Disclaimer: A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.
This has NOT been edited!
A/N: Just a reminder! This will be the last chapter I post until the first Sunday in July! I will be going on vacation for the first half of June and will need a bit of time to recuperate once I get back home! There is a chance that I'll be able to get a chapter out towards the end of June, but I don't want to make a promise I can't keep. So you can expect chapter 14 on July 5, 2015. I have a few birthday oneshots I've promised as well so I'll probably use my 'time off' from H.O.P.E. to get those wrote and posted! Hope you guys enjoy the chapter!
…
Beth stood next to Daryl as he glared at the bloodstained, yellow bus. They had checked their immediate area, finding no traces of any living beings, and were approaching the school when Daryl came to a sudden halt. The undead were all piled in the back of the vehicle, beating on the glass of the emergency exit door, while their moans echoed through the stillness of the night.
Beth's eyes followed Daryl as he stepped away from her, towards the back door, and grasped the lever. There were only a few walkers inside, nothing a single person like she or Daryl couldn't handle, but there was a sense of hesitancy in his posture. The faces of the dead were clearly visible and after a moment of thought, Beth understood his apprehension.
"You knew 'em," she murmured while moving beside him.
The tightening of his jaw and narrowing of his eyes was her answer.
"Let go," she told him, stepping up on her toes to take hold of the handle.
"I can do it," he bit out even as his fingers slackened over the yellow lever.
"I know," she acknowledged quietly, "but you shouldn't have to."
Daryl exhaled loudly, his hand falling to his side, and he walked away from the bus.
Beth glanced over her shoulder, seeing Daryl's back to her from where he stood close to the gate, and refocused her attention on the bus. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the back door and pulled it open. Leaping back as the corpses tumbled towards the ground, she made quick work putting the dead to rest. Wiping her brow, unsure if it was sweat or blood trickling down her skin, she glanced inside the bus. There were no walkers under the seats and feeling certain it was safe to climb in, she pulled herself in through the back door.
She thoroughly checked each seat, finding duffle bags and other forms of luggage scattered throughout the blood slicked floor. There were far more belongings than that of the few deceased that had been on the bus, which would suggest that some people had possibly escaped, as there were no skeletal remains to be seen. Everything indicated that the residents of The Kingdom had been evacuating, but form what? She was sure there was someone outside the wall, but surely this community could handle one person.
Much to Beth's dismay, there was nothing on the bus that could tell them what had happened. Walking as far as she could, the front portion of the bus mangle in the concrete and glass of the school's front entry, she turned and strode back to the emergency exit. She was about to hop down when she noticed Daryl kneeling next to the bodies.
"No bite marks. No bullet holes in tha' side of the bus either," he commented as he pushed another body over, "You find anything?"
"Some luggage," she answered as he stood and turned to her, "I didn't feel right goin' through it though."
"None of these people were sick," he informed her, reaching his hands up and bent his fingers several times, beckoning her.
Stepping forward, she felt his hands grasp her waist, as she carefully placed her own on his shoulders to help support her weight. He lifted from the back of the bus and when her feet touched the ground, he didn't immediately release her, too caught up in his thoughts while glaring down towards the twice dead bodies lying at their feet.
"Maybe they died in the crash?" She suggested, her hands sliding down his arms to rest at his elbows.
"Maybe," he mumbled and his hands fell away from her waist.
As his arms slipped from her reach, she felt the sudden urge to look towards the gate.
"Why didn't they send 'ah rider?" Daryl asked rhetorically.
"Daryl," she hissed.
"We have a fuckin' protocol for this exact reason," he continued angrily.
"Daryl," she stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.
He stilled in her hold and she was sure the tone of her voice expressed her hysteria.
"Gate," she barely breathed.
A rush of adrenaline shot through her system and the hairs on the back or her neck were standing on end as the gate subtly shook. With Daryl no longer ranting, she could hear a sharp, scraping against metal, as if whoever or whatever was out there were using a knife of some sort to try and pry open the gate. Tiptoeing closer, Daryl following close behind, she was unable to see through the small hole that had held the chain and lock just moments before. The grassy area that had once been visible was blocked by something…or someone.
