Entry #10

It started raining right after we'd finished eating, put our fire out, and buried the last bits of evidence of our presence. The droplets were small and intermittent at first, and for a second, I couldn't tell if it was rain or my own sweat that was makin' my skin wet. But then they started falling faster, and grew into real raindrops, pelting my face and dampening my hair. I chanced a glance upwards and saw the sky had gotten ominously dark. The clouds were covering the sun, but it still forced its way through to shed light in every possible space. As if to answer my questioning gaze, a clap of thunder echoed above us, followed by a bright flash of lightning. The rain had brought a drop in temperature with it and I'd ended up putting on my new gray cardigan right after finishing my half of cooked rabbit meat. I hugged it closer to my body as the water chilled my skin and began following Daryl's lead. We headed out toward the road again, searching in all directions for any signs of Walkers or other living people. But it seemed like we were alone. For the moment, at least.

The thunder rumbled above us every few minutes accompanied by lightning flashes. Once or twice, I caught a shockingly bright bolt of lightning emerging from the sky and reaching down toward the earth off in the distance. I wondered if it had struck any trees. Then I started thinkin' about how I'd seen a tree back at my farm catch fire once when I was little after it was struck by lightning in the early morning hours. Luckily, it was put out before it could spread, but it could've burnt our whole barn down and then some.

Of course, I guess it's all burnt down now anyway, huh…?

I didn't mind walking in the rain. Even though the random gusts of wind chilled me to the bone and the rain plastered my hair to my neck and my forehead, it felt refreshing in a way. A nice break from the heat and humidity and constant sweating. I barely noticed the bandage wrapped around my head anymore, but I caught Daryl glancing at me and looking worried from time to time. I saw his eyes inspecting the black cloth and the lump on the back of my head that was still thoroughly covered. Eating must've helped my condition because my head wasn't pounding quite so hard anymore. It was more of a dull aching that started in the back of my skull and webbed out to the rest of my head.

Daryl seemed like he was enjoying the relief from the heat, too. He didn't seem to mind the rain falling on him, although he was lookin' at the sky precariously, as if he expected something worse to show up. The lightning flashes were coming more often now, and I started wondering if we should get out of the open and away from so many trees. I mean, I know it's not really likely that we're gonna die from a lightning strike out here, but you just never really know. There's so many more ways to die now, especially since doctors and medical supplies are so few and far between. Walkers aren't even my worst fear anymore. Even though my head was feeling better, the injury was still prevalent in my mind. I couldn't shake the fogginess from my head, and as we walked, I realized it wasn't the chill that was making me shiver – my hands and arms were shakin' and I didn't know why. I gripped my knife with one hand and a strap of my bag with the other to try to steady them, but it wasn't working. I didn't say anything to Daryl. He had enough to worry about.

The rain wasn't letting up. In fact, it was only coming down harder, turning into sheets of cold rain, pelting us with water. During the worst of it, Daryl slowed until we were next to each other, then ushered me to a canopy of leaves beneath a large tree where we found just a few inches of dry coverage.

"Ain't safe to be out in this," he grumbled as we squatted next to the tree in a sad effort to get dry. "Need to find somewhere to lay low till it passes. We're too vulnerable out here. Not enough visibility in this shit."

I knew he was right but I had nothing to offer in suggestion. I felt useless. I was trying relentlessly to clear my head without his knowing, but nothin' seemed to be working.

"Beth…"

I had zoned out for a moment without noticing. I looked at him, his eyes dark and full of worry as they stared into mine. He was trying to see past them, figure out what was goin' on in my head.

"Should we try to go back and find the truck?" I couldn't think of anything else to suggest. We hadn't seen a house or shed or anything for miles.

He was still staring at me, searching my eyes for a clue. He spoke slowly, suspicion heavy in his voice. "No… too far back now, it'd be pointless… Are you sure yer okay?"

His question caught me off guard even though it shouldn't have. "Of course – why?"

"Yer back. Seemed like you were pretty hurt when we were huntin' that rabbit. Lemme look at it," he said.

Relieved that he wasn't questioning my mental state, I nodded and took off my bag, turning around and slowly lifting my shirt. I winced as it crossed a large spot on my lower back and caused me a little pain. It was true, my remarkable shot at the rabbit and the prospect of fresh meat had distracted us both so much that we'd totally forgotten about whatever injury was on my back that had made me cry out in pain. Besides, nothing felt broken and there was no blood, so I hadn't bothered to worry.

