MIGHTIEST OF GUNS

CHAPTER TEN

The reality of the horrors of Amy's demise didn't fully sink in until Kristen was safely locked inside the SUV with Val. Stroking her sister's dark curls as the young girl slept listlessly, Kristen was overcome with emotion. So easily it could have been her little sister that was lost. So easily Val could have been the one to get up and go to the RV at that precise moment. She could be the one having to put a bullet into her baby sister's skull. She shuddered at the image and for a brief moment thought that she was going to be sick.

She cleared her throat and hardened her resolve. She would do whatever, whatever it took to keep this little girl safe. Her bookend. She let out a deep sigh and Val stirred. None of them slept very deeply anymore.

"Krissy? You awake?" Her voice was soft from sleep and strained from fear.

"Yeah babe, you okay?"

"Amy. And Sophia's dad. And Mr. Jim. Is that going to happen to us?"

Kristen was quiet before swallowing back the lie of reassurance. She couldn't tell Val that they would all be okay, as much as she wanted to. "Remember the time that scary kid broke into the house? Remember how I had you and Liam lock yourselves in the bathroom while Sean and I took care of it? Remember how we took care of you?"

The little girl nodded fervently.

"We're always going to take care of you. Always."

She could barely make out the whites of Val's eyes in the moonlight as the little girl blinked back her unshed tears. The little girl spoke, her voice but a shy whisper.

"But who's gonna take care of you?"

A few hours after the group had scattered about to their own spaces to mourn, Daryl emerged from his tent. The campsite was littered with bodies, walkers and their own. Morning would bring with it the painful realization of their losses and difficult decisions. The bodies would have to be dealt with. Daryl had already begun to smash in the skulls of corpses, in an effort to be absolutely sure, when Rick stopped him – told him to take a few moments to collect himself. Their sentimentality would be the death of them. Daryl tried not to look over to the RV. Andrea remained huddled at Amy's side. They all felt like they were watching a bomb that was waiting to detonate. It would only be a few more hours before the girl reanimated and Daryl just hoped that Andrea would be strong enough to do what needed to be done.

The fire was but a dim flicker yet he could clearly make out Sean and Liam keeping watch.

He was pleased to see that the boys had stepped up in terms of bravery and ability. Sean had proven himself as a decent fighter in the skirmish earlier and obviously Liam had been able to hold his own with his sister at the highway. Although a bit relieved, he sneered at the thought.

He still couldn't process why Kristen thought it had been a good idea to take her younger brother with her and leave. So many things could have gone wrong. What if something had happened to her and they couldn't get back. He wasn't even sure if Liam knew how to operate a car. What if another horde had come through? He would have been happy to go back to the highway with Sean and get her the things she needed. If she could have just been fucking patient enough to wait for him.

Daryl stopped himself. He was starting to sound dangerously overbearing. What right did he have to tell them how to live what was left of their lives? He was past the point now of asking himself why he should even care. The truth was that he did care, there was no use denying it.

The reality was that within the confines of the group, there were smaller social subsets. Obviously families were more closely knit together. Dale, Andrea, and Amy had been a little group. Shane, Lori, Carl. The Peletiers. The Dixons. Now, the Dixon. A conflicted sort of guilt crept up Daryl's spine. He should be going off to look for Merle. But that would be no different than chasing a ghost.

He tried to make himself feel a deeper grief for the loss of his brother. Of course he was upset about it. But it wasn't like a punch to the gut sort of mourning. He was used to Merle vanishing for stretches of time. Military shit, juvy stints, weeklong benders. But he always came back. All he could do was trust that somehow Merle would come back from this too.

Without Merle, his social subset was now down to him. He wondered if that's why his pull towards the McCoys felt even stronger now. Some inherent need to settle himself in with a familiar unit. He never fared as well alone as he liked to imagine. Even more troubling was the question of whether or not they would accept him. Things hadn't started out all that great with the brothers and he knew that Kristen's decisions were intrinsic upon their opinions.

