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"People writing songs, that voices never share. And no one dare disturb the sound of silence."- The Sound of Silence, Simon and Garfunkel
- Nicole POV-
Silence is a virtue. It's a skill that takes practice and patience. It requires a level head. You need to pick your battles, to choose whether or not you want to speak, to open up about how you feel, to get involved. In most cases, I chose silence over words. It was safer that way.
People had always been surprised by my silence. After meeting my brother, they figured I would be the same way. Loud, brash, stubborn. But I wasn't, at least, not usually. I kept to myself most of the time, not wanting to get involved in other people's business. It was their problem, not mine. Trust me, I have enough baggage of my own.
As I stood here, staring at Lori while she ate, I couldn't help the words that were forming in my head. I am quiet, but I am not stupid. I see things. I catch onto things. I pay attention. I had only been here two days, and a few things had become painfully clear.
There was something going on between Rick and Shane. They had been best friends before this all happened. They were partners. Now, they barely spoke. And when they did, their words were forced. It was mostly Shane. He was snide and malicious. He would glare at Rick behind his back, staring daggers at him. I know my brother. He's not normally that way.
And I knew exactly why he had changed.
"So, how long were you and Shane hooking up?" I threw it out bluntly. No use in sugar coating it. If I knew one thing about Lori, it was that she would do whatever it takes to defend herself. Lori dropped her fork on her plate, turning to look at me with wide eyes. I would have laughed at the expression on her face if I hadn't been in such a serious mood.
"What the-" she turned and looked around, making sure that no one was near. We were alone by the house. "What the hell do you mean? How dare you accuse me of something like that." Her eyes were narrow, her voice like a low hiss.
"Puh-lease." I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "I've seen the looks you two share. You too are cold as ice to each other, but I can tell it's all because of the sexual tension. You glare at him, he glares at Rick and Rick hasn't done anything wrong!So tell me, how long have you been sleeping together?"
Lori glared at me. She stood up and walked closer to me. "You listen here Nicole. You can't just walk in here and start accusing me of things that you can't back up. A lot has happened in the past few months." She snapped. "Things...transpired."
"Yet, you haven't denied it yet." I smirked. "So tell me, how long?"
She looked down at her feet, knowing that she wasn't going to convince me otherwise. After a moment, she spoke. "Since it all started, right before Atlanta was bombed."
"While your husband was in a coma." I added. Rick was my friend. I had known him since I was about 12, when Shane became my legal guardian. He was an amazing friend, and I didn't take kindly to one of my friends being lied to, even if the lying was being done by one of my other friends. I was going to protect him.
"You listen here." She whispered in a deadly tone. "I thought he was dead. To me, he was gone forever. And, as soon as Rick came back, I ended it. Okay? I ended it. I'm not some cheating whore. It's over. Your brother just needs to get that through his thick skull."
"Obviously Shane's not okay with that." I rolled my eyes, twiddling my thumbs in my pockets. "He's still in love with you Lori. And he hates Rick because of it. It's not Rick's fault. It's yours. Own up to it Lori. It's up to you to fix the mess you created. Those two can't make rational decisions for the group if they're at eachother's throats." I said the last part firmly, trying to insure that Lori heard. She looked away from me, her eyes hard with emotion, looking slightly sick, and I knew she had heard my words. She knew I was right. When she didn't answer, I smiled, knowing I had one his argument.
I stood up and walked away from the stunned woman. I was a quiet person. It wasn't that I was afraid of speaking. I just chose my words carefully.
I walked over to the camp. There were people there. Dale was sitting in a lawn chair, arguing with the blonde woman, whose name I learned was Andrea. She looked pissed, and he looked exhausted. Carol was with Beth, Maggie's younger sister, who was a few years younger than me. Carl was sitting by T-Dog. Hershel had finally decided that he could rejoin the camp.
Yesterday, Rick had explained to me what was happening. He told me about waking up in the hospital, the quarry, the CDC, Sophia- the lost little girl, and how they were staying at the farm, still searching for her. Although, the only one that was really searching now was Daryl, the crossbow wielding lone wolf I had met by the well. The one who had spied on me while I was with Carl.
These people seemed nice enough, but I still didn't trust them. I was new, an outcast. My brother was a loud mouthed loose cannon. They all were expecting me to act like him.
