The prison bustled with life for the next few days with all the new arrivals from Woodbury, people who had had the wool torn forcefully from in front of their eyes, had to live with the fact that their trusted governor had led them to a slaughter, had lied to them and then gunned down their friends and family.
They were miserable and skittish, jumping at their own shadows. Beth spent a lot of time caring for the children that had come from the town, some young enough to not remember their lives before the fall.
A strange mixture of both joy and regret filled the air at the prison; on one hand it was nice to have new people, to know they were helping and for the people to know they were safe, but there was still the loss of their families and friends and the original prison group's ground and sense of security.
So when Maggie asked Beth if she wanted to go on a run with her and Glen, Beth was happy to leave the morose atmosphere behind for a couple of hours.
She followed her sister down to the gates in the early afternoon, enjoying the feel of the sun on her pale skin. Glen was waiting for them by one of the cars, leaning against the drivers seat door, the afternoon sun gleaming off of the shin exterior as Glen had a hand up over his eyes. He waved to them as they approached, Maggie hurrying over to kiss him on the cheek.
'So what, do I call you Maggie Rhee now then or what?' Beth teased her sister as she took off her backpack to put in the car.
'As opposed to all the times you addressed me as Maggie Greene?' Maggie shot back, but she was smiling, her arm linked through Glen's.
'Oh,' Glen said, turning to look at his new wife, 'Daryl is coming. He was going hunting anyway but said he'd come with us, maybe hunt around the outskirts of town.'
'Alright,' Maggie shrugged, 'I'm driving.'
Beth deliberated outside the car for a minute, her heart hammering. She hadn't seen Daryl for a couple of days and she found herself weirdly missing him, even though their encounters had only been brief and often a little awkward. He had been kept busy by the new arrivals, the stronger need for food and protection keeping him outside of the prison hunting or guarding. She was nervous to see him, after the things that had transpired between them before the governor had attacked, their late night conversation and the very quick and small kiss... that thought lingered on her mind and her lips.
'You coming?' Glen asked Beth over the top of the car, pausing with the passenger door open.
Beth nodded, climbing in to the back of the car.
Maggie started up the car and drove it through the gates Carl opened for them, waving them goodbye. Beth smiled and waved back to him; she liked Carl, he was a good kid, despite the brutal act of protection he had laid upon the teenage woodbury boy. Rick had been keeping him under close check since her daddy had told him about it, he wasn't actively saying or doing anything, but Beth noticed he always had an excuse ready to stop Carl leaving the prison or using his gun.
They drove down the road when suddenly Daryl's motorbike whizzed past them, cutting in front of them.
Maggie wound down her window.
'Asshole motorbike drivers!' she yelled to him, earning herself a flip of his middle finger. Beth could see him grinning as he rode off ahead of them, and she couldn't help giggling herself as both her sister and Glen laughed. She felt lighter than she had for weeks.
The journey into town didn't take long, half an hour at most. They encountered few walkers along the way, ambling beside the road or further away in the fields that lined the paths. They had already passed them by the time the walkers had realised their arrival and began to move for them.
It was strange, Beth thought, as she peered out of the window; she never thought she would feel content in a post-apocalyptic world, never thought she would sit in the back of a car, casually looking out of the window, without being crippled by fear, without trying to escape, without dreading every second.
'Do you know how to drive, Beth?' Glen asked her, drawing her attention.
'No,' Beth told him, 'I never got round to learning.'
'She rides horses,' Maggie said, glancing at Glen. 'I mean, she used to.'
'Someone should teach you how to drive,' Glen said, turned around in his seat to look at her.
'I'm not sure this is the best environment to learn in,' Beth smiled.
'We can't let that stop us from living,' Glen said, sitting back round in his seat. He looked over at Maggie, who smiled to him.
. . .
They pulled into town a little further away from where they wanted so as not to draw too much attention to themselves. Beth hung back behind her sister and Glen as they made their way to the large supermarket, allowing them to take on the oncoming walkers.
'Split up and sweep?' Maggie whispered as they crouched beside the front doors, having knocked on them to no noise from within.
Glen nodded once, then opened the doors.