He cleared his throat and made the decision to join them on their watch. He felt strangely shy about approaching them, imagined that this is what it must be like to ask a father's permission to take out a daughter. He had never been the sort of man to bother to ask.

Liam was the first to hear him approaching. The boy may seem slight and quiet, but he had an alertness that could only aid in the survival of his family. He lowered his body slowly to the ground, taking a seat alongside the brothers.

"We have first watch. You should try and get some rest." Sean's voice was gruff but wasn't laced with the usual resentment or suspicion.

"Like anybody here is gettin' any sleep anyways." Daryl glanced around the camp. Things were quiet, apart from Andrea's occasional sob and the quiet banging of the RV door whenever Dale came over to fail at consoling her. But the camp lacked the silent hum of peace associated with rest.

"Sorry about your brother. Wish you guys could have found him." Liam's eyes quickly darted from Daryl's face to Sean's. Daryl was sure that the boy could only imagine how he would feel if faced with the disappearance of his own older brother. But Daryl wasn't 16. In fact, he had nearly 20 years on the kid. If one of their big brothers had to go missing, he was glad that it was his own. He nodded at Liam, an acknowledgement of silent thanks.

Sean cleared his throat, "What do you think is going to happen now? I imagine nobody is going to want to stay here very long. You talk to Rick or Shane?"

Daryl's eyes darkened. The sudden appearance of Rick was still a sore spot for him. Not only because of what had happened to Merle. He wasn't sure if he could trust this new sheriff. Not from a moral standpoint, but from a fear that the man wouldn't be able to muster up the balls to do what needed to be done to survive. The fact that the bodies of the walkers remained unburnt and disposed of spoke to that. If Rick was going to earn his respect and trust, he was going to have to step up.

Shane on the other hand, Daryl could tell that he was a man who wasn't afraid to do what needed to be done. Daryl could also tell that when it came down to it, Shane was the kind of man who would always be looking out for 'number one.' Daryl couldn't blame him, he was sure that he'd be the same way. But it left him with several reservations about putting his blind faith in the man.

He kept those opinions to himself though. "I doubt any of them know what we're gonna do yet. First they have to deal with them bodies anyways."

Sean nodded silently. He spared a glimpse over towards the SUV where his sister's slept, as though making sure that the coast was clear before he spoke. "Kristen wants us to get out of this quarry. She tried to hide it, but she's totally freaked about what happened. I think she just feels guilty that she and Li weren't here when it all went down."

Daryl swallowed hard. As irrationally annoyed as he was with her for heading back to the highway without proper consideration, he was thankful that she hadn't been here. If they hadn't have arrived back from Atlanta when they had, the situation at camp would have been much more dire. And as promising as she had been, swinging the bat with him at the highway – last night wasn't a slow march of targets, it was a bloodbath.

He thought back to their conversation earlier. He had been hard on her, harsh with her. Knowing now that she had been upset, he wondered if he should feel guilty for not being gentler. But he didn't feel a speck of guilt. Being gentle may make her like him but it sure as hell wasn't going to make her any safer. And he knew that if he could only have one, he'd choose the latter.

"Your sister is probably right to be freaked. The way things are lookin', it's only gonna get worse before it gets any better. Y'all need to get serious about survivin'. I know you have a gun but how good are you at shootin'? I got a few more firearms from the Atlanta raid. Soon as we have a plan, I want to get y'all practicin'. Especially your sister."

Liam shook his head. "She'd kill me if she knew I told you this - but her shooting at walkers when we were at the highway? She was so shit. She'd pretty much just close her eyes when she pulled the trigger and hope for the best."

Daryl grimaced at the image. Since the outbreak, it was almost like the world had reverted to more primitive times. He could see it in the group, in the dynamic. Male and female gender roles seemed so clearly defined. The other men in the camp might have been content to take charge of protection and leave the women to cook and do laundry. But he knew that in doing so, they weren't doing those women any favors. If anything, they were taking advantage of their domesticity and leaving them especially vulnerable. He could see it especially when he looked at Lori. Perhaps she wouldn't be so anxious, so overbearing with her fears, if she felt capable of protecting herself and her family. Daryl couldn't see that happening to Kristen, but he was going to do whatever could to help prevent it anyways.

