Chpt 11: (What May Come) Tastes Like Chicken
They stumble through thick ground cover and fall into a clearing. Beth twists and lands on her back. Her stomach is burning, and her lungs are on fire. Daryl swings his crossbow off his shoulder as he collapses next to her, wheezing. Cursing every cigarette he has ever smoked. Beth reaches for him blindly, finds his forearm and slides her hand to his. They lay there, longer than they should, sucking wind and replaying their losses in their minds.
Beth's breathing finally slows, and she regains some modicum of control. She turns her head to Daryl. His eyes are closed, but the rise and fall of his chest appears to be in tandem with hers. She sits up, waits for the dizziness to pass, and squeezes Daryl's fingers. "You okay?"
Daryl's eyes pop open. He looks over to Beth and nods. Pulls himself up with a grunt. "You?"
Beth's lip quirks into a poor excuse for a smile before she looks away. They survey their surroundings. Scan the area for any potential threats. Outside of the clearing itself, there is no evidence that people or walkers have been through here. At least not recently. It's a natural glade formed and protected by the low hanging, full-leafed canopy of deciduous trees growing all around it. Daryl has the fleeting thought it's the kind of place he would have set up camp, back in the day. Thinks it would have been a great place to camp with Beth. But right now, his muscles are cramping. He has a stitch in his side that won't go away. His feet are burning. And he feels like he might puke. He's pissed that the governor took their home. Worried as hell the rest of their family might be dead. Mostly, he feels helpless and that pisses him off even more.
"We better move," she suggests. "Find a place to camp for the night."
Daryl huffs and stands. Beth's right. They need to get going, and that pisses him off too. He extends a hand to pull her up. Does so and stomps off without a word. He completely misses the little frown from Beth.
They break from the woods and find the train tracks that run parallel to the highway. There's a fresh pile of human remains next to a pair of children's boots. A little further up, they see a single walker feasting on second pile. Daryl dispatches the walker quickly and steps over the tracks intending to keep on moving. He stops when he hears Beth sobbing. He wants to go to her. Wants to tell her he's sorry about the little boy those boots belonged too, but he can't. He isn't sure why, but he can't make his feet move in her direction. He can't offer her comfort right now. He has spent the last several miles tamping down the anger. Clearing his head. Ignoring the pain in his heart. And focusing solely on his next footfall. He is completely numb. If he goes to Beth, he might start feeling things again, and that will surely destroy him. The most he can afford to give her is a little pity and a hard jut of his chin. They have to keep moving.
Beth has her cry while Daryl waits at a distance. When her tears finally dry, she catches up to him, but he still has nothing to say. He turns, keeps trekking north, and leaves her to follow. She's mad as hell and getting madder the longer Daryl ignores her. The anger is easier to hold onto than the sadness, and she grips it like a lifeline. By nightfall, they are on the highway dodging walkers and clearing cars. The moon is full, but thick black clouds keep floating across its surface and blocking its light. Beth hears a deep rumble, thinks it must be a roll of thunder, until Daryl grabs her arm and hurls her toward an abandoned car. He clears it quickly and lifts the trunk lid. Motions for Beth to crawl in and follows behind her. The lid is rusted and makes a terrible scraping noise when Daryl pulls it down over their heads. It won't close all the way, so he secures it with the rag he keeps in his back pocket. A herd emerges from the woods just as the sky opens up and rain beats down on the car.
The storm has the herd in a frenzy. The walkers slam into each other blindly. Seem to piss each other off when they do. Their growls crescendo to a deafening roar. A few of the fresher walkers catch their scent. Break off from the heard and surround the car. The lid bounces and screeches and the car rocks from both the walkers and the wind.
It's hot as hell fire in the trunk and the air is stale. Stinks like sweat and rot. Beth is folded in the corner, knees bent to her chin, knife drawn and at the ready. Daryl takes up considerably more space. He sits crossways in his two-thirds of the trunk, twisted at his middle to keep his crossbow pointed and aimed through the narrow opening in the trunk. His arms are taunt under the weight of it, but he never moves. Beth wonders if he's even breathing. The soles of his boots have been pressing into her hip for hours now. It hurts, and it pisses her off. She wants to grab his feet and shove them to the back of the trunk. Instead, she presses against them. Gives him a nudge to let him know she doesn't appreciate it. From the corner of her eye, she sees Daryl glance her way, but he doesn't move. That pisses her off even more. She's fidgety, and she needs to pee. Itches in places she can't possibly reach. Wonders if she might be claustrophobic. Her eyes dart from her third of the trunk to the middle, to Daryl, to the opposite side and back. Over and over again on an endless loop.
