Chapter 11

Daryl drove down the road, not going particularly fast. He knew going fast meant more noise and more noise meant more walkers would hear them. He glanced over his shoulder at Beth in the back seat. She had passed out almost as soon as he had pulled the car out of the garage and onto the road. He had made sure her legs were covered protectively with his vest. As he looked at her, he noticed a bruise beginning to form on her upper arm. It seemed like every time he looked at her, he could see more damage.

"Almost there," he whispered.

He applied a little more pressure to the gas. He nearly wept with relief when he saw the cemetery appear in front of him and the funeral home just beyond that. He knew the house had walkers he hadn't been able to kill, but it was the only place he could think to bring her. At least he knew there were medical supplies and food. He would just have to deal with the walkers first.

Daryl slowed as he approached the house. The front door was wide open as he had left it. That wasn't a good thing. That meant any number of walkers could be in there. Daryl grabbed his crossbow from the front seat and double checked to make sure his knife was securely at his hip. As he went to open the car door, he heard Beth moan.

"It's ok, Beth," he said.

She opened her eyes, taking a moment to focus on what was going on. She tried to sit up, but immediately collapsed back down again.

"Don't try to get up," Daryl instructed.

"Wh...where are we?"

"Back at the funeral home. I'm gonna clear the place of walkers then come back to get ya."

"No, Daryl, it's too dangerous."

"It's the only option, Beth."

"Let's just drive."

Daryl shook his head. He had thought about it. He had wanted to drive off as far as they could go, but the gas tank was only a quarter full and there was no telling what would be waiting for them if they ran out of gas. Besides, although he didn't want to say it out loud, he was still hoping that others from the prison had gotten out safely. He didn't want to go too far away.

"There are supplies here, Beth. Things we need. We gotta patch you up and get you better."

"I...I'm fine," she said weakly, trying to sit up again, but failing miserably.

"Just stay, Beth. Stay in the car. I'm gonna lock the doors. There's a knife right by your left hand and the gun is on the floor."

She felt around until she could feel the handle of the knife. She grabbed it, clutching it between her fingers.

"Daryl, this place could be overrun. You can't go in there alone."

"I'll be fine."

"Daryl, please…"

He knew she was scared. Not of just being alone in the car, but of losing him. If he didn't make it out of that house, she had no chance.

"I'll make it, Beth. I promise."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," she said.

He leaned over the front seat and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be back. Keys are in the ignition if you need to…"

"You'll be back," she repeated, interrupting him.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and got out of the car. He gave her one last look before approaching the house cautiously. As was customary, he stood outside the door and banged against the side of the house. His hope was that if there were any walkers inside the house, they would be attracted to the noise and would come out. That way, he'd be able to shoot them right in the doorway without even taking a step into the house.

Three walkers did just that. They went staggering through the front door. Daryl took the knife out of its sheath at his waist and took all three walkers down before they even saw him. He waited another minute for any other walkers to come out, but none did. Taking a deep breath, Daryl entered the house.

With his crossbow leading the way, he made his way from the hallway into the first room. He knew the walkers who had attacked him were locked in the basement. They weren't smart enough to figure out how to open the door so at least he didn't have to worry about them. What he was worried about were any other walkers who had wandered in. The first room was empty where he and Beth had spent their first night so Daryl made his way next into the room. It was the room with the dead body in it. The one the funeral director had obviously made up to look like an actual person and not a walker. There was a walker, standing in front of the coffin. If Daryl didn't know better, it almost looked like the walker was paying its respects to the dead walker in the coffin.

Daryl shot the walker from the doorway, the arrow going right through the back of her head. She crumpled to the ground and Daryl went to retrieve his arrow. He went through the rest of the rooms on that level. As he got closer to the basement stairs, he could hear the walkers from the basement. He knew there were only a few left. He had killed most of them. Even though there was no way they could open the door, he still grabbed a chair and propped it against the door handle. There was no way in hell he was going to let anything come up those stairs.

Even though he knew it was less likely to have walkers upstairs because of the staircase, Daryl did a sweep of the upstairs rooms. The bedrooms were exactly as he and Beth had left them. He made his way back down the stairs, making as much noise as possible. If there were any walkers left, he wanted them to hear him. He waited. Nothing happened. He took one last quick look around. It could never hurt to be too cautious.

Feeling confident that he had secured the place, he went back outside. Beth was standing outside the car, leaning on the hood for support. She was balancing on her one good foot, her knife in her hand. Daryl could see the blood dripping off of it. There was a dead walker on the ground at her feet. The gun was in her other hand, but she hadn't used it.

"Beth!" Daryl yelled, running towards her. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and forced her into a hug.

"I'm ok," she said.

He finally let her go. "I told you to stay in the car."

"I saw the walker headin' straight for the house. I didn't want you to be surprised if it got in and found you."

"You should have stayed in the car."

"I'm fine."

"You can barely stand."

