Christmas
Chapter 10
On the eve of Christmas, we all gathered around the table to enjoy the divine and savory meal that Willow and I have prepared for us. We enjoy the venison that I tracked and killed yesterday, potatoes we've grown outside the bunker and red wine that I brought back weeks ago on the scavenge run. I haven't seen so much food on a plate since before the outbreak. I almost feel overwhelmed by the amount of cuisine in front of me. Little after the outbreak I started to view food as nourishment and a life source rather something to be savored and enjoyed.
I take a sip of wine. The bite of the alcohol had the perfect balance with the succulent sweetness. A few years ago I would have thought the taste was acrid, almost vingery. But now I fancy the bitter taste. With one taste, Willow's face went from curious to disgusted. I laugh as she rises to make some tea. I let my eyes meet Daryl's.
For the past couple of weeks, its been like this. Subtle brief eye contact, our fingers touching lightly, small pecks he steals in the woods and the hasty stares at my ass. One night, while Willow slept, I snuck into his sleeping bag. We did nothing. I just listened to the soft beating of his heart. It wasn't about romance or affection. I don't know if I am even capable of love. Deep down I needed to know that this is real. That this all wasn't a dream. I needed to know someone was going through this with me.
Either of us don't really know what is between us. Confidently I can say we trust one another with our lives.
I take another sip. Willow has cut Daryl's hair in the past week. It's short, about an inch long. His hair is now lighter and almost makes him look boyish. I don't think he notices it.
"I wish we had a piano. Ireland is really good." Willow remarks. I blush in always makes me sound a lot better than I really am.
"Is that true?" asks Daryl. I shrug.
"I was okay, I guess." I say. Willow raises her eyebrows.
"Was okay? Ireland was the best player at her high school. I bet if we had a piano that she could play without a flaw." she says. That wasn't true, there was this other player, Veronica Leon. She played wonders. If was as if she was apart of the piano. She never played with a imperfection. She was the best. Was. She probably didn't survive. She probably is dead just like that life I once had. My smile fades.
"I was okay." I repeat.
* * *
I have been drunk two times before. At a graduation party from cheap beer and wine from a box. Another time was after boot camp from Norwegian vodka and malt liquors. The occasional slurred words made Willow giggle.
"You're drunk." She laughs. Daryl must be used to something stronger like moonshine. But I could tell he was a little fuzzy.
"Just in time, the bottle is empty." Daryl says.
"That's okay there's another bottle" I say. Daryl laughs. When I rise to go get the other bottle, Daryl stops me. I stumble and fall into him.
"Seriously?" He says. I glance down at my feet and then gaze back up.
"My ankle is… um." I start.
"It's already healed. I think you'd better call it a night." He says. I start to feel a little warm. My eyes widen and I shake my head. Suddenly, I know I am about to throw up. I turn my heal and run to the exit. A few feet from the bunker, I vomit.
Immediately upon I am finished, I feel loads better. There's a rustle in the trees. Wind most likely. I couldn't tell because everything was spinning. I fall on hard on the ground.
It must've been thirty seconds until I came back to my senses. That's when I smelled it, smoke. When I stood, I almost fell back to the ground but a nearby tree caught me. Then I saw where the smoke had came from. The bunker was engrossed in flames. I run. They could be in there.
As I jump down, I try to dodge any fiery blaze and I am most successful. I see Daryl unconscious on the floor. Willow is nowhere to be found. She must've looked for me when I was throwing up. I lift Daryl and put his arm over my shoulder. I cough as the smoke infests in my lungs.
It takes forever to lift him up the ladder. With cries of pain and struggle I finally get him up to safe ground. I glance back the bunker. My eyes notice my bow and sheaf of arrows and Daryl's crossbow. We are sure as dead without them. I convey a flustered sigh.
Quickly I snag the weapons and sprint to the ladder. When I get to Daryl I notice a small gash on his forehead which must be the reason he is unconscious.
"Daryl! Daryl wake up. Come on Daryl!" I say gently tapping his face. I then suspect the worse and my heart drops. I place my head against his chest. A strong but faint heartbeat pumps against his chest. He wakes up dazed.
"He took her." He whispers. His voice is raspy from the large amount of intake of smoke.
"What?" I say.
"He took her. The hunter. He took Willow." He says. It feels as if gravity's unyielding pull on me tighten it's hold.
"Go." He says. I give him his crossbow. "I'll be behind ya when I get my footing. Go!" he yells. If it was anyone else I would have stayed with him. But this was Willow, sweet Willow. I turn my heel and run. I am gone in a matter of seconds.