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Chapter twenty four:
For a moment, everything went numb, the only sound filling the archer's ears being his own thrumming heart beat. The walker struggled, tugging at the flesh of the teenager's arm as his father lunged forward, burying the blade of his knife in the creature's skull before it could tear a reasonable chunk from the boy's arm. Duane was screaming, voice cracking as he gripped his wounded arm, the bite far too up for an amputation to do any good. His mother hurried forward, her own voice edging on hysterics as she held her son close, trying to stop the bleeding with what pressure her own grip could produce.
"It isn't that bad," Morgan tried to argue, noticing Abraham was reaching for his own weapon. "It broke the skin, but it isn't bad!"
"He's a danger to us all," spat the military man. "I ain't gonna let the lives of my family be endangered because some kid-"
"That kid is my son!" Morgan growled, stepping forward to shield his quivering son and wife. "And I'm not about to let anythin' happen to him!"
It was clear the argument was about to become more than confrontational. For the first time since the archer had known him, Morgan displayed an anger like none Daryl had seen. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the grimy knife, eyes fixated on the red haired man as Rosita and his three daughters found themselves nudged back. He could hear Beth breathing heavily beside him, her hand resting on his arm as if she were uncertain what the outcome would be. His own mind raced, hand reaching absently for his crossbow as Rick stepped forward, hands extended as he advanced slowly to the other men.
"He's a kid," the sheriff said slowly. "We bandage him up. See how he holds out. There's enough of us that if somethin'..." his voice trailed off as he caught the horrified look in Jenny's eyes. "We can handle this."
"He's been bit!" Abraham nearly shouted. "You know what fuckin' happens! There ain't no cure! He's gonna goddamn turn and put the rest-"
"You don't know that," Rick argued, though his tone was far from reassuring. "We take care of our own, alright?"
Rick stood unmoved between Morgan and Abraham, the soldier's chest rising and falling heavily as he stared into the sheriff's calm expression. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, the man heaved a sigh. Mouth twisted into a frown, he glanced behind him, Rosita staring back with solemn expression, one daughter in her arms, the other two gripping her pant's legs. They seemed frightened and Daryl could not blame them. When his own father had experienced any sort of rage, he too as a child had been scared. But Abraham, if knowing him vaguely for the last several months, had taught him anything, despite the man's rage, he'd never touch a hair on any of their heads, nor his wife's.
"We'll do this your way," Abraham agreed. "But if shit goes down-"
"I'll take the fall," Rick agreed, his eyes glancing to the other members of the group. "Amy, can you wrap Duane's arm? We should get movin', It ain't safe here anymore."
Dawn had just begun to break over the horizon, lighting the sky in a glow of coral pinks and orange as the group moved onward. Every so often, Daryl found himself glancing back to Duane and his parents. They moved slower than the rest of the group, Jenny's arms wrapped around her son's good arm as they pressed on. The boy seemed pale, tired, but other than that, his outward appearance was normal, arm now crudely bandaged by the makeshift nurse that Andrea's sister was.
"I was hopin' the nausea would settle down once I got past the first few months," Beth's voice murmured, breaking the archer's train of thought. "But I guess my stomach has other plans."
Beth too still sported her pallor features, cheeks a deeper shade of red the further they walked. Daryl's mind, though concerned about Duane, was more focused on his own wife's well being. Beth needed rest. Medicine. And with being in the middle of nowhere, the forest finally breaking into an empty, grass laden field, nothing of the sort was readily available. He inhaled deeply, eyes turning to briefly meet his wife's before he knelt down, adjusting the crossbow so it hung more on the front of his chest.
"Hop on."
"What?" Beth asked, her voice filled with confusion. "A piggyback?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, ignoring the few stares from the group members who noticed. "A serious piggyback, get on."
She seemed hesitant at first, her eyes meeting his momentarily as if searching for any sign that it was a joke. Finally, she relented, gingerly wrapping her arms around his neck as she clambered on. Daryl grunted softly, lifting her up as he locked his own arms around her legs. She was heavier than he had expected, but that wasn't something he felt was a good idea to comment on. Inhaling, he began to walk, following the others as they moved through the empty field, sunlight beginning to heat the air around them.
"It's beginnin' to feel like Texas out here," Eugene muttered, fanning himself with his hand. "Back at base, we scientists had a huge air conditioner. Used to joke that we'd be able to get the temperature in the lab down to below freezin' if we tried. Sure we could too."
"I've never been to Texas," Beth replied when no one else did. "Was it nice there?"
"Little lady, Texas is the only nice place," Abraham grunted, his words seeming almost friendly. "Best part of the south. Everythin's bigger in Texas."
"I can contest to that," Rosita replied, smirking softly as she eyed her husband.
Daryl rolled his eyes, not wanting to even imagine Abraham, or any of the other men in the group for that matter, stark naked. As they continued on, the sun only seemed to get hotter, sweat trickling down the archer's brow as he shifted Beth on his back. Her arms felt wet around his neck, her own perspiration mixing with his own creating the unbearable feeling of moisture and stickiness as they moved through the seemingly endless rolling field.
