I helped pack the guns away when I got back to camp, and T-Dog left me to it when someone asked for his help. They counted the bullets and ensured all the guns were back when we returned, so I gave Rick the Beretta and joined. I didn't know what a lot or a little was, but Rick didn't seem happy with the number.
He told me that bullets run out quickly in training, which was believable, especially with me wasting all the ammo. I had it all laid out on the bonnet of the car, the hot metal burning my skin as I leaned on my elbows.
I started with the long guns. Rifles? Shotguns? It meant nothing to me; I only knew the essential difference between them from what I learned in video games. I didn't know how to use them, and it wasn't one of my main goals to learn about them.
As I finished working, a boot nudged the back of my leg, a thin layer of dirt grabbing onto my legs, just under the light blue dungarees I had on. I looked down at the back of my calf and then up to see Daryl. He was standing behind me with his crossbow hanging over his shoulder.
"Hey, do you need something?"
He wasted no time getting to the point. "Still wanna kill some walkers?"
I stared at him for a moment, wondering whether or not he was being serious. Why was he offering? He avoided the question so heavily the last time I asked that I assumed my idea was entirely off the table.
Honestly, I hadn't even remembered I asked until he mentioned it again. After Rick taught me to shoot, I felt comfortable using a gun to kill the walkers. They were always far away, and I never had to worry about them getting close. That seemed to be my main issue; I knew I would freak out whenever a walker got close to me.
Daryl stared at me, his face expressionless as he waited for my answer. He had his crossbow out and was ready to go. I assumed he wanted to look for Sophia anyway and was just asking as a courtesy.
I was still unconvinced. "You're going to teach me?"
"Gotta learn at some point."
I wondered whether this was true now that I knew how to shoot. Daryl knew how to shoot; I had seen him many times, but he still opted to kill walkers silently, which was the main problem. They had to be killed silently because if we shoot the guns, we can never be sure there won't be a herd around.
"Okay, just let me finish this."
Daryl nodded and leaned against the car next to me. All I had left to do was pack away the handguns.
That was when I saw it again. I didn't recognise it at the shooting range, one I hadn't seen before around camp. I still didn't know who it belonged to, which was only a tiny part of this mystery.
I turned to Daryl. "Who's gun is this?"
"Otis'."
He looked like he had more to say, but I knew Daryl Dixon well enough now that he wouldn't say another word without the right questions.
I pursed my lips. I should have asked how it got here, back to the farm, but I doubted that Daryl would have had the answers I was looking for. He wasn't even here when Shane returned; he came to the farm the following day.
"Oh," was all I could think to say.
I put the gun in the bag, still raking my mind for any more information. When he returned, I didn't see the weapon on Shane, but maybe I missed it. Maybe Otis left the gun in the car when they went to school.
But when Shane spoke at the funeral, he said he and Otis were down to side arms.
Does that mean handguns?
"Okay, I'm done, I guess," I said after finally putting the remaining guns in the bag.
"Go git ya knife and shit," his head nodded toward camp.
I nodded in agreement, rushing to my tent to get my things. Grabbing my emptied yellow bag, shoving my half-full water bottle inside. I grabbed my holstered knife from the ground, shoving it in my back pocket.
Daryl had said last time we went out that it wasn't worth shit being kept in my bag, so I was sticking with his advice. That's what today was about anyways, so it was very pointless keeping the knife hidden away in my bag.
While packing my things, I wondered whether I should get my gun just in case. I decided against it, knowing that if I had a weapon, it would probably be my first choice when killing a walker. I needed to know how to take one down silently.
I walked back to where I had left Daryl waiting, and I heard him audibly scoff as I neared. His eyes did the signature roll that happened whenever I did practically anything wrong, "Ya kiddin' me?"
I frowned. "What?"
Daryl reached out, slipping a finger under the strap of my bag and pulling it away from my shoulder. "Ya really need this?"
"What's wrong with it?" I questioned.
"I's a lil' bright," Daryl grumbled.