Beth couldn't deny that. Her foot was throbbing, with every move she made her ribs were hurting, her head felt like it was about to explode, and then there was the fact that she wasn't really wearing any pants. Daryl's vest had slid off her and was lying on the floor of the backseat. Her tatty t-shirt and her ripped underwear that she had managed to tie on so that at least they stayed up was the only thing she had on to cover herself. Beth felt herself lost her confidence and her body began to crumble.

"I gottcha," Daryl said, catching her before she fell. He picked her up bridal style. She didn't protest. She simply let him take her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and allowed him to carry her inside and up the stairs. He went right into the girl's room and laid her on the bed. He immediately covered her up with the red blanket from the bed. He took the gun and knife from her hands and placed them on the bedside table next to the bed.

"Tell me what hurts," he said.

"Everything," she answered.

"Beth…"

"My foot. If it wasn't broken before, it is now."

Daryl cringed. Had it been his kick that had broken her foot? Was he the reason for her pain?

"Beth, I'm so sorry. If I…"

"Don't. You got me out of there. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead…or worse."

"I'll always come for you."

She managed to smile at him weakly, but even that hurt.

"My ribs...I think they're broken. It hurts to breathe."

"Broken bone could be pushin' on your lungs."

"You think my lung could be punctured?" She asked, looking up at him with her doe eyes.

"If it was, you wouldn't be breathin' anymore."

"There's a...a gash on my back. He broke a bottle and used it to…" She didn't finish. The memory hurt too much.

"I'm going to get some of the supplies from downstairs. I'll be right back."

Without giving her time to respond, he headed out the door. He closed it behind him, but didn't move. He needed a minute. He leaned against the door and sank down to his knees. How had this happened? How had he let it happen? She was hurt, physically and emotionally. The physical things would heal. He would do everything to patch her up and help her heal. But emotionally, emotionally, Daryl didn't know what the hell to do.

After another moment, Daryl took a deep breath, picked himself up, and went looking for the supplies he and Beth had stored in the kitchen. He grabbed the first aid kid, a jug of water, and a towel before going back up to the room. By the time he entered, she had fallen asleep. He knew she was exhausted and her injuries were only making it worse.

Letting her sleep, Daryl focused first on her foot. He felt around, poking and prodding her foot, hoping he wasn't causing her more pain. The good news was, he couldn't feel any protruding bones. That probably meant the foot was fractured. The only way to heal it would be time and keeping it still. Since putting it in a cast wasn't an option, Daryl looked around. He stood up and went over to the little girl's desk. After rummaging through a few drawers, he found two rulers. He grabbed a pair of scissors and one of the girls' T-Shirts from her closet. He cut the T-Shirt into strips. Then he placed each ruler on the sides of Beth's foot. He tied the strips of fabric tightly around her foot and the rulers, giving her as good of a splint as she was going to get.

Satisfied, Daryl began to look her over. He lifted her shirt slightly so he could see her ribs. They were badly bruised. She was most likely right. They were broken. He could also see a trail of dried blood coming from her back. He knew rolling her would cause her pain, but he had to see how bad the wound was.

He moved her a little, rolling her so she was more on her side. She groaned in her sleep, but didn't wake up. That was probably for the better. As he lifted her shirt further up, Daryl saw the cut she had told him about. There was a cut about four inches long running down the spine of her back. As he began to clean it, he realized it was jagged. Even if she hadn't told him, he knew it had come from a broken bottle. He grabbed a piece of white gauze and medical tape and bandaged it up the best he could. What she really needed was a hospital and proper medical supplies, but that sure as hell wasn't an option.

After finishing with that wound, Daryl rolled her back onto her back. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and continued to inspect her. Aside from other cuts and dozens of bruises that ranged from, she had no other major injuries. There was nothing else he could do.

He watched her sleeping. Her breathing was labored, her brow scrunched up with worry and pain. Even in her sleep she seemed to get no peace. Daryl knew there were things he should do. He should probably go around the house one more time to make sure it was safe. He should figure out a plan to get rid of the walkers in the basement because, even though they weren't an immediate threat, it was never a good idea to have them around. He should check on their food and water supply and think about going to the lake to get more water to boil. He should be thinking about where they could go on a quarter tank of gas. Instead of doing any of those things, though, he sat and watched her. He couldn't help it. He never wanted to take his eyes off of her again.

Daryl laid back on the bed, leaving space between them. He wanted desperately to hold her, but he didn't want to cause her pain. He rolled over on his side so he was facing her. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. As he did so, she scooted just a little closer to him. He wondered if she was awake, but her breath was still ragged and slow and he could tell she was still sleeping. It was as if she could sense him next to her, however, as she reached an arm out. Daryl closed the gap, placing his arm lightly over his hip. Her head found his right arm and she rested her head on his forearm. She sighed and Daryl could see the lines starting to disappear on her forehead. The idea that he could make her feel less pain comforted him. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall asleep.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I loved writing this chapter. Please don't forget to review…they really do make me happy!