Chapter 3: 3rd Life

All she could remember was watching helplessly as the walkers swarmed her and Andrea. She remembered seeing them fall over Andrea. Then she'd began to run, something inside of her fighting that instinct to just freeze up and let go. She certainly could have. She could have ended the pain of knowing the horrible death her daughter had endured. She could have ended the wondering of what would happen, she could have just let it happen, but that would be giving up, and she couldn't do that, not when Daryl had fought so hard to look for Sophia. He hadn't given up on looking Sophia. She couldn't give up on herself.

She's stumbled toward the wood-rail fence, her calves aching, her lungs burning. She tripped over a root that stuck up out of the ground, and she fell hard against the fence, her head banging into one of the rails. Dizzy and aching, she sat against the fence post, images of the fire and the herd of walkers swarming the farm blurred together. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be ok, and when she opened them, she saw a figure looming over her.

She opened her mouth to scream, but only a choked sob escaped, and she scrambled up, her fingers clutching at the fence posts.

"Get away," she begged, knowing it would do her no good. She pulled herself up, scraping her knuckles in the process, and she dragged herself toward the little gravel road, putting distance between herself and the walker just as another walker grabbed at her from the darkness.

"No!" she screamed. "Help me!" She ducked out of its grasp and began to run until her legs gave out, and she had to stop for a breath. It was then that she heard the faint rumble of Daryl Dixon's motorcycle coming closer. She froze, seeing the single headlight coming closer, and it was then that she realized this might not be it after all. The closer he came, the more terrified she became, as the walkers inched toward her, reaching, snarling, biting.

He pulled up, hollering for her, and she ducked out of the reach of another walker.

"C'mon! I ain't got all day!" he called gruffly, as she pulled herself behind him on the motorcycle, and he drove off leaving a trail of walkers following slowly behind them.

Her arms held tight around his middle, and she rested her cheek against his back for a moment, letting her breathing return to normal. She could feel him breathing hard as they sped down the road toward the highway, and she closed her eyes, feeling the wind whipping against her face, feeling that satisfying freedom from the clutches of death wash over her.

At some point, Daryl slowed the bike to a stop.

"Y'alright?" he asked, peering over his shoulder as she lifted her head.

"Why'd you stop?"

"You're shakin'." She pulled her arms away from him, realizing her entire body was, indeed, shaking, and she looked up into his eyes.

"I'm alright," she assured him. "Thank you."

"You bit? You scratched?" He hopped off the bike, his hands instinctively moving out to her arms, where blood was beginning to dry from the scratches she got when she fell. Her eyes met his.

"I'm fine. I fell. I'm not bit." She let out a slow breath, and Daryl chewed his bottom lip. "We should keep going. The others might be waiting." A beat. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"Nine lives," he said with a chuckle, pulling his leg back over the bike and starting the engine.

"Like a cat?" she asked with a little chuckle. He didn't answer her, but she smiled a little, pulling her arms back around his waist. "If we get nine lives in this world, I think I've already burned through a couple."

Daryl revved the engine, and he took off with her again, speeding off as a stray walker reached out, clipping its hand on the side of the bike, flesh and bone tearing away from its arm, leaving it snarling in the exhaust of Daryl's bike.

Infected. Carol shivered as she sat by the fire after Rick Grimes made his startling confession. He knew they were all infected, and it took Shane's death to prove it to him. There was no hope for an after. All there was was this. Live until you're dead, and then pray to God that someone has the decency to put a bullet in your brain so you don't come back.

"He lied to us," Carol murmured. Daryl tossed a piece of straw into the fire. Somehow, it had gotten stuck in his boot at the farm, and he'd been rolling it between his fingers for the longest time..

"He had his reasons, I guess," Daryl murmured.

"What reasons? One of us had to die before he got his answer." She bit back a sob.

"He's a good man," Daryl insisted. "He got us this far." Carol turned to him, her hand jerking slightly at her knee as she suppressed the urge to reach out and touch him.

"He's a good man," she said with a nod, "but you? You fought for my daughter. That makes you a hero."

"Ain't nobodys damn hero," he grumbled. A little smile curled up at Carol's lips, when she saw the hint of a blush filling Daryl's cheeks..

"You're mine," she said softly.

"Stop."

She ducked her head, smiling before shifting her gaze toward the fire, watching the wisps of flames crackling, popping and yawning toward the heavens, swallowing up the darkness.