"Yeah well, she knew where the trigger was at least. That's a start." He looked at the brothers seriously. "I already talked to your sister. Next time y'all need to make a little excursion like that, come find me. Ain't worth a whole 'nother family gettin' separated."

x

Morning came as though unannounced. There was no restful respite between the days. As everyone sat still and quiet, the sky eventually lightened and they knew it was time to face the horrors of the night before. Kristen was oddly relieved for it. She had sat up all night in the SUV with Val. She had felt trapped and found breathing difficult. Craving nothing but a bit of fresh air, but she knew that she could never leave her baby sister alone in the car – not after what the little girl had suffered through the night before.

As the men dealt with the bodies, argued over the proper way to handle the corpses, she set about lugging water up from the stream. Pot by pot, she'd boil the water to make it fit for drinking and then pour it into a large plastic storage bin. When the bin was full, she dragged it into the shade in a weak attempt to make it cooler for drinking. She had a feeling that they wouldn't be remaining at the quarry for very long. She knew wherever they were going, they would need fresh, clean water to fill their canteens.

It reminded her of the winter that the pipes froze over. Liam dragged heaps and heaps of snow onto the back porch in his red plastic sled and they had boiled it and used it to fill the bathtub. She smiled softly at the memory. The four of them huddled in their coats in Maura's deserted bed, watching the snow fall. The night sky pink from the moon reflecting off the white earth.

She could do with some of that snow now. Rather than the current scent of burning corpses wafting through the stifling Georgia heat. She scolded herself for being offended by the smell. It was such a petty grievance compared to what others were currently dealing with. She could hardly look at Andrea. The woman's grief was too raw and too fresh. Kristen was sure that she would come undone if she got too close. Kristen was sure that deep down she was as selfish as anyone.

She came upon Sophia sitting quietly alone. The little girl seemed sad in a curious sense, but not in the way that one would imagine a child to grieve for a parent. She understood. She had worn the same expression the night she ran into her mother for the last night. Moreso than grieving the actual loss of your parent, you're grieving the loss of hope. Accepting the fact that it's done now. You've lost your chance of ever having that happy familiar relationship that you've always wished for but never got, and always deep down knew that you would never get. It's a sorry sort of sorrow tinged with relief. You no longer have to put that energy into hope. You're wholly free of it.

She spoke gently and asked the little girl if she wanted to help her with the water. Shyly, yet eagerly, the girl agreed. She knew better than to offer inflated sympathies or condolences. After everything the girl had been through, the last thing she needed was to question herself and her feelings. If anything, the little girl was struggling more with her lack of sadness over her father's passing than any sadness in the first place. What she needed was a chance to move on.

With Sophia's help, the work went quickly. Before long they had enough water sterilized to fill the RV's water tank. She would just have to wait for one of the men to come along to lift the heavy bin to fill it. She knew better than to attempt the feat with Sophia. She could imagine the look on Carol's face if she accidentally dumped scalding water all over her child.

She had caught several glimpses of Daryl over the course of the morning. He and a few of the men had been going around smashing in the skulls of the dead biters. He seemed rougher this morning than she remembered him, more aggressive, more vicious. She didn't know why she felt the need to avoid him. It didn't much matter though, there was so much activity going on at the camp that she scarcely had the time to consider the matter.

It was midmorning when Jacqui came to her. "Thanks for getting all that water. You think I could trouble you to bring some to Jim in the RV? He's been burning with fever since last night. I'd do it myself but I'm going to try and help Dale with Andrea. They're organizing some kind of funeral for Amy…and Ed."

Kristen glanced at the RV and attempted to shake off her fears regarding Jim. She remembered how shameful she felt over her own selfish worries and thought that it was the very least she could do. He was still alive and very human. It wasn't like he was a danger yet, despite the debate going around the group over what to do with him.