"We should stop for water," Andrea suggested, her own breathing sounding labored as she adjusted a fussy Thomas in her arms. "The children need it."
"Just a few more miles," Rick mumbled, pointing a head. "I can see a road from here."
"We won't make it a few more miles unless we stop for a drink," Carol rebuked, looking to the unappointed leader in seriousness. "We need to stop."
The sheriff sighed, finally nodding his head in relent as the group came to a halt. Bags and bottles of water were passed about, some tasting of dirt and pine needles as most were collected from the previous night's rain. Beth slid from Daryl's back, a hand resting on her swell as she sat down beside him, drinking a few sips before passing it to her dehydrated husband. As Daryl drank, he noticed Jenny and Morgan sitting a little further from the group. Duane leaned against his mother, eyes seemingly heavy as his breathing continued laboriously.
"How's he holdin' up?" The archer questioned, looking to the other man.
"Hangin' in there," Morgan replied, his hand resting on his son's knee. "He's a strong boy. Duane's been through worse. Had pneumonia as a toddler."
Daryl nodded, knowing that Morgan knew well enough that this disease was nothing to compare to the other. He turned back to Beth, his eyes meeting his wife's as she passed him a small bag of nuts that had been handed about the group. There were only a few left, Beth's palm only holding around five or six herself. He merely shook his head, muttering for her to take his portion as he glanced towards the thin, winding road off in the distance. Maybe there was a car or a bus that still had gas. One could only hope.
"You need to eat."
Beth's voice filled Daryl's ears. Though her tone was soft, it still held a reasonable amount of seriousness. He turned, eyes falling to her hand where she held out a few almonds. They certainly weren't much, a mouthful at that, but the protein was good enough to give anyone that slight boost they needed. A boost that Beth needed more than he did. He frowned, shaking his head as he went to adjust his crossbow strings.
"Ain't hungry," he muttered. "Heat gets to me easily."
"Which is all the more reason you need somethin' in your system," she argued. "It isn't much, but we all need to eat."
Daryl exhaled, frowning as he accepted the small handful of nuts from his wife. "Don't like em anyway," he muttered, tossing the stale bits into his mouth.
They sat in silence for a little while longer, only to have it interrupted by the sounds of Duane's heavy breathing. He slumped against his mother, eyes barely open as Jenny held him close. His skin had turned a sickly shade of white against his otherwise dark complexion. Saliva crusted itself around the corners of his mouth as he lulled in and out of consciousness. Rick looked to the parents in empathy, inhaling deeply as he opened his mouth to speak.
"No," Morgan interrupted. "He's fine, we just need more time-"
"Morgan," Rick said quietly. "He's just about gone."
Daryl felt Beth's fingers tighten around his own when Jenny let out a pitiful moan, arms tightening around her dying son. Tears slipped down her cheeks, her body trembling as she held the boy close, shaking her head. Morgan's own eyes watered, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line as he looked from his wife and only son back to Rick and the others. It was clear he understood, despite his desperate desire not to.
"He's gone," the sheriff repeated quietly. "He won't feel a thing."
Morgan merely shook his head. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't...you can't expect me to..."
"I'll do it," Jenny's voice replied, the woman peering up with a tear streaked face. "I'm his mother. It's only right that I..." her voice trailed off, the woman swallowing hard. "I want to do it."
Rick nodded, fumbling around to locate his gun. With Morgan's help, Jenny stood up, Duane limp in her arms as she carried him further off from the group. Daryl tried to advert his eyes, not wishing to watch what was about to occur. Gingerly, as any mother would, Jenny laid her son on the ground, Rick's gun trembling in her hand. Even at the distance she was, Daryl could see her reconsidering her actions. Slowly, she raised the gun up, Daryl adverting his eyes to meet Beth's as he waited for the gunfire.
"Jenny!" Morgan cried out, causing Daryl to turn.
To the archer's horror, the end of the gun was now pointed into the woman's mouth. Without warning, she pulled the trigger, the gun dropping from her hand as she crumpled onto the ground in the nearby distance. Daryl looked on in complete shock, Morgan's cries of despair sounding distant as he looked to the spot where the once lively woman stood, body now resting beside her dying boy.
"Oh god," Beth whispered, her fingers tightening around Daryl's. "Jenny, no!"
Morgan was on his hands and knees, fingers digging into the dirt as sobs racked the usually calm man's body. Daryl looked on, unable to move as Beth now stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder as they watched the scene unfold. None of this was fair. The whole world had gone to shit and after coming so far, so damn far, Morgan had lost his entire family. A rattling breath escaped the archer, Beth's fingers gripping his shoulder.
The circle of life was nothing more than a shit of an idea. Something that only now, Daryl Dixon was beginning to realize.
So yes, I sort of got Jenny's death idea from the Walking Dead game series for those who have played. I won't say which scene for those who wish to play (which I highly recommend). I have a lot of bethyl planned for the next chapter as well as some time passing (it's about time we moved further along into Beth's pregnancy). So feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Keeps the updates coming! Let me know your thoughts! Until next update, folks! -Jen