She felt a pressure on her unbraced wrist and then she was being pulled back. Glancing over her shoulder, Daryl lifted a finger to his lips in a gesture that told her to be quiet, and jerked his head towards the school. Nodding, they crept back towards the bus, stepping over the bodies of the dead and entering through one of the open panels that had seemed to of held a sheet of glass before the bus had crashed into the foyer. Shards crunched under her boots and the scraping of metal could no longer be heard behind them.
"We should wait 'til its light out t'look around," Daryl's voice echoed through the empty halls.
Beth didn't answer, still training all of her senses on the front gate.
"There's 'ah closet up ahead. Should have some supplies in it," Daryl added softly.
Daryl's steps sounded like thunder against the tile of the hallway and Beth couldn't help but wince. Her nerves were shot, muscles tense, and everywhere she looked she expected something to jump out at her. Swallowing, she turned her back to the gate, and trailed behind Daryl's form barely visible in the shadows of the school.
She had lost track of the entrance to the school after the fourth hallway, trusting that Daryl knew his way around the dark corridors. She nearly ran into him, her eyes dissecting every nook and cranny, when he stopped in front of her. His hand hesitated on the handle and he glanced over his shoulder at her. He didn't need to speak for her to know what he was thinking. It had been standard protocol with Morgan that whoever opened the door, the other stood ready with a weapon trained on the entryway for possible assailants waiting on the other side. She quietly pulled her pistol from its holster and leveled the gun between Daryl's shoulder blades, giving him a nod in return. He pulled his knife from his belt and yanked open the door, stepping behind it in an effort to shield himself, as Beth's eyes quickly darted around the small space revealed to her.
"It's clear," she whispered while placing her gun back on her hip.
Daryl stepped around the door, sheathing his knife and thrust his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Beth waited as he dug around before finally pulling a silver, rectangular object from his jeans.
She squinted her eyes in the dark, "What's that?"
Instead of replying, Daryl flicked his thumb down the thumbwheel several times before it produced a small flame.
"Well that's handy," she blinked to let her eyes adjust to the flame that wavered every time Daryl moved his hand.
"It's just 'ah lighter," he stated while stepping into the closet and holding the appliance in front of the metal shelving.
"Yeah, but there aren't many of 'em left," she replied as she followed him into the room, "that still have fluid anyway."
"Eugene figured out 'ah way t'turn plastic into kerosene," he explained as they searched the shelves, "Built some big ass machine and ended up bein' able t'make somethin' useful outta' all the trash layin' around."
"Well I appreciate havin' light right now," she said while standing on her tiptoes to look over the top shelf, "I thought you said there were supplies in here?"
"S'posed to be," he huffed.
"I got nothin' over here," she lowered herself down on her heels and turned to him.
"I got 'ah busted flashlight," he grumbled and lifted a red tube of plastic towards her.
"You should keep that," she smiled teasingly, "Eugene could use it in his 'big ass machine.'"
Before Daryl could reply there were footsteps down the hallway and Beth froze, smile instantly falling from her face, and her eyes flew towards the open closet door. Daryl flipped the cover to his lighter, effectively snuffing out the small flame, and Beth swallowed air. She could hear him shuffle towards the door, silently pushing it closed, but it was deathly quiet otherwise. As soon as the door met the frame, they were immersed in complete and total darkness. Beth's breath came out unevenly as they waited; listening for any other signs of activity in the corridor.
A door banged in the distance and Beth jumped. Tightening her grip on the handle of her machete, she felt a surge of panic as her stomach plummeted to the floor. Sweat trickled down her neck, into the collar of her flannel shirt, and the lack of visibility made her feel even more vulnerable.
"We're trapped in here," Beth hissed.
"There's too many directions someone could come at us out there," Daryl shot back.
"Then what are we gonna' do?" Her voice a shrill whisper.
They both fell silent and she could feel her anxiety growing.
"I can't lock it from tha' inside," Daryl articulated somewhere in front of her.
She blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to the dark, when a flame reemerged from Daryl's lighter. He stood in front of the door, gripping the handle so tightly that his knuckles had drained of all color, and she took a shaky breath as she tried to think rationally. Looking around for anything they could use to bar the door, Beth reached out for the metal shelving beside her and jarred it back and forth. When it gave under the force she exerted, she unstrapped the brace of her machete and set it on the middle shelf. She then grabbed onto the cold, thin bars that braced the shelves, lifted it from the floor, and pivoted it around to block the doorway. She stopped, allowing Daryl to slide past her, and pushed it against the door. Grabbing her machete, she took the lighter from Daryl and moved out of the way so that he could do the same with the second shelf, effectively securing the only entrance into the closet.
"Ain't as good as 'ah lock, but it's better than nothin'," Daryl stated and dusted off his hands.
Beth handed him the lighter when he stepped beside her.
"What do you think that was?" She asked with her gaze lingering on the door.
She heard him exhale through his nose beside her and she begrudgingly turned away from the door to look up at him.
"I'on know," he replied heavily, "Best if we take turns keepin' watch through the night. Just t'be on tha' safe side."
"You go ahead," she suggested and glared back at the door, "I'm not tired."
She felt his stare before he finally began digging through his pack. She heard a rustle of fabric and then the sound of a zipper. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he had begun rifling through her backpack, pulling out her blanket and laying it out beside his in the back corner of the room.
"How's tha' brace holdin' up?" He asked as he moved to sit, propping his elbows up on bent knees.
Beth looked down at the forearm machete in her hand and then at her arm.
"Seems fine," she walked to the back of the room and slide down the wall to sit beside him, "Its snug from the padding, but I don't think it'll give me any more bruises."
"Good," his voice sounding deep from exhaustion.
A sort of calm enveloped them and Beth felt herself becoming sluggish as the adrenaline filtered out of her system. Daryl's scent permeated her senses and she could feel his warmth through the thick material of her shirt. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she crossed them at her ankles, and placed her machete on the floor beside her. Pulling her long braid over her shoulder, she pressed the back of her head against the cool wall behind her, and stared up at the shadows flickering across the ceiling.
"If things weren't like they are," she spoke slowly, "what do you think you'd be doin' right now?"
"I dunno'," he answered and she could feel his shoulders brush against hers as he shrugged.
Her head lolled to the side and she gave him a wake smile, "Humor me."
His eyes found hers and the somber look he gave her made her furrow her brows. After several intense moments, Daryl broke eye contact with her and stared towards the door. She kept her gaze on his profile, trying to decipher what his expression had meant, and waited for him to speak.
"I'd probably still be doin' the same ole' shit with my brother," he finally answered.
"Like what?" She probed softly.
"Merle used t'drag me around with him and his gang," Daryl reminisced, "We'd drift from town t'town, raisin' hell, and getting' in all kinds 'ah trouble. I'd work odd jobs and Merle had his…trafficking."
"Trafficking?" She asked inquisitively.
"It's, uh…It don't matter," Daryl glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "What he did usually got him locked up in tha' pin and I'd hold down a steady job for 'ah while. He'd get out, find me, and it'd start all over again."
"So you'd just up an' leave whenever he showed up?" She questioned while studying his profile.
"Yep," he exhaled.
"He must've been really important t'you then," she murmured and resumed staring up at the ceiling.
"He was," Daryl concurred fondly.
The room was softly lit in an orange hue from the waning flame of Daryl's lighter. She watched him switch the silver object to his other hand, working the thumb that he'd used to relentlessly strike the thumbwheel until a flame erupted, and debated whether it would be too forward of her to take his hand in an effort to help alleviate the ache he seemed to be feeling. When he began shaking his hand violently in the air, attempting to get the blood flowing back into the appendage, she was resolved in her decision. She figured if he could hold her while she drenched his shirt with tears on an uncomfortable hospital bed, or soothe her after a particularly unsettling nightmare, the least she could do was try to ease the discomfort in his hand. Reaching out with steady hands, she grasped his wrist and brought it in front of her. He went rigid for a moment before he relaxed into her ministrations.