"Of course I can, Jacqui. Let me know if there is anything else."

She filled a bottle and a small bowl with water and climbed the steps to the RV. She felt guilty as she averted her eyes as she passed Andrea, felt guilty as she closed her ears to the heavy sound of the single shot, sending Amy into the next world. One that she could only hope was more peaceful than this. Kristen didn't even think that she believed in God. But she believed that an eternity of nothingness still had to be better than becoming one of those things.

Jim was propped up in the back of the RV, red in the face and sweating profusely. Though she had seen the man around camp, she wasn't overly familiar with him. She approached him gingerly, moreso not to startle him than out of any personal unease.

"Hey Jim, it's Kristen. Jacqui had some things to do so she sent me to check on you. I brought you some water. You okay?"

His eyes were glazed over, his speech slightly incoherent. "Pretty girl. You're the pretty girl with the pretty family. Glad they all made it. My pretty girls didn't make it. They…"

His voice trailed off. She tried to cut him off before he got himself anymore worked up. "Hey Jim, it's okay. Everything is going to be just fine. Here, let's get you some water. You'll feel much better after you have a bit of water." She tipped the bottle back to his lips and tilted it gently. Rather than swallowing, the water just ran down his chin. He coughed up a bit of blood violently and banged his arms.

The sudden gesture made her jump but she composed herself quickly. Soaking a rag in the bowl of water, she set to gently dabbing the slightly cooled water on his cheeks and forehead. It seemed to calm him a bit and his breathing evened out.

"Good, you're doing great Jim. Just relax." She continued on, as soothing as she could. So this was how it happened? They bit you and you just slowly wasted away until the infection overtook you. She felt sick to her stomach. Jim's head lulled from side to side. A few times he mumbled distractedly about things that she didn't understand. Something about a boat, a few things about his family. It wasn't fair. Why should Jim have to suffer like this now when he had already been through the unbearable pain of losing everyone. She was opening her mouth to say that she'd sit with him as long as he needed her when the RV door slammed open.

"What the fuck are you doin' in here with him?"

Before she could even process the interruption, Daryl made his way across the RV and had his hand around her forearm, roughly pulling her away from Jim. The action reminded her all too much of the overly possessive boyfriends that she had dumped in the past. Rage consumed her.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that? Get your hands off of me." Violently, she yanked her arm away from him. His brows shot up in confusion for a instant before furrowing as he glared at her. He opened his mouth as though to speak but apparently thought better of it as he stormed out of the RV. Kristen watched him leave, bewildered by the encounter.

She picked up the wet rag and turned back to Jim. "I think that fellow there was getting jealous of me," he slurred.

Daryl flew down the RV steps and headed back to his tent, ignoring anyone who called out for him. Chewing the side of his thumb, he kicked his pack on the ground in frustration. He had been looking out for her, trying to protect her and she looked at him like he was some kind of monster. What was she thinking being in there with Jim now that he was infected. Who knew when he was going to turn? He had half a mind to go find Jacqui and tell her to go deal with Jim but he knew that would only make Kristen angrier. He swore to himself as he began packing up his belongings. He was sure that it was only a matter of time before they were leaving. At this point, he wasn't even sure if he was going to bother going along.

"What the fuck was that?" He had been so distracted in his frustrations that he hadn't even heard her soft footsteps approaching. He tried to keep his angry expression but it turned sheepish.

"You shouldn't be in there with him alone. Nobody should. He's gonna be one of them before we know it."

"Yeah well, he's not one of them right now. He doesn't deserve to have to face this all alone. What would you have me do if you were the one that was bit?"

He looked at her severely. "If I was the one that was bit? If I was the one that was bit, I'd put a bullet in my own brain. Save you the trouble of havin' to decide what to do with me."

"Yeah?" Her anger slightly subsided, "And what would you do if I was the one that was bit?"

His expression softened. He looked at her and couldn't find the words. When he spoke his voice was gentle and so soft that it was almost a mumble. "You're not gonna get bit. Why do you think I got so mad? I'm not gonna let you."