Daryl probably wanted to be a little more inconspicuous in the woods, and the bag did not entirely blend into the forest all too well, I had to admit. But I wasn't sure why it mattered that much, sure we may be seen easier by walkers, but that was kind of the plan. And it's not like it would matter that animals saw because we weren't going hunting. Unless Daryl wanted to do some hunting, he was bringing me along just because. Maybe. . .
His complaints meant nothing to me, though, because I was bringing my bag either way. I just looked at him and smiled, "I like it."
I could tell he was visibly holding back an annoyed groan, "Okay, sunshine."
I heard Daryl call people sunshine as a threat before, but this one was not directed as a threat but more of an acknowledgement of the colour of the bag. It was funny to me that it annoyed him so much, which also meant that there was now no way I was ever getting rid of the bag for something less inconspicuous. He would have to put up with it.
Daryl turned to the gate and walked away without another word, leaving me jogging to catch up with him. He closed the gate behind us and started across the fields towards the woods a couple of hundred metres away.
He didn't speak as we reached the woods, which didn't surprise me. Compared to Merle, he was reticent, and sure he had his outbursts and moments where he argued with the group. Still, generally, he just didn't really speak as much. Merle was really chatty, on top of the constant outbursts and arguments.
It was only around ten minutes when I realised we hadn't stopped. Daryl's eyes peered around the woods, presumably looking for a walker. And it hit me. We hadn't stopped, hadn't spoken, hadn't come up with a plan or talked about what I should do when it came time that I would have to kill a walker.
He just expected me to kill one.
I glanced over at him. "So we're just going out and finding a walker and killing it?"
Daryl already seemed done with my shit. "Ya got a better idea?"
"Well, seeing as I've never held a knife or, you know, killed a walker or anything," I rambled, finally deciding to stop and take a breath. "I don't know; some instructions would be nice."
He scoffed, keeping his eyes ahead. "This ain't fight club."
"We're not supposed to talk about it."
I had hoped my joke would warrant any reaction from him, but he kept walking like I hadn't even said anything. That was probably one of the best jokes I'd ever told, yet I wasted it on someone who doesn't even have the capability to smile. That would be my new mission; I would get Daryl Dixon to smile.
"What?" I questioned. "You're just going to throw me in and not show me anything?"
Daryl stopped walking, and I heard him audibly huff. I could only smile at his reaction, knowing now that he would give in and teach me how to kill walkers rather than just throwing me into the deep end.
Usually, I wouldn't try being this annoying to get what I wanted, but I couldn't just go straight up and kill a walker, knowing that one mistake could kill me. If death can be avoided, I will take every step to ensure it doesn't happen.
"Git ya knife out."
I nodded, pulling the knife out of my pocket. His eyes wandered around the area for any sight of walkers. When I had done what I was told, I stood there and looked at him, waiting for the following instructions.
When his gaze returned to me, he frowned. "The hell are ya doin'?"
"Daryl, I am standing here holding a knife. If there is something wrong with this, you have to explain it because I have no idea what the fuck you want me to do," I was joking, but the point still stood. If he wanted me to do something in a certain way, he would have to tell me because I was at a loss.
Daryl blew a sound through his lips, trying to hide the fact that he would smile at my reaction. Instead of telling me what was wrong, he grabbed my wrist, twisting the knife in my hand so the point was facing down and the bladed end of the metal was pointed towards me.
I enjoyed how sick of me he was already; we had been out for fifteen minutes.
"Ya gotta hold it like that," he stated.
"Why?"
His glare shot up to my face to see me grinning at him, and instead of answering, he just rolled his eyes.
"It's a genuine question," I clarified.
"Jus' the best way," He stated simply. "Ya wanna do this, or not?"
The smile dropped from my face. "Of course."
"Then just listen," he said.
Knobhead. I huffed, crossing my arms, now very aware that I was still holding the knife when I felt the blade touch my skin. My arms flew back down to my sides.
"With a walker, ya gotta go for the head," Daryl explained. "It's the only way they go down. Just swing ya knife as hard as ya can because ya gotta get through the skull."