Beth stayed close to her sister, knife in hand. Her heart thumped away in her chest as the two of them slowly picked their way along the aisles, stepping over fallen goods and debris, careful not to knock anything over to make too much noise. A lot of the stuff had already been scavenged, Beth saw, especially the food aisles, which were littered with crumbs of packets that had been torn open and left to rot, dried pastas crunched underfoot and the occasional shattered glass of sauce. Although there still seemed to be some fairly good conditioned clothing, she noticed. Most of the mannequins were on the floor, either fallen or knocked, and they lay there now, faceless, amongst scattered glass, but the clothing rails still held some semblance of potential, which was good.
Beth looked around, trying to imagine what the store had looked like in its glory days, with the carefully selected displays and shelves, the food, the clothing, the home décor. Now the tiles were scattered in mud and dirt, cracked and broken, strewn with broken items. The lights hung uselessly from the high ceiling now, some of them broken, sprinkling glass down onto the floor below, some hung from only one chain, swaying softly of their own accord. None of them had been turned on for some time, the lightbulbs in them laying useless and forgotten.
'Clear?' Glen asked, meeting them in the middle.
'Yeah,' Maggie said softly.
'Alright,' Glen said, 'we need food and blankets.'
'I'll get the blankets,' Maggie said.
'I'm going to look through the clothes,' Beth said, 'see if there is anything for anyone.'
The others nodded to her, then they went their different ways, Maggie staying relatively close to Beth, just an aisle over.
Beth slowly wandered around the rails, sifting through the clothing that was still left. It seemed strange to be clothe shopping in a desolate and dim centre. Her mind wandered back to her home town; the closest shopping centre was a good hours drive away from their farm, so her daddy had driven herself and her sister or her friends into the town so they could spend the day there, wandering around, buying new clothes, shoes, getting lunch, milkshakes. There had always been the hustle and bustle of the shops, the loud, obnoxious music, the crowds to push through, babies screaming, children laughing – it was a far cry to the eerie, stifling silence that lay over the shop floor she stood in now. A shudder ran down her spine. How clueless they had all been.
Beth dug out a few tops, holding them against her and shifting her body around, attempting to see how they would look on her. There were no mirrors, as far as she could tell.
'Suits you,' a voice said, causing Beth to gasp and spin around, clasping the top to her chest.
Daryl was standing at the end of the aisle, his crossbow hanging low beside his calves.
'Daryl!' Beth spluttered, 'you scared me!'
Daryl scoffed, then began running his hand over the clothing on the rails. Beth watched him, her heart still beating harder as she watched the slow, deliberate way his hand ran over the fabrics, leaving them to fall back into place in almost slow motion. His fingers moved delicately over the clothing, dancing across them as though they were an instrument. Beth felt her stomach tighten just watching him.
'Wha' 'bout this?' he said, holding out a leather jacket to her.
Beth eyed the jacket, raising an eyebrow.
'Really?' she said, 'on me?'
'Yeah,' Daryl said, chucking it to her. He picked out a thick, loosely knitted gray jumper, too, which he held out to her as he walked towards her. His eyes lowered on the top in his hands, he was slowly circling his thumb and forefinger over the fabric, taking it the feel of the cotton against his calloused hands. Beth reached out and took it from him, her own hands gently brushing his as the jumper exchanged persons. She noticed the blood on his hands.
'What happened?' she asked, nodding towards his hands.
'Oh,' Daryl held them up to look at them, 'walker ou'side.'
Beth nodded, then pulled the jumper on over her head, pulling her mass of blonde hair through the head hole with a light huff. She held her arms out, twisting her body from side to side for Daryl to see. He nodded, smiling lightly.
'An' that.' he said, gesturing down to the jacket she had left on the floor while she put the jumper on.
Beth chuckled, picking it up. She turned it over in her hands before shrugging it on, smoothing it down over herself, feeling the cool leather against her hands. There were zips on the sleeves which ran half way up her lower arm, and two large collars either side of the main zip, one of which would fold under when done up. It was simple, plain black, but it was pretty. A little big on her, but otherwise a good fit.
She looked up to Daryl, biting her lip, feeling a little silly.
The black leather jacket made her look older, accentuating her figure and drawing on the paleness of her skin and hair. She was slightly flushed as she bit her lip, her blue eyes wide and sparkling.
Daryl was taken aback. He looked at her, feeling his heart suddenly speed up entirely of its own accord, not waiting around for his brain to catch up on understanding . He saw her suddenly as a young woman, someone who would go out and have a good time, dress up and look stunning, not just a young farm girl in cowboy boots. The jacket was cool, it was dark, and it was sexy.
