Sorry for the shortness, but if I added the parts I wanted to this chapter it would have probably been super long and not updated tonight. Plus, I think those events deserve their own chapter anyways!
I hope you all enjoy!
This chapter has been rewritten.
Chapter Nine
"Charlie?" Daryl stumbled back and fell, eyes wide with fear as his friend continued to limp and snarl towards him. Blood dripped from his face and bloodied hands reached for Daryl. "This ain't funny."
Charlie didn't say a word. Snarls and growls were the only things leaving his mouth and his teeth gnashed as he continued to advance on Daryl. His hands were claw like, wanting to grab at him and Charlie's eyes... There was so something so inhuman about them. There was no soul behind them. They were empty.
"You aren't Charlie anymore, are you?" Daryl's voice broke as he stood to his feet and unslung his crossbow. "This isn't supposed to happen. This can't happen." But it had. This wasn't Charlie. Charlie was dead and this was just some thing.
"I don't want to do this," he choked and tears brimmed in his eyes as he loaded a bolt in his bow. "Don't make me do this, Charlie. You were like a dad to me. I can't..."
The older man- no, thing - lunged and Daryl fell under its weight. His crossbow was knocked from his hands and he was barely able to keep Charlie from biting him in the shoulder. With a vicious kick, Daryl sent the thing backwards and quickly scrambled for his discarded bow. Aiming, he let a bolt fly...right into Charlie's heart.
The thing should have stopped moving. It should have been killed. But it continued to move forward as if it had never been shot. Daryl loaded another bolt as quickly as he could with shaky hands. This time, when he let the bolt fly, he aimed for the head. Charlie crumpled to the ground when the bolt went through his forehead and he didn't get up.
So was that it? Aim for the head?
Cautiously, Daryl approached the body, stomach rolling. He flipped it over on its back with a boot. Lifeless eyes bore into his and blood seeped from the wound in its head. He couldn't look at the broken body anymore and fell to his knees where he finally vomited into the grass.
"Fuck, Charlie!" He shouted at the body after wiping his mouth. "What the hell happened to you? Why didn't you tell anybody?" He shoved the body angrily before pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes and willed himself not to cry. It was the hardest thing he had ever done.
He had just killed the man who had been the closest thing to a father to him and Merle. The only person, besides Carol, who hadn't cared what his last name was and only cared about the type of man he was. Charlie had never judged him because of Buck...and now, he was dead.
Killed. By him.
The dam behind his eyes finally burst and Daryl allowed himself to cry.
Carol returned to an empty house with Daryl's truck missing in the driveway. She didn't think anything of it, though, figuring he was still at work. Slipping off her shoes by the door, she went straight toward the bathroom, needing a shower. Afterwards, instead of slipping on her pajamas, she put on her favorite robe. It was dark blue and made of silk. Daryl had gotten it for her for one Christmas.
After slipping on the comfortable robe, Carol went into the bedroom to retrieve her phone. She hadn't heard from her father in a few days and she wondered what he was up to.'
Dialing his number, she waited on the other line for him to answer. However, no one did. She found that odd. He always answered when Carol called. She tried Sharon's cell next and got the same result. Shrugging, she put her phone back on the charger and laid down on the bed to await. They were probably out swimming or something and didn't have their phones on them.
That's what she would keep telling herself.
"Milton, honey, come here and look at this!" Andrea called from the couch in their new living room. She had decided to take a little break from unpacking and sat down to watch a little TV. The news had caught her eye as she flipped through the channels.
"What is it?" Milton asked and joined Andrea on the couch.
"Something weird is going on in Florida. Look." She pointed at the screen. "Those people that were admitted into the hospital earlier in the week are dying. The first one died like three hours ago and six more since."
Milton adjusted his glasses and leaned closer. "That's not good."
"No, it isn't." Andrea worried her bottom lip. "They're saying that the vaccine they were giving people for this sickness, whatever it is, is doing more harm than good."
Milton wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close when he saw how worried she looked. "I just hope that it doesn't spread up here. They need to find a cure and fast. I don't want anything to happen to you."
Me, too, she thought and placed a hand over the slight bump in her stomach where their baby was growing. I don't want anything to happen to the three of us.
It had grown dark before Daryl made his way home. His clothes were covered in blood. None of his own, but all of it Charlie's. Once Daryl took his hands from the steering wheel, they wouldn't stop shaking. His mind was numb and all he wanted to do was scrub himself raw.
After he had killed his friend, he had sat there, next to the body, for what felt like hours, trying hard to stop the raking sobs that shuddered through his body. However, no matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn't stop. Never in his life had he cried so hard. Also, never in his life had he killed someone before. Especially someone so close to him. But he had had no choice. The thing in control of Charlie's body would have killed him first.