Makes sense. I was pretty clear on the destroy-the-brain rule, but I was the one that had been asking for instructions, so I was going to stand here and listen to everything.
"Tha' means you gotta be able to reach the head, but you're a short ass," I frowned, looking down at the ground, but Daryl kept talking. "So ya gotta get 'em down to ya height. Swipe their legs from under them, like this—"
I didn't even see it coming.
The screech rocketed out of me as my feet flew up, and I fell backwards. Daryl gripped the top of my arm as I fell, stopping me before I hit the ground too hard. I landed with a thud, and Daryl let go of my arm.
"Ow!" I groaned, pushing myself to my feet. "What the hell?"
"Need another example?" Instead of laughing, Daryl just smirked at me.
I jumped backwards. "No!"
His smirk did not complete my mission to make him smile. It had to be proper. Also, I had to cause a smile, not by him tripping me up. That seemed against the imaginary rules I was making up in my head.
I guess I was asking for some kind of instructions, but now I was sure that the only reason he agreed to that was so that he could trip me up. At least he was having a good time, I guess.
"I could have hurt myself, you know," I told him.
"You're fine."
"I was holding my knife; I could've hurt myself."
"Ya didn't, though."
He was right, but I wasn't happy about it. When he caught me, he caught my arm, which had the knife in it and held it away from my body as I fell. Even though my falling was his own fault, I was glad that he didn't let me stab myself with my own knife. It seemed like it would be easy for me to do.
"Okay, ya good?" He asked. "Can we move on?"
"Yes," I nodded. "We can keep looking for walkers now."
"Good."
He swung his crossbow over his shoulder and started walking away in the same direction we had been going before.
I decided it was probably best to leave any other questions to myself, knowing that he'd either walk us back to camp or trip me up again. The back of my dungarees was covered in dirt—again.
I was getting sick of washing my own clothes.
Instead of risking another attack from Daryl, I thought it'd be best that I walked in silence. What he told me made sense, that I was short, so I had to trip the walkers up to get control of the situation.
That's what I needed to do. I had to take control of the situation and make sure that there was no way I would be overpowered or taken by surprise. It's just like anything else I had to do; I had to make sure that I was in control, or everything would fall into chaos. I'd seen how things had plunged into chaos already, which meant I should know how to avoid it.
To my surprise, we did not have to travel much further before finding one. The humid air stunk of rotten flesh, turning my stomach sick. Daryl seemed unaffected as he raised his arm and pointed out the walker that should have been oh so obvious with the horrid smell.
It was standing with its back to us, shoulders jerking in some tranced state. It looked asleep, but it wasn't, it couldn't be. It was dead. He was . . . he used to be a tall man, tall and lean. His jeans were covered in dirt, and the blue flannel was dyed red from the bite mark on his neck.
Daryl nodded his head, signalling for me to take it down. It shouldn't have been a surprise, this is why we were out here, but you can never underestimate how stupid I could be sometimes. Daryl was here to help me, and I wasn't going to waste his time by not killing the walker, so it was decided. I had to kill the walker.
Unsure of whether Daryl was walking over with me, I glanced back, and sure enough he was only a few steps behind me. I didn't know whether to feel comforted that he was joining me, or whether it was just because he didn't trust that I wouldn't get dead. Either way, Daryl was here for the ride, whatever happened.
I moved quietly, knowing that any sound would be dangerous right now. The walker may have looked asleep, but it was always listening. If I fucked up, it would know, and the dead man towered over me.
From my crouched position, I would be overpowered easily, and I was sure that even though the walkers could move, the dead weight would still be present in their bodies. Moving dead weight . . . strange.
SNAP!
It spun around faster than lightning, and I couldn't stand up before it lunged. The back of my head hit a tree root, but that didn't stop me from digging my palm under its chin and pushing the face away from my own. The knife was still in my other hand, but I couldn't bring my arm around to end the walker. I let out a strangled cry, pulling my knee up between us to push the corpse back.
There was an awful squelching sound, and the body fell still. Blood curled down the walker's head, running from a wound that had been made by a knife. The heavy weight was lifted from me, and there was a thud as Daryl threw the body to the side. He grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet in one motion.
