" He asked, shaking it as if it was a thermometer.
"Merle, just tell me what happened. Please."
Merle tossed the stick back onto the dash, Angela flinched fearing it would mess up the results. "Why is it so hard to tell me the truth?"
"Because!" He barked at her, feeling his brain buzz in panic.
"Because why, damnit!?" Merle felt his anger growing, pressing his foot against the gas bringing the speed up to 70mph. "If your scared to tell me, you don't have to be! That son of a bitch is finally dead, but at least he would've told me what happened that day!"
Merle spun his head to her, steering wheel turned at his movement as the car jerked to the side of the road. "Ya wanna know what happened!?"
"Yes! Tell me what her final words were! What was she doing going after you!?" Angela screeched out at him. "Tell me-!"
Angela's scream was burned out by the sound of the tired screeching against the asphalt. The car swerved to the right before Merle could take the wheel of the out of control car. The vehicle ran off the road, taking air off a ridge and crashing head first into a ditch. The two passengers, securely buckled inside, lay forward against the straps. The air bags hadn't gone off, as Merle's bleeding head and nose was pressed against the wheel, making the horn go off. Angela's head was against the cracked window of the door, blood dripping down her head and her lip cut. The two were unconscious, unable to move with the car near standing up on its front end against the ridge in the ditch.
Sadly, the sound of the horn was attracting walkers nearby. In the woods they heard the distant sound and slowly turned, jaws dangling and arms hanging at some sides as they changed direction toward the noise. They growled as they all started grouping together, approaching the road where the car's back end was seen sticking out of the ditch. Once reaching the car, the sight of the victims inside made them claw and bang against the vehicle. Even with the blaring horn and threat of the walkers outside, the two didn't stir.
Once Daryl was done tending to Beth's ankle, they returned upstairs and started their next search; Food. The two made a beeline for the kitchen, the white cabinets and clean countertops got them thinking of someone was keeping this clean, then food had to be somewhere. Beth opened the fridge, half expecting cold fresh milk or fruit but found it cleaned out and out of power.
"Dang." She muttered. "You find anything?"
Daryl rifled through the cabinets, spotting dishes and jars without a spec of dirt on them. He was about to answer no, but the two suddenly found the mother load of food and drinks all stacked together in the center cabinet.
"Whoa." Beth was amazed, not seeing such food brands in so long.
Daryl looked them over, reading the labels and recognizing some foods. "Peanut butter and jelly, diet soda, and pig's feet." Beth took a jar of the peanut better as he looked over the jar of jelly. "That's a white trash brunch right there." He joked.
"It all looks good to me." Beth told, taking a few cans off the lower shelf.
A thought then occurred to Daryl. "No, hold up." Beth paused looking to him, thinking the food was expired or no good. "Ain't a speck of dust on this."
"So?"
"That means somebody just put it here. This is someone's stash, maybe their still alive." He told, looking over at the eagerness Beth held to eat the food. Deciding what was best, he nodded to himself. "A'right, we'll take some of it n' we'll leave the rest, a'right?"
As Beth placed a can back, she grinned. "I knew it."
Daryl looked to her in question as he twisted the cap off the jar. "Knew what?"
"It's like I said, there are still good people." She smiled at him.
In response, like an annoying older brother, Daryl just scooped out the jelly and shoved it into his open mouth. Beth recoiled in disgust at how he ate it like an animal right in her face.
"Gross!"
Daryl hummed and licked the inside of the jar claiming it. "Hey," He pointed at the jar as Beth moved to sit at the table. "Those pig's feet are mine."
"You can keep them." She laughed, opening the peanut butter and going into the drawers to find a spoon.
Daryl tossed the lid onto the table and sat down with a huge, scooping out the jelly continuously with his fingers. Beth found the drawer and took out two spoons, sitting across from Daryl and handing him one. He eyed it for a moment, Daryl licked off the remaining grape remnants off his fingers then took the spoon and ate more civilized. Beth sat down and scooped out the peanut butter eating small spoonfuls, unlike Daryl who tried to fit more onto the spoon than it could hold.
Daryl stood for a moment, reaching for the pigs feet about to twist the lid off the jar. "How do you eat those?" Beth asked, as Daryl sat back down with a grunt.
"What, pig's feet?" He asked, tossing the lid with the other. He stirred the jar and sniffed it. "Ya eat it like a rib."