Eventually the rain slows and comes to a sudden stop. The walkers settle down and move on. Beth relaxes a little but remains trapped in her corner. The humidity in the trunk is stifling. She needs to move. Needs to breathe, but it's getting harder and harder to fill her lungs. Her heart is racing, and her head is swimming. She has the fleeting, rational thought she might be having a panic attack but who can be rational suffocating in a corner. Fight-or-flight kicks in, and Beth opts for flight. If she doesn't get out now, she's either gonna' pass out or spontaneously combust. Either way, she is done with this bullshit. She drops her knife at her side. Swipes the back of her hand across her brow and reaches for the rag. She doesn't even glance at Daryl. In her head, she dares him to try and stop her. Her hands are shaking, and she can't get the knot to budge. Daryl tries to help, but Beth smacks his hands away. The knot finally releases and Beth hurls herself from the trunk. She hightails it to the front of the car and gags. Her eyes water from the retching, and her chest burns, but she doesn't pass out. Score one for Beth.
Daryl unfolds himself from the trunk and stomps the ground trying and force the blood to circulate through his legs and feet. He keeps one ear trained on Beth while he scavenges the car for supplies. He finds a garbage bag and stuffs it with hubcaps. Beth emerges with a broken mirror and broken glass. "For starting a fire," she snips and drops them in the bag.
They find three empty water bottles, and a tarp to add to their stash. Daryl picks up his bow and takes a second to look at Beth. Really look at her, head to toe. She waits for his assessment with an "I dare you" stare even though she is screaming on the inside for him to speak. To say something… anything. But he doesn't. He simply turns and walks on ahead. She knows he's in shock. Knows his silence stems from anger and sadness. She is willing to give him whatever he needs to help him process, but she isn't a mind reader. And right now, his silence is killing her.
Daryl knows he's being an ass. But he's not sure how to stop. He can't wrap his head around the way he feels. It's almost like he doesn't have the energy to feel anything at all. He's going through the motions with no real direction or purpose outside of keeping Beth alive. He's afraid he'll lash out at her. Say something he can't take back. So, he sticks with his decision to stay quiet and keep his distance.
They've been walking in silence for hours when Beth says she is hungry. Daryl breaks from the road and disappears into the woods leaving Beth alone on the road. She stomps her foot and silently screams in frustration. When she breaks through the trees, Daryl is waiting for her. "Deer tracks," he mumbles. "Follow 'em to a water source."
Beth nods. It ain't much, but at least he's talking. "Sounds good," she whispers, and tries to smile.
She walks as silently as she can behind him, amazed at how he makes no sound at all. He stops every now and again and studies things Beth can't see. He eventually loses the deer's trail but spots a squirrel scurrying across a low branch. The bolt passes just shy of its mark and the lucky little bastard scampers away. He can hear a creek running not too far off in the distance. He searches for any anomalies and spots a path through the trees. It's overgrown and nearly obscured, even to his trained eye, but it's there. He taps Beth's arm and heads in that direction. They walk another hundred yards or so, and the ground starts to soften beneath their boots.
The creek water is clean and clear. They both fall to their knees and cup handfuls to their mouths. Beth fills the water bottles while Daryl looks for tracks. He has his back to her, one hand on his hip, and he's looking up at the trees. Beth slides her hand beneath his bicep and leans her head against his shoulder. "What now?"
Daryl takes a deep breath and relaxes into her. Flicks his wrist toward another dampened patch of grass. "See where that trail takes us. It ain't been used in a long time neither… Keep huntin'. Get somethin' in our bellies."
Beth steps ahead of him and heads toward the trees. She can't exactly spot the trail he is talking about, but she moves in the general wrist-flick direction he gave her. Sees four trees, evenly spaced, and veers toward the two on the left. A second later, there is a familiar set of hands on her shoulders shifting her to the right.