"Ya bit?" He frantically brushed the dirt from my arms and shoulders, looking for a bite mark or blood. "Scratched?"
"N-no," I shook my head. "No, I . . . I'm fine."
And just as I had estimated, everything fell into chaos the minute I fucked up. That was not a good example of how to control a situation. All my confidence I had built up before was now shattered, and the plan I created had fallen to pieces.
I was embarrassed more than anything.
Daryl exhaled deeply, standing up straight. "We should head back."
"No!" I exclaimed loudly. Daryl just stared at me, and I released a slow breath before speaking again. "Not yet! I have to kill one, I need to know how. I just—please, I have to try again."
He was going to make me go back, there was no way he wasn't. I had basically begged for him to teach me to kill walkers, and on my first go I fucked up and almost died. He didn't want to stand there and watch me get myself killed, he probably had better things to do right now.
"Stepped on a twig, that's why it heard ya," Daryl said. "Gotta watch where ya goin'."
"Oh."
It was later in the afternoon by now, and I was panting and sweating already. I could feel the exposed parts of my arms and face burning again, and I regret never asking Glenn to look for sunscreen. With my heritage, I obviously burned more quickly than everyone else.
It took longer to find a walker this time, but we did.
Unfortunately.
I could already tell it was a woman this time, still much taller than me. And like the last one, she was unmoving. Maybe this happens when they don't get any external stimuli for a while, they could just shut down.
I didn't wait for Daryl's go-ahead this time. I just walked forward, my knife in my hand, and I continued on until Daryl stopped me, "Remember, watch where ya step."
I nodded. Repeating the instructions I was given in my head, I silently ensured I would not mess up like last time.
Go for the brain.
Take it down.
Watch where you stop.
I was not crouched as low as last time, but my eyes barely left the ground, so I knew where I was stepping. Occasionally I glanced up to ensure the walker was still in the same place, but I was not stepping on twigs or anything. I would not let myself. There was no way it would hear me walking over.
Still, I was scared shitless. I was before we started doing this, but since one was almost dying, it was different now. I wanted to back out, but it was too late. It's not like I could tell Daryl to do it. Instead, the walker was right there in front of me. It would hear me eventually, which meant that my hesitation was dangerous.
I acted quickly, digging my foot into the joint of its knee. The walker dropped to the ground in front of me. I knew the temple to be the weakest part of the skull, but at the moment, the bottom of the head gave more access to the brain from my position. So, that was where I aimed. I pulled my arm back and across my face so the point was facing the walker and swung it forward with as much force as I could muster.
I hated the feel of it. The feel of shoving a knife through skin, the little bone, and the brain. I hated how awful it felt to do something like this to something that looked humanoid; to something that used to have family and friends. I internally cringed, but the walker fell to the ground in front of me, unmoving.
"I did it," I muttered quietly.
Daryl nodded. "Yup."
He seemed so nonchalant, not that I expected him to be proud. He kills them daily; it's nothing to him anymore. I didn't have much pride, so I couldn't blame him for just seeing this as another day.
"Does it get easier?"
Part of me wondered if he would even understand what I meant. It was not easy to kill a walker in any sense, but I was talking about the guilt and how wrong it felt to kill something that looked so human. I knew walkers were dead; I knew that. But it felt like murder, so much more than I expected it would.
Daryl just looked at me for a second, then his eyes turned to the walker. "Sorta."
I wasn't sure that was true because it was so hard. Maybe it did get easier, but I'd only know if I kept killing them, which I didn't want to do anymore. Daryl was strong, maybe it's gotten easier for him, but I was not that tough.
"How do you do it?"
"Jus' gotta tell yourself, if it were the other way 'round, the bastard wouldn't hesitate," Daryl explained. "It's just somethin' ya gotta do. Life or death."
I nodded.