"What happened to him?" She inquired, rubbing soothing circles over his palm with her thumbs.
Daryl looked down, letting his chin rest against his chest, and took a deep breath. It wasn't until his eyes closed that he began to speak.
"The man who took down tha' prison," his nostrils flared and he grit is teeth, "Merle went out on his own t'try and stop him. Guess he decided he'd done enough bad shit in his life and wanted to make things right."
Her hands paused and tightened around his warm palm.
"I's tha' one who found him," he exhaled heavily and she could barely see his deep blue eyes through the fringe of his hair, "He'd been he shot through tha' chest and left t'turn. I took care of 'em. Brought him back to tha' prison and buried him further down from tha' rest of our dead."
Daryl's usually steady, raspy voice sounded strained. She couldn't remember what it felt like to lose someone, but she was could imagine the heartbreak from how close she'd been to losing Morgan a few weeks ago. Releasing his hand, she pulled her knees underneath her and turned to wrap her arms around his taunt shoulders.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into his neck.
She scooted closer when she felt his arm wrap around her waist, his other hand still holding the lighter, and rested her head against his shoulder. After a few moments, she moved to pull away, but his arm held her firmly in place. He didn't look up at her, but she took the gesture as a request for her to stay. Dropping her arms to wrap loosely around his middle, she rested her cheek over his steady heartbeat, and succumbed to the safety he yielded her in their foreign environment.
Her eyes focused on the small flame dancing around the top of the lighter and she breathed in the scent that had been lulling her to sleep for the past week. Her eyes began to flutter close, her legs stretching out to the side while getting more comfortable, and she wasn't sure if she was dreaming when she felt Daryl grazing his calloused fingers across the exposed skin of her lower back. It was the most intimate position she'd been in with a person, but somehow, with Daryl holding her in the small confines of the supply closet, she knew she was right where she belonged. Her body felt light, her breathing deep and even, and just like that, Beth fell asleep in Daryl's arms.
…
Daryl's eyes cracked open to a bright light creeping under the barricaded closet door. His neck was stiff from sleeping propped up against the wall and there was a weight pressed against him that his sleep addled mind couldn't explain. He furrowed his brows and pressed his eyes tightly shut, willing the haze of sleep to clear. He twitched a finger, his brain lazily requesting its assistance to rub his eyes, but his hand refused to disentangle itself from something soft and warm. Opening his eyes, he looked down to find Beth slung across his torso, her head resting on stomach while her arms were wrapped around him as if he were her pillow. One of his hands was buried in her blonde tresses while his other extended across the length of her back. He slowly withdrew his fingers from his hair, trying carefully to keep from disarranging her intricate braid.
With his hand now free, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and down the length of his face. He wanted badly to use his arm and push himself up higher along the wall. His back ached and his legs were numb from sitting on the hard floor all night. Glaring into the sunlight he realized how quiet it was, devoid of the sounds of birds or the morning bustle he was used to hearing within the walls of Alexandria. While Daryl preferred the serenity of the woods, the stillness of The Kingdom was unnerving.
Daryl eyes dropped from the door back to Beth sleeping soundly against him. As much as he hated to wake her, the ache in his neck and back had become too painful to ignore. He withdrew his arm from where it rested at the hem of her shirt and placed both of his palms against the floor while gently pushing himself to sit up straighter. The moment he moved, Beth's eyes snapped open, blinding reaching for the knife he knew she slept with under her pillow while she slept.
"It's jus' me," he whispered hoarsely.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and swiping her long bangs out of her face.
"Mornin'," Beth mumbled as she blinked languidly.
Daryl smirked, "Mornin'."
She looked around the room, focusing on the door for a moment before looking back at him, "So much for one of us keepin' watch."
"Yeah-"
Anything Daryl had planned to say after that died on his lips when a thunderous crash caught both their attention. The sound of someone running rebounded through the hall and a shadow flickered through the sunlight as whoever it was sped past the closet door.
"I knew we weren't alone," Beth hissed, grabbing her discarded machete and strapping it onto her arm.