The hunter reached in and took a chopped up foot and chewed at the meat. Beth watched smelling the contents, making her question the taste even more. The hunter placed two bottles of soda for them to wash down their meal. The two ate out of the tomato cans, jars and other assortments before becoming full. Daryl started collecting the cans, gaining Beth's attention.
"What are you gonna do with them?" She asked.
"Gonna set these up outside, let us know any walkers wander or livin' folk." He explained, picking up his crossbow. "I'll be back."
Daryl left, the door opened and shutting out in the foyer. Beth sighed and tapped her fingers on the table for a moment before eyeing up the half jar of pigs feet. Curiosity got the better of her. She glanced at the doorway and back at the jar, reached over and pulling it to her. Beth reached in, taking a small piece of the floating leg and glanced back once more before taking the tiniest nibble into it. Her lips curled in disgust and she shook her head, her tongue sticking out. The teen closed the jar and quickly opened her soda to rid the sour horrid taste in her mouth. It just tasted like ham soaked in vinegar, which it essentially is.
Beth swallowed the dark fizzy drink and closed the cap getting to her feet. Okay, she wasn't going to eat those for sure. Daryl could have them all.
Said hunter outside had found a can of recycled cans where he used rope he had found to string them along the porch. Once he had the rope tied at each pillar, he stepped over and shook them to test it. The cans jingled and made a good amount of noise. Once that was done, he checked the windows and the back door, He yanked at the boards to test them, finding it a struggle to pry them off himself. Daryl circled the place, stopping at the porch pausing himself before returning inside.
Daryl sat down at a chair seeing the sun setting behind the trees. His fingers reached for the pocket in his vest finding the cigarettes he's been saving. Daryl managed to get them from that shack before he and Beth burned the place. With a small match set, also snagged from the shack, he lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply taking in the nicotine. He took the stick from his lips and exhaled for the smoke to fade into the air, the scent calming him, though his nerves still stood on ends.
Well, they had found shelter for now. If the owner of the items came back, Daryl would be prepared to deal with them violently or just to an agreement. If it meant it could be someone from the prison, that'd be worth the wait.
What was he doing? Daryl knew it was no one from the group, the way it was kept clean and the amount of food gathered within that time, it couldn't be. Not to mention, no one would be dressing those corpses up unless it was the owner of the home. Maybe he just wanted that bit of hope back in him. Expecting to see Rick walking up holding Little Ass-Kicker and Carl beside him, Maggie and Glenn hand in hand, Carol and Angela teasing each other, his brother Merle busting his balls as usual.
He had Beth though, and he was thankful to not be alone. Daryl just hoped Angela and the others weren't if they survived.
As the sun lowered, Daryl finished his cigarette and stumped it out on the porch, rubbing his boot into it. He sighed out the last smoke and turned to reenter the home. One he had, he found the kitchen empty and the sound of piano playing. Beth must have found that in the other room, hearing the faint singing of her voice.
"And that, that's a relief.
We'll drink up our grief.
And pine for Summer."
Daryl peeked in and leaned against the doorway watching the teen. It had gotten dark and she had some candles lit playing the keys and singing. With her back to him, she had no clue he was watching her sing softly to herself.
"And we'll buy beer to shotgun.
And we'll lay in the lawn.
And we'll be good."
Daryl cleared his throat to get her attention, she jumped and hit a key turning to him. He didn't mean to spook her, as he tossed his thumb down the hall. "Got the place nailed up tight."
Beth watched him placed the crossbow down on the ultra fancy sofa and gravitate toward the empty coffin. "The only way in is through the front door." Beth nodded.
Not resisting it, Daryl leaned back and hopped into the coffin, his legs hanging off the edge. "What are you doing?" Beth asked, an amused smirk playing on her lips.
"This is the comfiest bed I've had in years." He told, swinging his feet in and getting himself comfortable.
"Really?" She asked, finding it odd to choose that place to sleep.
"I ain't kiddin'." He assured, laying back against the plush velvet pillow. He sighed feeling the ache in his back relish in the comfort of the bed for the dead. "Why don't ya go ahead n' play some more? Keep singin'."
"I thought my singing annoyed you?" Beth asked, he had a notion of it back during his drunk rage.
Daryl snuggled deeper into the coffin, shrugging at her. "There ain't no jukebox, so…" He rested his arm over his head and other hand on his chest, ready to just sleep for the night. In all honesty, the singing calmed him and he could use it.
Beth smiled, blushing and she turned to continue her playing where she left off. The piano keys filled the room with her soft voice singing to follow it.
"And we'll buy beer to shotgun.