I decided to head off into the woods, do a little hunting, maybe aid in the search for the little girl, anything to keep me occupied. If it wound up helping the group, great! Mostly, I needed to not feel useless. Rick had suggested that I help Carol with the laundry, but he quickly took it back, knowing I detested domestic tasks like that. I would much rather go hunting than clean. He knew that.
I walked over to my tent. I had set it up slightly far away from the rest of the people's. My bow was lying on the ground, just outside the door. I picked it up and swung it over my shoulder. Bows were not common weapons. Most of the time, people used guns and knives, both great choices, but there were certain times when a gun was too loud, but you were too far for a knife. That's when the crossbow came in. It was good for long range use, and almost completely silent. Plus, the ammo was reusable, unlike my guns. Luckily though, I and enough ammo to last me quite a while.
I strode down to the woods, the dry grass crunching under my boots. I breathed in the dry Georgia air. It had been so long since I had gone hunting, well, for animals anyway. I was strangely excited for the chance. When I entered the forest, I was stunned by the utter silence. No moaning, no crunching, no talking. Nothing. I was all alone.
I knelt down, getting closer to the forest floor. I saw some small tracks in the dirt, a few crushed leaves scattered around. A rabbit. My brain told me. I smiled. I was good at hunting rabbits.
I followed the trail through the forest, deeper and deeper into the trees. This little animal was not necessary for survival. It was not a matter of life and death. This animal was just something I Had to catch. I had to show myself that a few things in the world were still working. Hopefully my hunting skill was one of them.
After about ten minutes of tracking, my perfect silence was destroyed by a loud crack!
The noise came from behind me. I tensed quickly, my shoulders raised. I lifted my bow slowly, loading an arrow. The noises continued, steadily getting louder and louder. I turned slowly, my bow up, ready to shoot whatever came at me.
I can tell you, I wasn't expecting what I saw.
In front of me was none other than Daryl Dixon. He was wearing his normal getup, but he was dirty and sweaty as hell. There was a bloodstain on his pants, which meant his leg was bleeding. He was limping, and he had a little blood on his side. He was stumbling around wildly, breaking branches and scattering leaves. And, was he talking to himself?
This had me concerned. From the very little time I had seen him, and the little I had heard about him, I could tell that he was a very skilled hunter. The first rule of hunting- stay silent. He most definitely was not.
"Hey." I called softly to him. Apparently, he hadn't realized my presence, because, at the sound of my voice, he swung his bow over his shoulder and loaded an arrow in less than 3 seconds. He was looking around wildly, trying to find the source of the noise. Finally, his hard gaze landed on me.
"What are you doing out here?" He grumbled, lowering his bow. I did the same, carefully taking the arrow out.
"Figured I'd hunt a little, look for the little girl. You?" I raised an eyebrow at him.
"More of the same." He shrugged.
"You okay?" I asked. He looked at me quizzically. "Your leg. You get but?" I tensed, my grip on my u loaded bow tightening,
"Nah." He shook his head. "I'm fine. Just a little accident. I'm gonna keep lookin, if you'd do me a solid and stay out of my way." He turned to stalk off, but as soon as he took one step his leg gave and he fell to the ground. I ruchsed over to him, leaning over him.
"You sure it's nothing?" I smiled a little. Men were always trying to be so tough. Why couldn't he just admit he was hurt? I knelt down beside him, reaching for his leg. Quickly, he pulled it away. I laughed at this. "I'm not gonna kill ya, ya big wuss. I'm just gonna check it out." I grabbed his leg, keeping a strong enough hold so he wouldn't pull away. Carefully, I rolled up his pant leg, revealing a bloody...was that a stab wound? "What the hell happened?"
"Got shot with an arrow." He grunted. I cocked an eyebrow. How many people out here used bows? Not many. He was hiding something. "Fine. I accidentally shot myself with my own arrow." My eyes widened, and I had to control the urge to laugh. Big, burly, brooding, experienced hunter Daryl Dixon shot himself, with his own bow. It was so….ironic. "I fell down a hill when a walker came out of nowhere and I lost control. You happy?" I nodded, rolling the fabric back down.
"It doesn't look too deep. You may need a few stitches, but you'll be back on your feet soon enough." I stood up, wiping the dirt off my pants. "But you may need a little help getting back." I extended my hand towards him. He just stared at me like I was trying to hand him a live bomb.