The trail is covered and packed in dead leaves that crunch under their feet. They've been on the trail for less than ten minutes when Daryl's arm shoots out and stops Beth in her tracks. She freezes, eyes wide, and slowly reaches for her knife. She is searching the trees for an unseen enemy when she feels Daryl's hand close over hers. He eases the knife from her grip and raises it, slow and steady, over his head. Flings it forward, lighting fast, and exhales a heavy breath. That's when Beth sees it. A huge snake is writhing wildly on the ground in front of them. She never would have seen it coiled in the leaves. Daryl has it pinned to the ground with her knife, just behind its head. Its mouth is disjointed and spread impossibly wide, hissing and spitting desperately. Five-inch fangs are jetted out and dripping with thick honey-colored venom. Daryl pulls out his knife and squats next to the snake. Beth wants to tell him to be careful, but she is paralyzed with fear. She watches him slice the snakes head clean off and kick it to the side. She shutters from head to toe, but she can't pull her eyes from the decapitated snake as it continues to flop like a fish out of water. Daryl stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. "Timber Rattler," he surmises with not even a hint of fear in his voice. "Good sized one too."
He nearly laughs when he glances at Beth. She has the most disgusted look on her face, and she's noddin' at him like she agrees with him, one hundred percent.
Daryl waits for it to quit floppin' before he retrieves Beth's knife. Scoops up the snake and throws it over his shoulder. They find a clear spot at the top of a hill and stop to build a small cooking fire. Beth uses the broken mirror and the piece of glass from the car to get the fire going while Daryl skins their four-foot friend. Daryl chops it into pieces and slides them on skewers to rotate over the fire. When the first skewer is fully cooked, he hands it to Beth. "Just eat the meat. Don't bite all the way through. Insides taste like shit."
"Right," she says. and takes the proffered snake kabob. "Not a problem".
They eat in silence. Beth keeps thinking about chicken while she chews the tough muscle of the rattler. It helps it go down a little easier. Daryl, on the other hand, dives in like it's Sunday dinner.
Further down the path, they stumble up on a rundown shack. It's falling apart on the outside and the inside is littered with trash. It smells like pee and smoke. Beth spots a hot pink ashtray shaped like a bra. She picks it up and holds it out for Daryl to see. "Yeah?" he says, defensively. "My old man had one just like it."
He is daring her to say something about it, maybe crack a redneck joke. But Beth refuses to take the bait. She drops the ashtray and tells him she saw a shed out back. She's gonna' go take a look. Daryl knows exactly what she's gonna' find in that shed. He grew up in a place just like this. He follows her out, just in case one of the assholes who lived here locked himself up with the moonshine. There are no walkers, but sure as shit, the first thing they see is a crate full of shine. Daryl leaves it where he finds it, but Beth picks up the crate and carries it inside.
"What the hell you bringin' that in for?"
"To drink," she sasses.
"That's moonshine, girl. You don't need ta' be drinkin' that shit."
Beth thought it was water. Somebody's redneck version of bottled water. Never even crossed her mind it might be moonshine. But that's a mistake Daryl never needs to know about. "You my chaperone now, Mr. Dixon?" This time her sass is laced with venom. She's embarrassed by her naiveté, and he's back to irritating the fire out of her again. The combination makes her a little mean.
Daryl usually likes it when she calls him Mr. Dixon. It's part of their thing. But not this time. Not when she's throwing it at him like a weapon. He jerks the crate out of her hands and tosses it on the kitchen table. When he turns back around, Beth is frowning, and she has the pad of her thumb in her mouth. When she pulls it out, she squeezes on it, and Daryl sees fresh blood ooze from a cut.
"Shit, Beth," he says and reaches for her hand.
Beth pulls away before he can reach her. Wipes it on her jeans and declares she is fine. She walks around him and opens one of the moonshine jars. She's never had alcohol before. Her daddy forbade it. More than that, she just never wanted it. Her friends in high school drank nearly every weekend. She liked to hang out and play along, but the idea of being out of control never appealed to her. But now… now she thinks she doesn't want to die without a taste. She knows Daryl is watching her. Figures he has an opinion, but she'll be danged if she gives him an invitation to share that opinion. The sharp smell of the moonshine nearly changes her mind, but that fierce stubborn streak of hers will not let her relent. She takes a swig and thinks maybe she should have started with a sip when fire scorches her throat. Burns a trail down the inside of her chest. She tries to hold back the cough, but that just makes it worse.
"What the hell you tryin' to prove, Beth?"
"I ain't tryin' to prove nothin'," she says through a choked cough. "Just never had moonshine before."
"You ever had any kind a' drink, girl?"