I shivered, but not from cold or rain this time, as his calloused fingers traced the sore area of my back, lifting my shirts just a bit more as he examined it fully. He tested a couple of areas to see if I reacted or not. Goosebumps formed all over my body.

"Bruised. Bad. Made what you already had even worse. Couple cuts, too, but it should be alright as long as there ain't nothin' internal bleedin'," he concluded, carefully sliding my shirts back down and picking up my bag to hand it back to me.

I sighed and took the bag, putting it back over my shoulders with caution as I tried to avoid my sore lower back. "Oh, great, so it's a roll of the dice, huh…"

"Ain't everythin'?" Daryl mumbled, shooting me a look and then standing back up fully to gaze around the tree and examine our surroundings.

He had a point. I didn't reply.

"Think I saw a mailbox less than a mile up the road," he said, squinting into the distance. "Can't see it now, but I know it's there."

I looked in the direction he was staring and saw absolutely nothing but rain up ahead, and before that was only more deserted road. But I trusted him. Maybe I would've spotted the mailbox, too, if my vision were working right.

"Try to make a run for it?" I proposed.

He furrowed his brow at me. "Nah. We'll walk. You don't need to be runnin' just yet."

I shrugged, but he was already diggin' through his bag and pulling out the crumpled ball of shirts from earlier. The remaining shirts were just as dirty and grungy as the one he'd put on, and when he untangled the bunch and handed a stained, red one to me, I stared at it in my hand blankly. It took a few seconds before I realized he was planning on using his as protection from the rain. I followed his cue and held the shirt up and over my head, but I think he saw my moment of confusion. The shirts, however old and smelly, proved to keep off enough water from our heads and faces that we could see better as we walked down the road, and we sped up our pace in anticipation of spotting the mailbox. We tried to each keep our sight on one side – he took the right while I kept my eyes on the left. The woods were especially dark and shadowed beneath the downpour and the clouds, and it was anyone's guess what could be lurkin' between the trees without being heard.

I'm gonna sound like a broken record, because once again, I don't know why I did this or how my mind didn't register what I was doing. I turned my head towards the right and started watching Daryl's side, even though he was already keeping a sharp eye on every angle. I broke my attention away from the left side and left us vulnerable. I couldn't hear anything except the rain hitting the shirt above my head and the ground all around me. I got lost in my own thoughts again, almost forgetting where we were trying to go. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, and out of nowhere.

I spun my head around to make sure we were still safe from the left side of the road and the dark woods that encompassed it. But I found the worst sight – a drenched and rotting Walker had spotted me, and was just inches away from reaching me with its long, bony arms. I hadn't noticed its growls through the pelting rain and repeated thundering that polluted my hearing. I dropped one hand to reach for my knife out of habit, lettin' out a small yelp of surprise that Daryl probably couldn't hear. My hand had caught on one part of the wet shirt and one side of it fell forward instead of back, heavy with water, and stuck to the side of my face, blockin' my view of the Walker. At the same time, its sharp nails had dug into the fabric of my bag and it was pulling me off-balance and back toward it. I quickly shoved the shirt off of my head and away from me while I pulled my knife from its holster and wielded it. But the Walker was fierce, stronger than me with its animal-like hunger, and pulled me back harder.

Then the whole world tilted around me. I felt as if I were on some nauseating ride at the carnival. I completely lost my balance, as well as my sense of what was up or down. I would normally have been able to keep my balance and throw the Walker's grasp off of me, or at least used it to my advantage to kill it. But the foggy feeling in my head had drastically escalated and morphed into a terrible case of vertigo. I couldn't keep my feet steady, or keep my head from tilting every which way. And I especially couldn't stop myself from being pulled backward by the Walker.

I reached out desperately and shoved the walking corpse away from me as I fell, but my strength was misguided and hard to aim, and it proved only to make the thing stumble before it regained its footing and stepped toward me, ready to kneel down and bite into my skin. As ridiculous as it sounds, this Walker had better balance than me.

I fell to the ground with a hard thud, grateful to the stuffed bag on my back for cushioning my fall and saving my bruise from more damage. I looked up to see the Walker about to sink down in front of me and lay its teeth into my leg, so I kicked out as hard as I could, aiming for its flimsy knee. The world tilted around me again and I suddenly had the strong urge to lean over and vomit right there.