"What?"
"Look man, I know you wanna act all tough guy and everything, but if you don't let me help you, you could end up seriously damaging your leg. Now, if you could swallow your pride for a few minutes, then we can get you back and put this all behind us. Okay?" That shut him right up. Reluctantly, he grabbed my hand. His eyes widened as I pulled him off the ground. I guess my strength surprised him. I wrapped an arm around his body and helped keep him up by his underarm. He let his arm rest across my body, on my shoulder.
Slowly, the two of us trudged along, neither of us knowing what to say. The silence was..awkward, to say the least. I just kept my eyes forward, focusing on the task at hand. A few times, I shot a few glances in Daryl's direction. A couple times, I caught him looking at me from the corner of my eye, every time, though, he would look away quickly,
After what seemed like hours, we hit the edge of the tree line, the farmhouse visible in the distance. In my mind, a screamed with joy. I couldn't wait for the awkwardness to be over. I saw two figures running towards us quickly. It was Rick and Shane, both having their guns raised. I let Daryl go, and he did the same to me. We had to explain what had just happened to these two.
When they finally got close to us, Rick lowered his gun, but Shane kept his up, still aimed at us.
"Get that thing out of my face." Daryl grumbled. I chuckled a little.
"Sorry," Rick spoke. "From a distance, we thought you were walkers."
"That's twice you've pointed that thing at me." Daryl motioned to Shane. "You gonna shoot me or-" A gunshot split the air, and the next thing I knew, Daryl was falling to the ground. Instinctively, I caught him by his armpits and set him down gently, his head in my lap. I examined his body for any gunshot wounds. The bullet had grazed his side, knocking him out for a moment. I sighed in relief. It wasn't deadly.
I heard screaming as Rick and Shane knelt next to me. I looked up and saw Andrea and Dale running towards us,
"Oh god is he dead?" She was screaming, her eyes wide with worry. A shotgun hung at her back. So she had shot him.
"You just grazed him." I reassured her. "He should be okay. We need to get him back to the house." Carefully, Shane grabbed Daryl's legs, and Rick and I got his head and torso.
It was at that moment that Daryl woke up. He looked around wildly for a moment, before his eyes landed on Andrea. His lips curled into a sneer.
"You crazy bitch!" He yelled. "You could have killed me. You're lucky you're such a shitty shot. You could have-" His screaming continued as we carried him towards the farmhouse. Hershel was on the porch, by the door.
"What the hell happened?" Glenn ran out to meet us with Maggie at his side.
"Andrea shot him." I grunted, readjusting my grip on his shoulder. Glenn and Maggie shared a look of utter shock before looking at Andrea, who was still screaming behind us.
"Get him inside." Hershel instructed. We did as we were told, laying him down on the bed that used to be Carl's. Carefully, Hershel removed his shirt. Daryl grimaced as the fabric brushed past his wound, but he did not say anything. He was trying to be emotionless. I only noticed because I had been watching him intently. His eyes made contact with mine, and I quickly looked away.
"He also has a puncture wound on his leg." I said, standing up. "It's not too deep, but I think it needs a few stitches. Not much bleeding, missed the nerve." The old man turned and looked at me.
"Thank you Nicole." He sounded impressed. "You have good instincts."
"I was pre-med before all this started." I explained. "Spent most summers volunteering at hospitals and clinics. I picked up a hint or two."
Hershel nodded at this. "You know how to stitch?" He asked, referring to a wound. I nodded. "Good. While I tend to this, you get the leg."
"Really?" I asked, surprised. He trusted me enough to do this? Daryl seemed surprised too, because he was looking at Hershel like he was crazy.
"You are a capable woman, and I have other matters to attend to. Do it." The way Hershel said it, I knew it was an order, not a suggestion. Patricia brought me a suture kit and gave me a reassuring nod. I took the tools in my hands.
"We're gonna go deal with Andrea." Rick said slowly, before walking out the door, followed by a silent Shane. Soon, it was just me, Daryl, and Hershel in the room. Hershel was cleaning the gunshot wounds me carefully, I got to work on sewing up his leg. If it hurt, which I knew it did, Daryl didn't let on. He just stayed silent, his eyes trained on my nimble hands, grunting occasionally.
It was then that I noticed the tattered doll in his hands.
What had he actually been doing in the woods?
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