She appeared to blink back a thought before speaking again. "Well, you should still apologize. You were really rough back there."

"If you thinkin' I'm too rough is what it's gonna take you keep you outta trouble, then I can't say that I give a damn."

She took a step closer, her voice serious. "No. I mean it. Nobody talks to me disrespectfully like that. I don't care if it's the apocalypse or not." Her voice took on a more playful inflection. She was finding it difficult to stay angry. "Besides, piss me off again and I'll have to kill you. And then you won't be around to keep me out of trouble anyways."

He grinned lazily at her, half out of relief that she wasn't still angry, and took a step forward, meeting her stride. He looked down on her in an act of playful menacing. "Yeah?"

She cleared her throat and swallowed. A pink blush crept to her cheeks. She was starting to feel flustered and she hated herself for it. She was accustomed to having the upper hand in encounters with males. But here she was, feeling dizzy because this almost stranger was standing too close. She felt a combative urge to step away from him and jump on top of him, all at the same time. Instead, she stood her ground and forcefully replied, "Yes."

He watched the way her lips formed the word, seemingly mesmerized for a number of seconds. He was sure that it was his turn to speak but his voice box had deactivated, his senses in overdrive. His protective urges came accompanied with certain other urges as well. He supposed he wasn't entirely immune to these times bringing up primitive gender roles. Looking at her right now, standing as close as she was, all he wanted was to pull her into his tent. Make her his. Fuck, he was sure that if she breathed deeply enough, her breasts would brush against his chest. He could feel his jeans tightening and knew he needed to halt his current thought process. Almost instinctively he reached out and lightly took her forearm in his hands. The one that he grabbed a bit too forcefully in the RV.

When he spoke, he hadn't meant for his voice to sound as tender as it did. "I didn't hurt ya, did I? I didn't mean to hurt ya." He turned her arm over gently, running his rough fingers over her soft skin. He was fairly certain that she'd get bruises from his fingertips. The thought filled him with shame.

He was so distracted with inspecting her skin and hating himself that he hardly noticed the way her eyes had glazed over. He looked at her for an answer but found her staring at him intently, her lips slightly parted. Not ceasing the movement of his fingers on her arm, he continued. "You just look like you'll bruise like a peach." He could hear the tiniest of sounds in the back of throat. She took a deep breath.

He had been right.

His eyes darkened with lust at the sensation. His grip on her arm tightened slightly and he had to restrain himself from pulling her nearer. Any closer and she'd be able to feel physical proof of what she was doing to him, by not doing much of anything at all.

She spoke for the first time, clearing her throat. Her voice was lower and huskier than he had heard it before. "Maybe. I'm tougher than you'll give me credit for though." Her lips were still parted, her eyes glazed over but smiling.

The corners of his lips tugged at a grin. Tentatively, he ran his fingers down the length of her wrist, tracing her veins with his fingertips. He thought he felt her shiver at the sensation. Watching the expression on her face as he simply touched her arm was intoxicating. As mature as she was, he could feel his decade of experience over her. When she wasn't obsessing over looking after everyone, she seemed so young and soft. Emboldened, he moved his hand from her wrist to her waist. Her eyes widened nearly imperceptibly but she didn't move away from him.

Buried underneath his lust was something tender, something solid. He couldn't quite explain it. He didn't just want to bed her. He wanted to feed her and clothe her, protect her. And not only her, but her family. He wanted her to let him do those things. And the strangest aspect of all: he knew that if he had to choose only one of those things, he'd protect her above all else. It certainly wasn't love. He wasn't even sure if it could ever be anything of the sort. But it was something.

He opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by a voice in the near distance calling to them.

Fucking Dale. He felt a sudden urge to violently throttle the man. Rip his fucking stupid hat to shreds.

He dropped his hand from Kristen's waist and almost immediately she seemed to regain her composure. She seemed embarrassed and bashful. Hardly meeting his eyes and not saying a word, she hurried over to Dale.

He followed closely behind, wondering what had happened.