I couldn't even get my bearings before a bolt appeared in the air and sent the Walker to the ground almost immediately. Just as I was processing the image – and trying to turn my head to look for Daryl, although it wasn't really workin' since I couldn't even remember which way was the right way to turn – I felt a pressure on my arm and then I was being lifted up to my feet as if I weighed nothing. Once I was standing upright again, I realized how dizzy and light-headed I actually was, and I couldn't stand up on my own. Daryl must've already known, though, because he held me up beside him almost effortlessly, his crossbow held tight in his other hand. I saw something move from a couple yards away, although I had no idea which direction it came from, and then Daryl was turning me around and rushing me forward, away from whatever was comin' close, even though my feet weren't doing any of the work of carrying my weight. I had to shut my eyes tightly to stop the spinning and keep myself from retching everywhere, so I couldn't see any of what was happening. But I felt a lot of jerky movements and heard Daryl swearing under his breath, then I heard the unmistakable sound of the crossbow firing another bolt. Then all I could hear was the rain around me again.

"Beth – Beth, can y'hear me?!" he was practically yelling right into my ear and I flinched away, the loud sound hurting my head.

I nodded but kept my eyes shut. "I think I'm gonna be sick – I'm sorry – "

"Shut up, ain't time fer that," he snapped. "Found the mailbox, and there's the house, just gotta get ya there, alright? Can ya walk? Don't puke on me."

It was a lot to take in and I couldn't quite process it all, but I finally opened my eyes and looked forward. Just ahead, in my blurry vision, I could make out the dark shape of a large house. It seemed so horribly far away at the time. I didn't know if I could make it that far. But Daryl kept pushin' me forward. I insisted on tryin' to walk myself, but I kept getting overwhelmed and had to give in to being motionless in order to keep myself from falling into blackness or losing all the food left in my stomach. Daryl had the crossbow back over his shoulder and was using both arms to carefully support my weight as he practically carried me down a long, sodden driveway.

All the grass and bushes were overgrown and unkempt around us, and while I was trying to blink my eyes open and focus on anything at all, I was gazing downward and noticed there wasn't a single tire track in the dirt below us. It had been a long time since anyone had driven up here. I hoped the house was empty – of people OR Walkers. I just wanted to lie down somewhere dry and safe. I wondered if Daryl would let me nod off for a bit.

After what felt like an eternity, we were finally stepping up onto a porch. Daryl stopped at the top of the stairs and helped me sit down carefully against the wooden railing. I managed to stay stable enough to support my own head and keep myself in a sitting position, for the moment.

"Just wait here, I'm gonna make sure it's clear an' then I'll get you inside. Holler if ya see somethin'," he instructed. I nodded in understanding and forced myself to keep my eyes open and watchful.

It only took him a couple of minutes to pick the lock of the front door, enter the dark house, and create enough noise in the entrance room and the living room to draw out any Walkers. His rhythmic bangs sent vibrations though the porch and my body. I waited, listening closely. Nothing. He made more knocks on the hard walls, stomped the floor a few times for good measure. Then silence. Suddenly, there was creaking coming from the floor above. The house was old and obviously in disrepair, and nearly every movement made a sound that reached clear outside to the porch when the door was open. Daryl was still and silent as he listened to the creaking sound slowly move from one end of the ceiling to the other, and when I looked over, I could faintly see him with his crossbow ready in his hands, stepping lightly across the wooden floors toward the staircase. I turned away and kept glancing around me at the darkness of the yard. Before long, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a Walker shuffling down the big staircase inside the house, all growls and rotting stench. It didn't sound like it'd reached the bottom before Daryl had silenced it with a single bolt.

He waited another few moments, even going as far as to take a glance inside all of the ground-floor rooms, even though it was very dark inside the house with barely any sunlight and no electricity to fill all its corners. He wouldn't have been able to see much of anything except the outlines of furniture and a Walker approaching him. But it seemed that the only one in the house was the one that had been upstairs.

He was suddenly beside me again. I'd shut my eyes for just a second, but he was grabbin' my arm and shaking it. "Beth – Beth!"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him in confusion. I forgot where I was for a moment. "Wha – "

He was already hoisting me up to my feet, but before I could try to stand, he swept my legs out from under me and lifted me up in his arms, cradling me. I felt weak and powerless, but I leaned into him anyway. I rested my head on his shoulder as he rushed me into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. He carried me across the dank and dusty entrance room into the living room directly ahead, then over to a long couch that was pushed against a wall and facing a large window on the opposite wall. He gently set me onto the cushions and slid his arms out from beneath me, grabbing a throw pillow and dusting off one side before he propped my head up with it. He slid my bag off my shoulders and out from under me, then set it on the floor next to the couch.