Now he's the one being mean. Judgmental and prickly, and Beth has had just about enough.
"What does it matter," she says curtly.
"You ever been drunk before?" The way he says it, she knows he's making fun of her, but it's far less than good natured.
Beth is too tired to fight so she asks him if he wants some moonshine. Tries to lighten the mood.
Daryl shakes his head. "Nah, somebody's gotta' stay sharp. Protect your ass."
He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Beth looks stricken.
"That's what you think a' me," she asks. "You think I need protectin'? News flash, asshole. I can take care of myself."
Beth storms past him, and he makes a grab for her. He wants to apologize. Wants to stop her from leaving. He doesn't mean to hit her hand and splash moonshine all over her shirt.
She jumps back, arms open wide, and screams at him. "Damn it, Daryl!" Her anger is fueled by a perfect storm of fear, frustration, lack of sleep, and sadness. Mostly she feels betrayed and helpless. She doesn't understand why Daryl has chosen to shut her out. Why the bad guys sometimes win. Why her family had to be split up and scattered. She flings the mason jar across the room and heads toward the back of the shack. Daryl flinches when the bedroom door slams.
He picks up one of the jars from the crate, bounces it around in his hand, and hurls it into the wall. He enjoys watching it shatter into a million pieces. Grabs another one and does it again. Grabs a third but opens this one instead and takes a big swig. It burns going down, like liquid fire, and he likes the way it feels. He takes another gulp. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and sends the jar flying across the room. He lets the anger take a breath. Feels it push through the numbness. He grabs another jar and takes another drink.
They've been making a lot of racket. He isn't surprised when he hears a familiar growl out back. Grabs his crossbow and darts out the door. Daryl meets the walker as it stumbles around the back of the house. It pisses him off. What the hell right does this asshole have to come back to life. To take someone else from this earth. His anger boils over. Threatens to burn him up. He releases a bolt and nails the undead creature to the tree. Fires another one into its other shoulder.
Beth appears at his side as a third bolt sails into the walker. She's wearing a yellow t-shirt tied in a knot at her hip. It nearly swallows her petite frame. "Daryl, what the hell?"
"What?" he snaps
"Kill it already. What are you doin'?"
"Nah, we're gonna' have some fun with this one. It's a party, right!"
"Killin' isn't supposed to be fun!" Beth draws her knife and stabs the walker in the head.
She spins and charges back to Daryl. "You're gonna' talk to me, Daryl Dixon. Your gonna' tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours."
"What do ya' want me say? Huh?" He lunges into her space. Bends to meet her at eye level, but Beth holds her ground. "Want me ta' talk about my feelings and shit?"
He dances back from her. Bites and runs, but Beth gives chase. She's on her toes. In his face. "I want you to stop actin' like none of what we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anythin' to you. It's bullshit!" She hates the way her voice cracks around her tears. Hates that she cries when she's mad.
"That what you think?"
"That's what I know," she half whispers. It hurts her to say it. Knows it isn't true, but she's tired of his bullshit. Thinks she can bait him into coming clean.
"You don't know nothin'." He's shifting his weight back and forth. A slow, focused repetition. It centers his anger. Helps him keep the impending explosion somewhat in check.
"I know you're afraid," she challenges.
He lunges at her again. Points his finger in her face. "I ain't afraid a' nothin'," he hisses. They circle each other like two prize fighters.
"You're a terrible liar. Everybody we love is gone. Scattered or dead. God forbid you let yourself keep carin' about me. I ain't Maggie or Michonne or Carol. You think I might die and then what?"
Daryl grabs her face with both hands. His fingers are rough and calloused, but his grip is light. Even as messed up as he is right now, he would never hurt her. "Don't say that. You hear me? Don't you ever talk about dyin'. I couldn't take it, Beth…"
They stare at each other. Fall into rhythm, both too worked up to stand still. His lip starts to quiver and his eyes shimmer. Shift from gray to blue behind unshed tears.
"It could happen, Daryl, but it doesn't mean…"
"Damn it, Beth," he yells and spits. Turns his back to her.
"Daryl," she says and chases after him again. Steps around him and makes him face her. "Don't push me away. It won't make it hurt any less."
His shoulders slump, and he tucks his chin to his chest. "It's too hard," he mumbles. Swipes at a rogue tear with the back of his hand. Charges past her.