Time passed and finally, Daryl wiped the tears fiercely away and stood. He walked back to Charlie's house, grabbed a shovel and dug a grave for Charlie. Then, he had drug the lifeless body into it and buried him. And that was it. There was no funeral. No grave marker and no words were said. Daryl had buried the only man who had ever treated him like a son and walked away.
"Daryl? Is that you?" Carol's voice drifted from somewhere further in the house. Her voice always soothed Daryl and all he wanted to do was wrap himself around her and listen to her talk, telling him everything was okay. That what he had done was okay.
"I'm in the bedroom," she called once more.
He didn't say anything in return and soon found himself standing in the doorway to their bedroom. Carol was sitting at the edge of the bed in nothing but the blue silk robe he had bought her and a warm smile. However, that smile quickly faded when she saw his clothes and the blood.
"Oh my God, Daryl!" She shot from the bed and ran to him. "What happened?" Her hands roamed his body look for injuries that weren't there.
"It ain't mine," he answered, voice hoarse from crying. "None of it is."
"Who-?"
"Charlie's."
She gasped and a hand flew to her mouth.
"I-I went over to his house to check on him and instead, I found him outside in the woods, eatin' on a deer." He swallowed and looked down, unable to look Carol in the eye for what he was about to tell her next. "He heard me comin' and he turned to face me. 'Cept it wasn't him. His eyes were white and he had blood all over his face and hands. He wanted to kill him, Carol."
She gasped, again and wrapped her arms around him.
"I shot him in the heart," he continued. "But he kept comin'. So, then I shot him in the head, like a damn rabid dog." Tears were once again threatening to spill over. "I buried him and didn't say shit over his grave, Carol. I fuckin' walked away as if the man didn't mean a damn thing to me.
"I should have checked on him, sooner and made him go to the damn hospital. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I had," he sighed, voice laced with guilt.
"It's not your fault, Daryl. You didn't know something like this would happen." She looked up at him, her face tear-stained. "Charlie was stubborn. He wouldn't have gone, even if you had threatened to knock him out and drag him there."
"I know," he said after a moment and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair. "i have to tell Merle. He was like father to the both of us."
"Later."
"What?" Daryl lifted his head to look at her.
"Tell him later. Right now, we need to get you out of these clothes and clean you up." She gave him a watery smile. "I'll help."
At his request, she burned his clothes and then, made him sit in a bath full of hot water to scrub the blood from his skin and even picked the remnants of blood under his fingernails.
"You know I love you more than anything, right?" She said and looked him right in the eye.
He gave her a curt nod. "I know. I feel the same."
She leaned over the porcelain edge of the tub and kissed him. "We're going to get through this. I promise."
Afterwards, they watched the bloody water flow down the drain and out of sight forever.
Outside Sarasota Memorial Hospital, Marc Spencer and his wife stood as he left a message for his daughter back home in Georgia. "Hey, Carol honey. Sorry I missed your calls. Sharon's mother is in the hospital and we've been back and forth visiting her there. The doctors said it's nothing too serious. She was just running a high fever and should be released tomorrow morning. We love you and we'll see you on Friday. Don't forget to pick us up at the airport!" With a laugh, he hung up and wrapped an arm around his wife to pull her close and plant a kiss on her forehead.
"What do you say about us going back to the house and relaxing in your parents Jacuzzi? I think that will help you relax, my dear."
Sharon nodded against his side. "Yeah, let's do that. It'll help. It's just that she got sick so suddenly. One minute she was fine and the next, she was passed out in the kitchen."
He kissed her cheek. "She's going to be fine. Promise."
That night, Daryl laid wrapped up in Carol and rested his head on her breasts. That morning, when he had woke up, he hadn't thought things would have gotten so bad. In just a short time, he went from Daryl the Mechanic to Daryl the Murderer. He knew that he hadn't had a choice in putting Charlie down, but it didn't make him feel any better. Now, what was he going to do? Charlie had no other family. Should he go to the police to let them know what he had done? Would they take him away from Carol and lock him up? Just at the thought, he pulled Carol closer, unwilling to let her go. Not even for a moment.
Plus, there seemed to be some kind of disease that was spreading in Florida that was killing people.
What was happening? What happened if there were more of those things Charlie had turned into? What would he do?
The answer came swiftly to Daryl: Protect Carol.
She would be his first and only priority. If anything were to happen to her, he didn't know what he would do. No. Nothing would happen to Carol. Ever. He wouldn't let it. Daryl would kill hundreds of those things if he had to. As long as Carol would be safe. He'd even lay down his own life for her.
Tomorrow, he would go back to Charlie's house, gather up his guns and bring them back to the house. Carol knew how to shoot a gun, any type of gun, because Daryl had taught her and he would make sure that she kept one on her at all times. They would also need to stock up in canned goods. Just in case.
People would think he was crazy, but there opinions of him had never been good before either. He was going to protect Carol and if that meant getting prepared for the fucking zombie apocalypse, so be it.
Thanks for reading!