I relaxed into the blissful softness of the old couch. Dust and mildew tickled my nostrils, but I was just grateful to be somewhere dry and comfortable. I tried to keep my eyes open but I was fighting unconsciousness every second. Daryl thrust an open bottle of water into my hands and helped me lift it to my mouth to take small sips.

"Shit, I dunno anything about concussions 'cept not to let you sleep for a while," he was grumbling. I didn't know if he expected an answer or if he was thinking aloud. "Shoulda listened to Hershel more…"

He was holding the water bottle between both hands and kneeling beside the couch, staring at me. His brow was furrowed in concern and he was studying every inch of me, like he was searching for a problem he could fix. I met his gaze and stared back at him blankly, trying to make sense of the words coming from his mouth.

"Who?" was all I could think to say.

His eyes suddenly grew dark, like the clouds that had covered the sky outside. He set the water bottle down and grabbed me by the shoulders, then moved me into a sitting position almost forcefully. I was staring directly at him, not even a foot of space between our faces, his hands gripping my shoulders. I couldn't figure out much in my head, but I could tell he looked terrified… of something.

"Beth. Are you okay?" His words were firm and clear, but his voice shook. I couldn't think of a word to use in reply, so I just continued staring. "Beth. Talk to me. Say somethin'. Anything."

I blinked, but my brain wasn't processing. All I could think of was the loud pounding in my head, and the way my stomach was still doing flips.

"C'mon, Beth… It's me. Don't you know who you are? Who I am? Tell me where we are, Beth," he insisted. His eyes were getting watery, and I saw his lip starting to tremble, but none of it made any sense to me.

A few out-of-order things bubbled up to the surface of my brain and I knew that I was conscious and aware of where I was and who I was, but I just couldn't get my brain to tell my mouth to work. Even writin' about it now, I'm so confused and honestly, a little scared. I've never had a concussion before, and I've never heard stories from anyone that described it like this. I wasn't sure if I'd ever come out of it. It felt like I couldn't get any part of me to work right.

Finally, I pushed past the knot in my throat and found whatever it was that would make my mouth move. "Georgia. Daryl. I'm okay."

My voice sounded foreign to me, and I wanted to tell Daryl everything was fine and that I'd be okay, I just needed a nap, but my voice refused to leave my body.

He sighed, relaxing just slightly at my words, but still looking worried and on the verge of tears. "Ya ain't alright. I dunno what to do… Beth, I'm sorry, I dunno what to – how to help you. I don't know how I can fix this…"

I watched him bite back his despair and I could see his mind working a mile a minute inside his head, tryin' to figure out how he could get me back to normal. I think I felt as helpless as he did.

I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply. I tried to focus. I managed to say out loud, "Food."

When I opened my eyes, he had let go of my shoulders and was clumsily rummaging through his bag. I heard what sounded like sniffling noises between the clinkin' of cans and rustling of clothes and plastic. In seconds, he pulled out a can and cut it open with his knife, then held it out for me to take.

The prospect of food made me able to force my arms out and take the can in my own hands. I instinctually began digging in with my fingers, shoving the cold beans into my mouth relentlessly. I felt ravenous, and even after the first few bites of food, I was beginning to feel better and like my stomach may finally come to a rest. I was focused on nothin' but eating until over half the can was gone. I must've looked a lot like Daryl and how he eats as I was feedin' myself.

It didn't take me long to reach the bottom of the can, and once I had scraped every bit of food I could find into my mouth, Daryl took it from me and set it aside. He handed me an old shirt without a word and I cleaned up my hands and face with it. My arms were weak – and so was the rest of my body – and it was exhausting just holding the light cloth up to my face. When I finished, I dropped the dirtied shirt to the floor and let out a relieved sigh. The vertigo seemed to be gone for the moment, although it liked to come in waves, and my stomach was finally settled. I slumped backward and stretched my legs out once more. The combination of the soft couch cushions and the sound of the rain pelting down from outside enveloped me in comfort. My eyes fell shut in seconds. I felt like I hadn't slept in a year.

"Beth."

I opened my eyes again at the sound of Daryl's low voice, tense with concern. I turned my head just slightly and looked at him, but his eyes were averted downward and away from mine.

"You – know who Hershel is… right?"

My lids had drooped down again and there was no more fighting the deep, dreamless sleep that overtook me. The last thing I remember is tiredly mumbling, "My dad. He's gone now."

-E.G.