Beth spins. Focuses on the angel wings that seem to flap with his back and forth movements. She gives him his space. Let's him work through what he needs to say.
"Governor rolled right up to our gates. Now everybody we cared about's gone. Lil' Asskicker, Maggie, Rick, Merle… I shoulda' kept lookin'. I shoulda' took care of those bodies too. Maybe if I had, your dad… Shit, Beth. That's on me," he says with so much self-loathing it nearly breaks her heart.
She whispers his name and reaches for his arm. Daryl jerks away and peeks at her over his shoulder. "It coulda' been you, you know… When I saw you on your knees in front a' the governor…" His voice cracks, and he can't hardly draw in air. Shakes his head to force the vile pictures of Beth and what could have been, out of his brain. "I ain't never felt like that Beth… I don't know what ta' do now…"
Beth throws herself into his back. Wraps her arms around his waist and hangs on tight. Presses her cheek against the wings that have faded with all they've been through. Eventually, his sobs subside, and Daryl lifts his arm, turns, and fits Beth to his chest. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.
Beth shakes her head. No apologies necessary. "I'm an asshole, Beth. I warned ya'."
Beth huffs a humorless laugh. Leans back and waits for him to look at her. His eyes keep bouncing between her and anything but her. Beth murmurs his name. It drags against her dry throat. But it pulls him back to her. "Just don't shut me out, okay? We're partners."
Daryl nods. Runs his hand the length of her ponytail. "Got any more moonshine? I could use a drink."
Beth does laugh at that. Gives him the first real smile he's seen in days. Makes his heart feel a little lighter.
"Yeah, I think we've got a few jars left. I found you a flannel too. There were two of 'em in the closet."
They're swaying back and forth. Trying to find their footing. Re-establish their familiar rhythm. "That where you found that t-shirt?" He must have noticed it when she first came outside because she's pressed up against him now. She steps back and holds the corners out so they can both look at it closer.
"You like it?" she asks and bats her eyelashes dramatically. There's a fat, fluffy squirrel with big round eyes and over-stuffed cheeks sitting square in the middle of her chest. Underneath, it says, "It's what's for dinner".
Daryl snorts at her shirt and at her suggestive behavior. Beth even catches a glimpse of teeth when he smiles. She wrinkles her nose playfully and smiles back. They are both exhausted from the physical and emotional strain of the last couple of days, but they have work to do. Another day to make it through. They check the perimeter and make sure all the noise didn't attract walkers or people. Secure entry points as best they can with what they have. And string a makeshift alarm with supplies they scavenged from the car and the shack.
Dusk is setting in, bringing with it a cool breeze and a welcome relief from the thick humidity. They settle on the porch with two jars of moonshine, a can of pork 'n beans they found in the shed, left over rattle snake, and a rag full of berries Beth collected from the brush behind the house.
As the night wears on and the moonshine jars deplete, Daryl finds himself sitting across from a buzzed Beth on the back porch. She's wearing a new smile. One he's never seen before. In his head he dubs it the Tipsy Beth smile. It's sweet and a little mischievous. He likes it, thank you very much.
"You're a happy drunk," he says with a half tipsy smile of his own. Beth's smile grows, and she blinks at him lazily.
The humidity colludes with the moonshine to slow everything down. Cicada song is a balm to their frayed nerves. The relative peace drives them into their own thoughts until Beth pipes up. Tells him she misses Maggie and her big brother Shawn. Misses Maggie bossin' her around and Shawn being overprotective. Daryl says Shawn wouldn't have let him get within two feet of her. Beth rolls her eyes and giggles. "Nah. He'd a' come around. He would've liked you."
She talks about picnics and babies and her daddy. Talks about how she wishes Hershel could have been a grandpa. Wishes he could have died quietly, at a really old age, surrounded by the people he loved. She pauses. Gets lost in her head thinking about what could have been. What should have been. Says something about being unbelievably stupid for wanting those things.
Daryl tells her she ain't stupid. Says that's the way it's supposed to be. He surprises her when he adds, "I want those things too."
Beth's surprised "oh" morphs into the sweetest smile. It pierces Daryl's heart, and he looks away shyly.
"Just used to nothin' but ugly. Then you came along, and everythin' changed," he explains. "Growin' up the way I did, in a place like this… I didn't know people like you existed… This kinda' ugly makes ya' mean."
