AN #1: Thank you everyone who reviewed! It means so much to me, that y'all tokk just a few seconds to comment.
And, uh. *cough* I got a crapton of views/visits, and like three reviews. What up with that people?
Disclaimer: I do not write for or own The Walking Dead and/or AMC.
They'd been running on empty – literally – for hours. The moon was no longer visible, and the inky black of night had begun to give in to the deep navy of early dawn.
They had reached the railroad hours ago, but finding no living tracks, headed west.
Daryl didn't mention what waited to the east, and Beth didn't ask.
The sun had begun its ascent when Beth simply stopped walking. Daryl slowed, then turned.
"We need an hour," she grumbled. "Half an hour for you to sleep, half an hour for me."
Little girl had grown some balls, but he couldn't argue. He nodded ambiguously, sealing it with a soft "okay".
He let her sleep first, under a dying azalea bush that rested just under the forest cover beside the tracks.
He kept the bush in sight as he scavenged for water, berries, mushrooms… Anything they could eat on the run. He considered taking a couple squirrels, but quickly ruled it out. They had already wasted enough time with his pouting the night before.
Plus, for all of Beth's newfound toughness, he doubted she would go for raw, still-warm squirrel guts.
When his search turned up nothing more than a handful of blackberries, he deemed it early enough to wake her.
He bent over her awkwardly, finally settling on poking her shoulder.
She awoke in a flurry, eyes wild. Her voice was strangled, choking on grief and terror. "Daddy!" she yelped desperately.
He didn't know how to respond to that.
He coughed, then held out the blackberries. "I only need fifteen," he murmured.
She took them with a sad half-smile, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Thank you," she managed quietly, all tremor erased from her voice.
He nodded, settling down.
He hesitated. "Don't be stupid," he clipped out. "If you see anyone – alive or dead – you wake me up."
She scoffed. He could practically feel her eyes rolling. "Okay then, Rick."
He chuckled a little to himself. And then he closed his eyes, and forced himself to sleep.
He regretted it.
His dreams had never made sense; had always had a psychedelic, horror-movie kind of feel to them. Even before the Turn, he had been terrified of what grotesque things his subconscious had planned for him that night.
The dream started out basic enough. He was sitting in Hershel's farm house, on a bed that was soaked red with blood. It was dark out, and the moans of the dead rolled through the house. He could see shadows of them through the lone window, but an intuition forbade him for looking closely.
Hershel stood in front of the old vanity, shaving with one of those old-timey razor blades.
He locked eyes with Daryl through the mirror and smiled.
"Take care of my girls now, son," he said in his fatherly, chiding tone that everyone had come to know so well.
And then he flicked his wrist.
His head hit the floor as Merle opened the door.
Merle raised his hands, placating, as Daryl began to scream, rushing over to the severed head.
"Now, now, baby brother. We're all gone. You know that."
Daryl kept right on screaming as he reached the white-haired scalp.
But when he turned Hershel's head over, it wasn't Hershel anymore.
Sophia stared up at him, a bloody bullet hole through her forehead.
Her eyes were clear though, her face it's natural tan.
The scream died in his throat.
"Sophia?" he asked tentatively.
The blonde girl smiled. "You can't save us, Daryl. But you can save them."
Her eyes flicked towards the window, and Merle laughed.
Daryl followed the girl's gaze to the window.
Carl. Rick. Maggie. Glenn.
Carol. Holding Judith.
They banged against the glass, their bloody maws open to display row after row of shark teeth.
"Go on, baby brother. Let them in. Save them."
Daryl's eyes flitted between his brother and the window, panicked, horrified. A shrill scream was peaking in his throat, when, one by one, the bloody teeth disappeared. The looks of fury morphed to expressions of agony and grief. Their hungry pounding turned to desperate clawing.
Their screaming to crying.
When he looked back at Merle, Beth was standing in his place. She shot him a look of disgust.
"Fine. I'll do it."
She raised her gun at the window.
"Stop! You'll hurt them," he begged, tears blurring his vision, leaving hot trails down his cheeks.
She hesitated, then turned to face him again.
The rifle was trained on him.
Her voice was soft, comforting; contrasting starkly with her look of cold determination.
"Time to wake up, Daryl," she sang, a look of murder reflected in those blue eyes.
She pulled the trigger.
AN #2: Thanks so much for reading! If you liked it, let me know! If you didn't love it so much, let me know too! I can't fix things if I don't know they're broken. (Also, I don't have a beta. It's just me over here, tapping away on a laptop. So if you catch something, please tell me.)
I have no idea where this story is going, or if it will be going anywhere. I'm just making it up as I go, so, like I said, we'll say.
Thanks again! You guys are so amazing. 3