It was like what Shane said, but less stressful. But now I realised that it had to be done. It had to be done for the safety of myself and everyone I knew, and cared for. If a walker had the chance to kill any one of us, it would. That didn't make it evil or maniacal; it just wanted to eat, for want of better words, to survive. But we also wanted to survive, and if killing walkers, who couldn't feel anything, was the only way to do that, then it was something we had to do.
It felt awful doing so, disrespectful to someone's past life, but corpses never used to come back and try to eat us. We had to change what we believed to be right because the world had changed. That is how it was now, and we had to kill walkers to ensure we could live.
Daryl stared at me for a moment before nudging the top of my shoulder. "C'mon, we'll find another. Keep practising. If not, we'll come out and look tomorrow."
️There were no more walkers, so we just returned to camp. We had been out for hours anyway, and it became clear to me that I didn't actually tell anyone that we were leaving. Maybe they noticed, maybe not. It was always a gamble, really.
Rick was walking around when we got back, just doing a patrol of the fence. "Where have you been?"
"Walking some trails," Daryl shrugged. "Killed a few walkers?"
"Both of you?" Rick questioned.
I only nodded.
I waited for Rick to start lecturing, but he didn't say anything. His gaze switched between Daryl and me, but he remained silent. I could tell he was worried, and he probably realised that we were gone, and the fact that he wasn't bringing that up was a mystery.
Daryl turned to walk into camp, and I went to follow him.
"Ace!" Rick called me back.
I spun around and walked back towards him. "Yeah?"
"Just—" his gaze moved to the side, and the worried look on his brow turned into one of scrutiny.
I knew what he was going to say, and I agreed. He wanted me to make sure that I say when I'm leaving, or I just don't tell the group. Either way, I understood where he was coming from and agreed with every unspoken word. I didn't tell anyone I was leaving because I was excited to learn to kill walkers, but in hindsight, I should have said something.
"You aren't my kid, and I can't tell you what to do," he started, "but just let me know if you leave again. I do trust that you don't go anywhere alone. I do. But if anything happens, and we don't know you're gone—"
"—I know," I nodded. "I should have said something."
Rick gave a nod. "Okay. Thank you."
I only gave him a smile as I turned back into camp to put my things away in the tent. Daryl had left, he probably didn't want to stick around when Rick called me back. Not that I blamed him. If it were anyone else, like Lori or Shane, he would have been accused for taking me out. That would have been utterly wrong, and yet I could visualise it so perfectly in my head.
I looked around for Shane's car as I passed the vehicles, but it was still gone. He was still on the run with Andrea. It was taking longer than expected, I think; not that I had any way of telling the time, but me and Daryl were gone for hours.
After putting everything away in my tent, I walked through the camp to sit with some people around the RV, but something stopped me. I saw Glenn sitting outside his tent, in one of the camping chairs he had taken from the middle of the camp. His head was resting in his hand, and he was only staring at the farmhouse. He didn't even seem to realise as I walked up to him.
I remembered that he lied about learning mechanics with Dale that morning. I wanted to confront him about that, "How was it learning mechanics?"
Glenn was immediately nervous, not looking at me. His eyes went straight past me as I stood in front of him. He nodded and looked back down at the stick in his hands. "It was good, yeah."
"Yeah?" I questioned again.
He nodded quickly, his eyes flying up to meet mind only for a second. I was having too much fun with this. I should have believed him when he told me he was terrible at lying, because if he was acting like this around Merle he would have outed me in seconds.
I felt my head nod as I thought about my next question. "And . . . and how do you clean a spark plug?"
"What?"
"That's what you were learning about, right?" I questioned. "I wanna know how you clean a spark plug."
Glenn gulped. "Don't you already know."
"I know," I smirked. "I just wanna know if you know."
"Well, I . . . Dale went on about spark plugs, and I didn't really hear a lot of it. Just how they work, and . . . and some other stuff," he explained. "But . . . I-uh—"
"—Glenn, you're not even trying," I rolled my eyes. "You've forgotten. I've seen the epic struggle of the-big-bad-redneck-gets-his-bike-fixed-and-I-can't-tell-anyone."