"You're not mean," she says. Draws her brows together in a deep frown. Seems genuinely offended that he would call himself that. "You changed, Daryl. You got away from all that. You're kind and compassionate. You're good," she declares. Emphasizes the word "good" like it means so much more than just the opposite of bad. "I love you, Daryl. I love you with all my heart."
"Still?" he asks. Beth nods, and smiles that patient smile of hers. It reminds him of her dad. Hershel used to smile like that when the rest of them caught up to what he already knew to be right. Daryl starts chewing on the inside of his lip. Looks her over like he's making sure she is real.
"Tell me something good, Daryl."
He bounces his thumb on his knee and tries not to smile. "Love you too, girl."
Beth's smile stretches wide across her face. She taps the bottom of his boots with her boot clad toes.
"Come 'ere," he says, and it sends a shiver up Beth's spine. She crawls to him, and he pulls her across his lap. Settles his hands on her hips. "I wish you didn't have ta' see all this ugly. Wish we coulda' met like in your story. Run off to Nashville together. Raise all them kids you were talkin' about."
Daryl's sad, half-smile squeezes Beth's heart. She draws in a shaky breath. Fights to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill yet again. "I wish places like this didn't exist for anybody. Not then, not now," she says.
Daryl shrugs. "It wasn't all bad. Didn't get ugly 'til after my mom died." Beth lifts her eyebrows, silently inviting him to tell her more. "She was a happy drunk, like you. Died when I was twelve. She passed out on the couch with a cigarette in her mouth. Damn thing lit up like a box of fireworks. Burned the whole house down… Merle was already gone overseas in the Army. After that it was just me and my old man…" He shrugs again. "You know the rest."
Beth brushes the hair out of his eyes. Leans down and places a tender kiss on his lips. "Was there anyone you could go to? To get away from him?"
"Yeah, there was this one old lady down the street. Ms. Atwater. I used to mow her lawn for her. Drive her to the store 'fore I could even see over the steerin' wheel. Ever' day on my way home from school, she'd holler at me from the front porch. Call me up there and give me an orange soda. Tell me what we were having for supper that night. She said cookin' for two was easier than cookin' for one. Prolly' woulda' starved ta' death without her… I got lost in the woods a few months after my mom died. Was gone ten days. When I finally made it back home, I went to see her. I wanted ta' tell her I was sorry for bein' gone sa' long. When I told her what happened, she hugged me and cried. I guess she'd been down to the house lookin' for me, and my old man told her he figured I'd run away. She even called the police, but they agreed with my dad…"
"I'm glad you had Ms. Atwater. She sounds like good people," Beth says sincerely.
"Yeah, she was… When I was fourteen, the ol' man lost another job. Came home drunk. Mad as hell. Caught me in the kitchen gettin' a coke out 'a the fridge. Set him off. That's when I got most 'a them scars I showed ya'. I 'member layin' there in the floor, watchin' the cockroaches carry off all the crumbs and shit from under the cabinets. I wasn't gonna' move 'til I knew for sure he passed out. When he finally did, I half crawled to Ms. Atwater's. She wanted ta' take me to the hospital, but I wouldn't let her. Laid on her couch, face down, for a week while she took care of my back. Prolly' would 'a died then too if it weren't for her…"
Beth knows Ms. Atwater has long since been gone, but she feels like she owes it to Daryl's angel of mercy to ask. "What happened to her?"
"She died when I was seventeen," he says. Then he smiles. It's a sad, fleeting uptick of his lip… "When I graduated high school, she gave me an old pocket watch that belonged to her husband. Made us a steak dinner to celebrate… She told me I had a purpose. Told me not to let where I come from keep me from seein' that purpose. I thought she'd prolly' lost her mind or somethin'. A couple of weeks later, I found her in her bed. Died in her sleep. She didn't have no family, so I made a deal with the funeral home. Did some work for 'em in exchange for takin' care of her. Had her cremated"
"What did you do with her ashes?"
"Spread 'em up in Blue Ridge. She used to live there until her husband died. He was a coal miner. Died real young in a mining accident. She loved the mountains. Always talkin' about 'em."
"Daryl," she whispers and cups both his cheeks. "You have a beautiful heart. It's what I love most about you… And Ms. Atwater was right, you do have a purpose. You kept our family safe and fed. You made Rick a better leader. Stepped up when he couldn't do it anymore. You're the reason my sweet Judith made it through those first few weeks. I don't know what we would've done without you, Daryl. I don't know what I would've done."