And we'll lay in the lawn.
And we'll be good.
Now I'm laughing at my boredom.
And my string of failed attempts.
Cause you think it's important.
And I welcome the sentiment."
Daryl sighed again, letting his arm rest over his closed eyes awaiting for sleep to take over.
Hours had passed and darkness had settled. The walkers continued slamming their hands against the glass and clawing at the car to reach the two inside the Camaro. Over ten walkers had gathered around the loud vehicle, more expecting to come from the woods. Headlights from the road started to shine in as they grew closer to the scene. The vehicle stopped, the lights revealing the car and swarm of walkers to the driver.
The faded blue pickup truck's door opened as a man climbed out and slammed it shut. He raised a wide machete onto his shoulder, the hairs of his mustache tickled his lips as he puckered his lips to whistle the tune from the car. Some walkers by the edge of the ditch turned, noticing the newcomer as a easier meal to reach then what was in the stuck car. A pause came to him as he took in a sharp breath and slammed the blade into the closest walker's skull at the dip of the ditch. The man swung and sliced at the walkers one by one, clearing the way to the vehicle. He holstered the machete at his hip and looked inside, seeing the shadow of a man at the wheel where the horn was emanating. He opened the door which was unlocked to his surprise, and heaved the man off the wheel, silencing the night finally. The injured man had one arm that made him think, this bastard has gone through shit.
The mustached man heaved him out of the car, finding him heavier than expected. An arm over his shoulder and he tugged at the back of his belt to keep him upright as he dragged his feet behind the truck. Lowering the back he tossed the man onto the flatbed, exhaling his breath at the haul. The mustached man went into the passenger car, the music softly playing from the CD player in the car as the lyrics made him hum to it.
Last Saturday night, I got married.
Me and my wife settled down.
Now me and my wife are parted.
Gonna take another stroll downtown.
He got out the duct tape and walked back toward the man, tapping his ankles together, arms behind his back and his mouth. Because of the prosthetic he had, the man decided to just tape together his entire lower arms together to ensure security. With the man still alive and breathing, he made sure he was able to breath through his bleeding nose as he slammed the back shut.
Sometimes I live in the country.
Sometimes I live in town.
Sometimes I take a fool notion.
To jump in the river and drown.
Deciding to search for items inside, the gingered mustached man walked around the car, spotting another figured shadow in the passenger seat. Ah, a twofer, he thought! He jogged to the passenger door and swung it open, the person fell out as he knelt down to catch them in his arms. Their face leaning against their arms, he knew that sharp face and had to be sure. His dirty fingers combed through her hair finding the scar against her head hiding under her grown hair, seeing someone had added the scar across her face. His lips curled again, it was fate!
Stop your ramblin', stop your gramblin'.
Stop stayin' out late at night.
Go home to your wife and family.
Stay there by fireside bright.
The gingered man picked up the woman more gently than the one armed man, holding her close as he approached his truck and placed her in the passenger seat. Walking around the car, he climbed into his driver's seat and looked her over. It was like a dream, she was here again! He saw the blood down her face and took out his faded yellow handkerchief and dabbed to clean the wound. She flinched making him raise his free hand in case he had to cover her mouth from screaming. Her features showed pain as she tilted her head but didn't wake up. His eyes traveled down to her arm, seeing the bandage, she was injured before the crash seeing fresh blood seep through it.
Irene, goodnight.
Irene, goodnight.
Goodnight Irene.
Goodnight Irene.
I'll see you in my dreams.
Smiling softly, he sighed and pressed down on the gas and turned the wheel to made a U turn on the road and return where he came from. He hummed the sung, and glanced down at the woman singing the lyrics to her.
"Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene. I'll see ya 'n my dreams." He sang, reaching over and rubbed his dirt and walker blood stained knuckled against her cheek. "Goodnight, my Angel."
GUESS WHO RETURNS! Yes, Johnny Cash once again for this song! I find this song and the other "We'll Meet Again" creepy more than anything- If used in the right way.
Thank you RedFuryanDireWolf, LexizAexo for the likes and follows!
RedVelvetPanPan- Ahh, I still have to plan with the damn season 9 making a turn on that SIX year timeskip so I might rework things. Can't wait to see your reaction to this surprise!
Kara315- I wanted Merle with her the second I decided to have her live, if not I would've had her with Rick, Carl, and Michonne. Thanks so much!
Crossbow-Angel92- Hello new face! Oh really? Well, here's more hope you enjoyed the surprise!