Glenn exhaled through his nose, covering his face that was slowly turning red. He dragged his hand down his face and looked up at me, "If you knew something was going on, why would you let me go on about spark plugs?"
"Seemed like you had some kind of idea, thought maybe you even rehearsed," I explained with a grin. "Seemed rude to not even give it a chance. I had no clue you put literally zero effort into any of it. Lesson one to lying Glenn, you actually have to try."
"How'd you know something was wrong?"
"You said you wanted to learn mechanics, and asked Dale," I dragged out his name. "You're literally the only person that knows I'm a mechanic, and you didn't ask me about mechanics."
Glenn nodded, but he seemed really upset about the whole situation. I don't know whether it was because he lied, or because of the secrets he was trying to keep, but I didn't like seeing him sad. I stood at his side and dropped down next to him, sitting cross legged on the ground next to his seat.
"And, T-Dog asked you what was up this morning and you said 'nothing, nothing's up!'" I tried copying his tone, how he said it to make him laugh. I was happy when my terrible impression made him chuckle.
Glenn didn't say anything again, which made me wonder what the hell he was even lying about. He seemed so distant, and contemplative. He couldn't stick to looking at one place, his eyes darting around the field near me.
"So, what's up?"
He shook his head. "I . . . I shouldn't say."
"You can tell me, it's obviously eating at you. I'm worried about you," I smiled. "Besides, people are going to question it when you're always nervous."
He seemed like he was deciding in his head, his eyes glancing sideways at me whenever I offered a new point. It must have been something important, and I realised that I didn't have to know if he really couldn't tell.
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."
Glenn finally looked at me, and the second he opened his mouth he blurted, "Lori's pregnant."
It took me a second to understand what he said, and even longer to understand why it was such a big secret. Because of Shane, and whether or not it could be his. I don't know if that's the reason Glenn was hiding it from everyone though.
"Does Rick know?"
Glenn shook his head. I knew that for some reason Lori had decided to tell him. Maybe that's what she asked for from the pharmacy the other day, and apparently he also went out on a run today, but I didn't hear a lot about it from T-Dog. I didn't know how to tackle the issue, because it wasn't for me to deal with. Lori would have to tell Rick at some point, unless she . . . maybe she would abort it.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help with that. I hoped that I could do something to help Glenn, but this was not the case. The worried look had not left after the big secret was now revealed, meaning that he was probably hiding something else.
"Why do I get the feeling that there's something else?" I questioned.
"I . . ." Glenn stopped himself, his eyes moving to the house. He then looked over his shoulder back at the camp, but there was no one in sight. Glenn reached down and grabbed my hand, standing up in the chair and pulling me to my feet alongside him. "Come with me."
I had to distract myself from the fact that he was holding my hand and remembered that this whole thing was for him to tell me one of his secrets. They seemed important, and if this was just as important as Lori being pregnant then I think I needed to know.
He dragged me away from the camp, towards the fence that led down to the barn at the other end of a huge field. I had barely even noticed that this farm had a barn, but I think one of Hershel's rules was that we weren't allowed near it.
"Glenn, we're not supposed to—"
"—you have to!" He interrupted me. "You won't believe me unless you see it."
He opened and closed the fence as we entered the field, and continued making me follow him down to the barn. The barn was made from brown wood, the old paint chipping off. The roods had a corrugated roof across the building. It had been standing for a long time.
When we got closer there were strange sounds coming from inside, and the smell was atrocious. Like when I killed a . . . a walker. I looked at Glenn, my eyes suddenly wide, but he just pointed to the ladder.
I climbed up, with Glenn just behind me. He walked past me and through one of the big open doors upstairs to the inside of the barn. When he realised I wasn't following him, he gestured his head inside.
My worst fears had been confirmed. The sounds, the smell, they all only got worse. I looked down to the first floor of the barn and saw two dozen walkers just wandering around the barn, bumping into each other and the walls. They all groaned and murmured between themselves.
Taking a step forward, I was trying to get a more exact number, but the second I shifted my weight, the wooden floor creaked underneath me. Every single body spun around and looked up, each of them wailing as they reached up to grab us. They all congregated around the bottom of a ladder inside the building.