"You da' found a way. You're fierce. Strongest person I know."
"No, not without you. You helped me change… Either way, you're stuck with me now, Mr. Dixon." She laughs when he rolls his eyes. Tucks her lip between her teeth. "You gotta' let all this go, Babe. Forget where you came from. Stay who you are."
"Maybe I just need ya' to remind me ever' now and then."
Beth is straddling his thighs. Her face is close enough for him to see the individual shades of blue in her eyes. Daryl recognizes it, the minute the idea hits her. Her eyes light up, open wide, and that mischievous grin of hers shows up. "We should burn it down."
It takes him a second to get what she is suggesting. Beth waits for him to catch up. Sits there staring at him with a big goofy grin. Daryl narrows his eyes, thinks it over, and comes to a decision. He pops her on the ass and stands her up. Hops to his feet and juts his chin in agreement, "we're gonna' need more moonshine."
They paint the inside of the shack with alcohol, Beth giggling the whole time. Daryl douses two rags and shoves them into empty jars. When the last of the moonshine is gone, they grab whatever they think they can use and head outside. Daryl hands her one of the Molotov cocktails and flicks his wrist toward the shed. He lights it, and Beth lets it fly with a grunt. Squeals when the whole thing lights up. Daryl gives her a crooked smile and tosses his Molotov at the other end of the shack. He's watching it burn, letting go of his past, when he feels a push against his arm. Beth is standing there with her finger in the air, flipping off his demons. Telling him to do the same. He obliges, gladly. Sends all of it straight to hell with one finger raised high.
They stay until the walls start to cave and the heat is almost too much to bear. Daryl takes her hand and pulls her with him. Laces their fingers together and draws her in close. He saw a deer stand not too far from here. It's too high in the trees to be useful for hunting. He figures the assholes that owned the shack used it as a lookout. Figures moonshine ain't the only thing they were selling. He would have missed it if he hadn't seen the rope ladder hanging down against the tree base. They can spend the night there and keep heading north in the morning. He thinks about Ms. Atwater. Knows she was right. He does have a purpose… Keep Beth safe. Find their family. Build a new life with Beth.
They climb the ladder to the deer stand and Daryl pulls it up with them. They'll be safe up here tonight from people and from walkers. No way anybody could reach the lowest branch of the ancient oak. He and Beth curl up together on an old, thin blanket they took from the shack. He kisses her tenderly. Pours all his love and thanks into one long and languid kiss. Beth hums and smiles when he pulls back, but her eyes refuse to open, and she drifts off to sleep in his arms. They haven't slept in days, and Daryl doesn't remember ever being this tired. But before he closes his eyes, he eases his arm out from underneath her, props his head on his palm, and takes a minute to watch her sleep. He feels lighter than he has in years, even though his heart still hurts like hell from the loss of their family. He decides he's gonna' try to have a little faith. Like Beth said, maybe their family ain't dead. Maybe they're out there looking for each other, just like him and Beth.
He runs his hand through the end of her ponytail. Figures he's the luckiest asshole on the planet. His girl is a damn miracle. She thinks he saved her for cryin' out loud. Little does she know, he woulda' laid down and died a long time ago if not for her. He scoots down next to her. Pillows his head on his bicep and pulls her to him with a hand around her waist. Beth rolls to her side in her sleep and takes that hand with her. Traps it between hers and tucks it up under her chin. Daryl curls around her like a spoon. Feels the weight of the last few days tug at his eyelids.
As he drifts off to sleep, he catches himself prayin' again, for the second time in his life. He thanks God for Beth, and Ms. Atwater too. He asks God to help him keep Beth safe. Maybe help 'em find their family too. He has one more favor to ask. Thinks he's prolly' pushin' his luck with this one, but maybe God owes him a little somethin' for the shitty upbringing he saddled him with. Or maybe He already made up for that when He gave him Beth. Who the hell knows, but Daryl decides there's no harm in askin'. He wants a safe place to make a life with Beth. A place where they can live and work and build a community with their family. Some place clean and pretty with the kind of house he thinks Beth deserves. He knows he's talkin' shit. Blames his crazy on the exhaustion. Places like that don't exist no more. But just in case they do, he asks God to help 'em find their family and then lead 'em there so they can do more than just survive in this suck ass world… Thanks and Amen.