Chapter 9

"Daryl, we need to stop!"

They'd been running and running for hours now, trying to reach the black car with the white cross on the back window. The sun had been out for a sometime now and it at been at least an hour since they'd seen any sign of which way Beth's kidnappers had gone. They were drenched in sweat, breathless and in pain, throats raw from shouting their lost companion's name but still they'd been pushing on.

"Maybe you do," he shouted angrily at her for even mentioning the idea of stopping. "But I don't." They wouldn't be in this situation if she'd just stayed with Beth like he'd told her to. If he hadn't relied on her, someone he barely knew, Beth would be safe right now. "It's your fault she's gone!"

Michelle had been trailing back behind him for a while, the weight of her backpack as well as Beth's which she'd picked up, slowing her down, but to hear him have the audacity to say such a thing to her gave her an extra boost of energy and soon she was running next to him again.

"My fault?! You're the one who didn't stick with us, wanting to play the big damn hero," she shouted back, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "If you'd just come along instead of rushing off, I wouldn't have needed to go back and save your ass."

If looks could kill she would have died on the spot for the icy glare in those blue eyes of his. For a second there, she braced herself for the punch she expected to get for her comment, but nothing came of it. Instead, he snarled that he didn't need her help then or now and that he wasn't stopping, although all this arguing seemed to be taking the last of breath right out of him.

She stopped first, falling to her knees as they reached a fork in the road with no way of knowing which direction the car had gone. "You have to," she panted as he kept running, her voice hoarse and her throat burning with each breath. "You have to stop or you'll just pass out from exhaustion or dehydration and then you'll be just a big walkers brunch buffet!"

Walkers. It was the word itself that stopped him, because it was their word, the word Rick had brought to their group when he'd first arrive and that they'd all accepted; she'd always called them, the dead ones until now. It seemed at some point she'd accept it as well, because even if he wished he could deny her right now, she was part of their group.

But, he was still angry at her for leaving Beth on her own though, and mad at the world for allowing someone to take the last member of those he considered his family from him; he could keep running, get away from her and let her fend for herself for what she'd done. And maybe she was right and he would pass out and get torn apart by walkers, but maybe he wouldn't, maybe he would catch up to the car and find Beth. Most likely than not though, he would just end up alone.

You're gonna be the last man standing.

Beth's words echoed inside his head. She'd meant that as a compliment, he knew that, which was in part why he hadn't told her how much that idea terrified him. He'd never been good at being alone, even if it had happened periodically during his life, but the thought of being the last person alive in this world... Well, he didn't think he could handle that. Looking back at the woman panting on the pavement, he turned around, walking back toward her and dropping down on the ground near her. Maybe she wasn't Beth or Carol or Rick or anyone else from the prison, but she was a better alternative to being on his own.

They both sat there in the middle of the road for a long moment, trying to catch their breath. Neither of them spoke until Daryl noticed the small leather backpack that Michelle was still holding on to, her knuckles white around the straps. "I figured she'll probably still want some of the things in there when we find her," she explained as she caught his gaze. "Not sure why she's got cash and jewelery in there, but if it's important to her, I wasn't going to leave it behind."

He was too tired to tell her that he'd been the one grabbing all that cash from the country club, or to explain why he'd done it. But the fact that she'd picked that bag up and ran with that extra weight all this way, just because she wanted Beth to have her things if or when they'd find her, that was something he couldn't ignore. She did genuinely care for Beth and she wouldn't have left her alone by the road unless she really thought that she was safe there. He'd been unfair to her again and, at some point, he'd find a way to apologize. Watching her shiver as she laid down on the cold asphalt, he realized her denim jacket was missing. Had she been running all night in just a t-shirt? Maybe he would start there, finding something else to help keep her warm. For now, at least, he took off his vest and one of the layers he had on underneath and handed the latter over to her.

"Well, lookit here. Isn't that sweet?"

A group of men stepped up to them, surrounding them as one of them, most likely their leader, approached even closer. The man reached out for the crossbow between them and he would have found himself about to lose a finger or two to Michelle's machete, had Daryl not delivered him a swift punch right across the face.

The man fell backward with Daryl nearly on top of him as the rest of the group seemed to prepare for an execution, weapon raised and fingers on their triggers. Instinctively, she stood back to back with Daryl, even though neither her machete or walking stick would do much good against arrows and bullets. She still met the gaze of the men standing before her head-on, not a hint of fear in her dark eyes. If they decided to kill them, she would at the very least try to take a few of them along with her.

"Damn it, hold up!" Their leader shouted, staring up at the tip of Daryl's bolt, wiping the blood from his nose as another the man facing Michelle said something about claiming Daryl's vest.

"...and the girl, I claim her too," the greasy haired man in the hoodie added with a wink and a kiss, his arrow inches from her face. She had to stop herself from shuddering in disgust, clenching her jaw and raising her machete higher instead.

Daryl was certain the man on the ground was off his rocker as he begin to laugh at the blood he'd drawn. This was a bad situation they were finding themselves in, with five men surrounding them who seemed to be following this lunatic. He kept his crossbow aimed at the laughing man's face as he stood back up. As the man talked about respecting him for his choice of weapon, he could fell Michelle's back against his, she wasn't moving, wasn't flinching even a little; she had his back quite literally.

"...you pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop the two of you several times over. That what you want?" The gray-haired man was still talking, still holding his gaze and even if he didn't want to accept it, Daryl knew he was right; they were out numbered, out gunned and far too tired to take the six of them on. It would be suicide to even try and he wasn't about to sign Michelle's death warrant over his decision to punch that man in the face.

"Name's Joe," the other concluded and there was something about Joe, something he couldn't quite pinpoint but that reminded him of his brother, of Merle. Finally, he lowered his weapon, tapping Michelle lightly on the arm to have her lower her own.

"Daryl. That's Michelle."