Daryl was on his feet far too quickly then he would've liked. His skin felt as if it were being pricked by thousands of needles as blood circulated through his legs. He bent down and picked up his crossbow, slinging his pack over his shoulder, and moved to the door. They hastily removed the two metal shelves and Daryl gripped the handle of the door. He glanced over his shoulder, much as he had done when they entered the closet, and saw that Beth already had her pistol aimed and finger on the trigger.
Twisting the handle, he pulled the door open as quietly as possible, readying himself for the deafening sounds of Beth's gun. When silence followed and Beth shook her head, a signal he took to mean as the doorway was clear; he stepped around the hinged metal and peered out of the closet. The hallway, lit by the sun beaming through the tall windows at lined the walls, was empty. He debated on whether they should stay in the fragile security the closet offered them for a little while longer or take their chances in the school. Minus the walkers in the wrecked bus, they had absolutely no idea what had happened to The Kingdom, and Daryl needed to know. If there was something out there that frightened Ezekiel enough to evacuate his community and flee the safely of their homes, the same threat could beset Alexandria. Daryl knew he would never be able to live with himself if something happened to his community without him at least trying to unravel what had occurred within The Kingdom.
"C'mon," he gestured with his crossbow raised, "Ezekiel's office is down this 'ah way."
Beth didn't reply, but her boots 'clicking' against the tile informed him that she was following closely behind.
Daryl checked before turning down another corridor, taking them back towards the entrance of the school. Ezekiel had commandeered the principal's office as his own and thus Daryl felt it only logical to begin their search there. He stopped at the end of the hallway, sneaking a quick look around the corner into the large space that had once been the foyer of the school. Finding it clear, he gestured for Beth to follow him, while he led them to the office wing of the school.
Pulling open the glass door, reinforced on the inside by tin and particle board, they entered the office and Daryl's eyes immediately scanned their surroundings for any threats. With no one in their immediate vicinity, they thoroughly inspected each room, shutting doors and checking behind desks until they both agreed the area was safe enough to search.
"What're we lookin' for?" Beth asked as she followed him back towards Ezekiel's office.
"I dunno'," Daryl answered honestly, "Guess we'll know it when we see it."
"Great," Beth huffed behind him.
Daryl smirked at her cynicism and opened the door to the 'Principal's Office.' He had been to The Kingdom a handful of times, always discussing matters in Ezekiel's office, so he immediately noticed one important item missing from a small table in the far corner of the office.
"Tha' radio's gone," he spoke sharply as he strode across the room.
"What?" Beth asked; looking up from the papers she was sifting through.
"Ezekiel had it right here," Daryl gestured down towards the tabletop.
"Maybe it's in another one of the offices?" Beth offered.
Daryl scanned the room, finding no trace of the radio, and replied, "Look through tha' filing cabinet. See if you can find anything. I'm gonna' check the other rooms for tha' radio."
Beth nodded and moved to the tall, black cabinet behind Ezekiel's desk.
Daryl exited the 'Principal's Office' and opened the door to the room down the hall. The room was barren of anything save a desk and a rolling chair. The next room held much of the same. It wasn't until he got to the assistant principal's office towards the front of the office wing that he found anything useful.
"Beth," he called over his shoulder.
"Yeah?" Her voice sounded from down the short hallway.
"C'mere," he hollered, "Found somethin'."
Beth entered the room a moment later and stood beside him.
Daryl's gaze never left the dry erase board in front of them. A message was left for Rick in short, choppy sentences and he let his eyes drift over the letters written in purple ink once more.
Rick,
The Kingdom's been compromised. Taking buses to a secure location. Radio is secure. Will contact you when it's safe.
They have eyes everywhere. Don't trust anyone!
-Ezekiel
"You think he's talkin' about The Whisperers?" Beth's voice sounded weak to his ears.
"No tellin'," Daryl grumbled, "Safe t'assume so though."
"They should've been safe inside tha' walls," Beth propped a hand on her hip, "It makes no sense for them t'leave."
"'They have eyes everywhere,'" Daryl reread the sentence aloud.
Daryl noticed Beth's hand drift from her hip to her side; aware of the scarring tissue underneath the material of her shirt.