He swallowed.
'Look's good,' he gruffed.
'Hey,' Maggie's voice caused them both to look up, 'we're on a run not a cat walk!'
Beth blushed, ducking her head and letting her hair fall in front of her face.
'C'mon,' Maggie said, smiling, 'we need to get going.'
Beth glanced up at Daryl, who was looking down intently at his crossbow, seemingly engrossed in it.
. . .
Once they stepped back out into the dim afternoon sun of the street Glen stopped them.
'Once we get back to the prison we'll have to get back to work,' he said, gently taking Maggie's arm. 'Why don't we stay and hang out a little longer? There's a bar just down the street.'
'Glen,' Maggie said, raising an eyebrow at him, 'are you serious?'
'After everything we've all been through lately, we can afford to have some fun,' he said, looking into his wife's eyes.
'It's irresponsible,' she said, folding her arms across her chest.
'We could all be dead tomorrow,' Glen said.
'Oh wow, great positivity,' Maggie rolled her eyes.
'Whatever y'do, y'need to get off th' street.' Daryl said.
Maggie looked at him, then at Glen, then rolled her eyes again, sighing.
'Just a little while.' She said seriously, trying not to smile at Glen's cute grin.
He led them, with Daryl trailing behind them, a few blocks down to an old looking bar. They waited outside for a minute, listening, before going in.
Inside was dark, almost no light came through the high windows. The interior was made up of varying shades of browns and reds and oranges, with a high border of wooden panels running around the walls. Small booths lined the walls, wooden tables surrounded by red leather sofas built into the walls at one end, each with their own wall lamp, all of which no longer worked, some of them smashed, the glass having fallen down onto the wooden table below. A rectangular wooden bar sat in the middle of the room adjacent to the doors, dusty bottles lying untouched along the wall behind it. A vast majority of the bottles had been thrown around, smashed over the floor and the surface of the bar and lay there glittering in the very dim sunlight.
The four of them picked their way over the glass towards the bar, where Glen dusted off one of the bar stool and tilted it Maggie's way.
She laughed at him then jumped up on to it, shaking her head as he sat beside her. Beth stood a little back, pulling at the hem of the sleeve of her new jumper, whilst Daryl wandered behind the bar, beginning to dig through the left over bottles.
'You ever bar-tended?' Glen asked Daryl.
Daryl looked up at him through his hair, standing still.
'Nah,' he said.
'Alright,' Glen said, 'so what we got?'
'Found a bottle'o' cognac' Daryl grunted, picking up a glass bottle from beneath the counter and placing it on the bar in front of Glen.
'Oh gross.' Maggie scowled, wrinkling her nose.
'Tha'll put hairs on yer chest,' Daryl said, pulling the stopper from the glass bottle and pushing it towards Glen.
Glen scowled but picked up the bottle and took a swig from it. He put it down grimacing.
'Ya coming' t'sit?' Daryl asked Beth, looking over at her.
'Beth doesn't drink.' Maggie said to Daryl.
Beth bit her lip, feeling like a child, but slowly approached the bar, tentatively climbing onto the stool.
'S'alright,' Daryl shrugged, 'I aint gon' drink neither.'
'Oh come on,' Glen whined, 'I'm not drinking alone.'
He held the bottle out to Maggie, shaking it before her.
'Okay,' she took the bottle from him, 'just a little, to take the edge off.'
Beth leant her elbows on the bar, resting her chin on her hands to watch Maggie swig from the bottle.
'Disgusting,' she said after swallowing, shaking her head.
Daryl had wandered away from them, walking softly over the broken shards of glass, peering beneath the counter and into cupboards. Beth watched him as he walked, admiring the way he stepped so gently, how softly he picked up the empty bottles.
'So you don't want to try this delightful beverage?' Glen asked Beth, drawing her eyes back towards him.
'She doesn't drink,' Maggie said again, 'cause of what it did to our daddy. Plus she's just a kid, Glen, quit trying to get my baby sister drunk!'
Something about the way her sister said it caused Beth's blood to boil. She watched her older sister look at her with those over protective eyes, the look of condescending knowledge as she looked around her partner, hanging onto his arm. Something about the way Maggie's newly bejewelled hand was resting on Glen's bicep irritated her.
'We could be dead tomorrow,' Beth found herself say, taking the bottle from Glen, 'right?' she looked at him, then brought the glass to her lips.