I rushed backwards, tripping over the step in the window and landing on my butt on top of the upper floor outside the building. Glenn grabbed my arm and pulled me up, but I couldn't look at him, afraid that walkers may somehow know to climb the ladder.
"They can't get us," Glenn said. "Not here, at least."
"Oh my God."
"I know."
"What the fuck are they doing in there?!" I cried, my eyes finally landing on Glenn who was trying to stop me from yelling everything out. "Does Hershel know?! We should tell someone! We have to tell someone! Oh my God, there's so many! What if the door breaks? How secure is the barn? Did you check? When did you find out?!"
"Ace!" Glenn grabbed my shoulders. "Calm down!"
"We have to tell someone!" I repeated, more adamant that it was the part of my rambles that I wanted to stick with. "We have to tell Rick—"
"—we can't tell anyone, Maggie told me not to."
I could only stare at him for a second, my head shaking. "I don't care what Maggie said!"
"Their family is in there," Glenn exclaimed, which made me stop yelling long enough for him to talk. "Their family is there. Maggie's step mother and brother, people from their town. They think that they're still people, that they can be saved."
Can be saved? When I was speaking to Beth she called the walkers sick people, but if they think the walkers can be saved then she was probably being more literal than I realised. They actually think the workers are sick and can be cured.
"They . . ." I couldn't get the words anymore. "They're dead."
"We know that, but they don't," Glenn said. "They think they can be cured. That people are still out there trying to stop this thing."
I was calmer now, able to actually think about what to do. If Glenn knew, then maybe he had been trying to convince them that the walkers weren't actually sick. He was talking about Maggie a lot, so I asked, "Did you tell her about the C.D.C?"
Glenn nodded.
"Did you tell her about Jacqui?"
Again, he nodded. "I tried telling her that they're dead, and I think Maggie gets it a little more now. She was grabbed in the pharmacy today when we were getting pills for Lori. But Hershel still thinks they're sick."
I was a little sidetracked about the pharmacy news. "Is Maggie okay?"
"Yeah, just shaken up."
I had nothing, no ideas on what to do about the barn, because it just simply wasn't up to us. But if the others found out then they would not want to live somewhere it wasn't safe. Everyone had a right to know, though. It was wrong of Hershel to hide it, but there was nothing he could have done with Carl being shot and Sophia missing. Maybe if he thought we were leaving sooner then he would have told us.
I looked at Glenn. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," he shook his head. "Dale doesn't really know either."
I frowned. "You told Dale?
"He found out something was wrong when I said he would teach me mechanics," Glenn looked at the ground. "I should have just gone shooting."
I guess that Dale would know something was wrong when Glenn completely lied in front of him. He probably hadn't told anyone else about the barn either, because of Maggie. It was probably because he liked her.
I was still thinking about what to do about the barn, but it always came back to the same thing. The group should know that there were walkers here, because they needed to decide whether they wanted to stay themselves, even with the walkers. If they broke out of the barn, our camp would be the first thing they hit.
"You should tell everyone," I stated. "They should know."
"I know," Glenn nodded his head. "I'll let Dale know, and tell them tomorrow. It has to be me."
"It doesn't," I said. "I can say it if you want."
"No, it's gotta be me."
I nodded in agreement, pursing my lips as the sounds of the walkers behind me filled my ears. They hadn't climbed the ladder yet, and in all honesty, they probably never would, but I was not going to let that make me stop worrying about it. Maybe they were just waiting to climb the ladder to trick us.
Glenn sat down, leaning against the corrugated metal. "Maggie is going to be pissed."
I liked how much he was trying to protect Maggie's feelings, it was really honourable. I sat down on the ground next to him, also leaning against the roof panels and trying to ignore my fears of the walkers climbing the ladder.
"It's better to have her pissed at you and alive, than liking you and dead," I stated, looking at him. "Right?"
Glenn nodded. "Yeah."
We sat on the roof of the barn for a while in silence, listening to the walkers as they slowly lost interest in us.