"We should check tha' classrooms," Daryl announced, forcing his eyes away from her abdomen, "Might be another message somewhere."
Daryl followed Beth out of the assistant principal's office, towards the reinforced glass door they had entered through, and paused as he pushed open the door for her. When there were no sounds that indicated someone was nearby, they exited the office wing into the foyer.
"Stick close t'me," he spoke in hushed tones, "whoever we heard could still be nearby."
"And you wanted to come here alone," she rolled her eyes, "I came t'watch your back and that's exactly what I'm gonna' do. I'll be right behind you."
Daryl huffed a laugh, "'Preciate it."
Beth titled her head and smirked.
Raising his crossbow, he turned his attention back to the empty foyer, and began moving silently into the darkness. They had found nothing that specified how long ago the community had been abandoned, where they went, or what had caused them to leave. He could only hope that they'd find something elsewhere to fill in some of those blanks. Then there was the impending threat awaiting them outside the walls while another had hidden themselves within The Kingdom, assuming they were two separate entities.
He had so many questions, even more theories, and none of them were promising. He needed to find out what happened so that he knew what they were up against. The Whisperers were out there, but he had no idea what else loomed in the shadows. Daryl knew they should pack up and go back to Alexandria before the sun set, that they should've left the moment he noticed someone had been following them in the woods, but he was determined to find out what had happened to Michonne and the others. The ominous message Ezekiel had left for Rick didn't rest well with him and he could only assume the worst since they had yet to make contact via radio.
Glancing over his shoulder, he took comfort in the fact that Beth had given him no choice in bringing her along. He was used to working alone and while he had survived some particularity sketchy situations, having Beth there with him bolstered his confidence. She wasn't quite the seasoned tracker that he was, but she was light on her feet and he had to admit that she retained for more stealth than anyone else in Alexandria. She'd proven she could handle herself, she was a sure shot and lethal with her machete, and she was absolutely determined to keep those she cared about away from harm.
She had always been strong, he'd seen that, but he had discerned a different kind of strength radiating from her since her return. Rick had been right when he said that she was a survivor. She'd survived death, waking to a world of chaos, and persevered despite the hindrances of her injury. Maybe he didn't have to fear losing her again. Maybe he could trust that she would always come back. Maybe Daryl had a chance at the happiness he'd tasted back at the mortuary.
If he was the 'last man standing,' maybe Beth would be there standing with him.
…
A/N: Yes…you can actually turn wasted plastic (water bottles, milk jugs, ziplock bags, etc.) into kerosene. You'd have to build a CP (Catalytic Pyrolysis) machine, but I don't foresee Eugene being unable to do something like that should they be able to find the appropriate parts. Kerosene is a viable alternative to the fluid used in lighters. It's not as volatile as alcohol or gasoline (which I would never suggest using in a lighter), but once you get it to light it should burn as effectively as the lighter fluid provided by companies to refill a lighter. Something to remember for all my 'prepper' readers who weren't aware of this little factoid! : )
So while this is a fictional story, you guys should know by now how I like to keep everything grounded in fact (or as close to as possible). I've had a few people inquire about Beth's memory situation so I decided to leave a brief author's note with a source to the information. Beth has what would probably be categorized as retrograde amnesia (There are two types of amnesia - retrograde and antegrade. Retrograde amnesia occurs when people are not able to remember their old memories.) Her semantic memory is intact (which explains why she is able to identify objects and how they work, read, write, and do everything else you learn through personal experience), however she has no memory of how she learned or knows about the things that are common knowledge. Her episodic memory (autobiographical events such as times, places, associated emotions, and other contextual who (familiar faces), what, when, where, why knowledge) was severely affected which is why she can't remember who anyone is or what happened prior to her injury. Again…I'm not a doctor or in the medical field. I've researched on several sights and it might not be textbook accurate, but this is a fictional story so I just do the best I can! Let me know what you guys thought of the chapter and I'll miss you all while I'm on vacation! XOXO
Source: www. human - memory disorders_ retrograde. html
(The link should read 'Retrograde Amnesia – Memory Disorders –The Human…')