Verlaine, Thrash, and Jimmy didn't stay too long after that. Mostly, because Thrash seems to be the small groups leader, couldn't stand Shane's death glares anymore and Verlaine seemed to become anxious towards everyone else. Before they left, though, Verlaine came up to me, having a serious aura about her.
"You don't plan to stay with these guys, do ya?" she said, crawling into my tent and plopping herself down onto the air mattress next to me. I set the novel I was reading down and looked at her soberly.
"I don't know. We literally met them yesterday," I said as she sighed and pushed the purple hair out of her eyes. "Why, do you have something planned?"
"Sort of," she muttered, looking down at her crossed legs and toying with her combat boot's shoelace.
"Well, what is it?" I asked, turning to face her. Verlaine exhaled slowly and patted my knees.
"We're leaving tonight," she said.
I shook my head. "I knew you were gonna leave pretty soon."
She paused to regain her thoughts. "I want to make a pact with you, of sorts."
I chuckled lightly and looked out of the open tent entrance, to Daryl and Merle chatting angrily about what Rick said earlier.
"What kind of pact?" I asked interestedly, furrowing my eyebrows as she once again huffed a breath of self-annoyance. "You can say it."
"Don't tell Daryl," she whispered, coming close to my ear and looking at him, "but we should make some sort of rendezvous."
My upper lip curled in confusion just as she picked it up.
"In a year, if we're both still alive, we meet up in that one gift shop in Atlanta."
Before I could ask why in the world she wanted to do this, Daryl started walking this way. He was obviously in one of his moods. He was talking to himself angrily, trying to contemplate something. It didn't seem to be good news.
"Verlaine," he greeted, as calmly as he could. We both stared at him with curiosity as his eyes changed from Daryl-like infuriation to a more calm state of mind. It was only around Verlaine and I that his impatience quickly turned into content.
Verlaine quickly scooted out of the tent as Daryl entered, giving her a look of perplexity as she passed by.
"What was that all about?" he asked as he sat next to me, right where Verlaine sat. I shrugged my shoulders.
"They're leaving tonight," I said. He grunted and nodded his head.
"I suppose it had to happen, if not tonight, then tomorrow morning."
I nodded along with him and took his hand as a flash of sorrow seemed to cross his mind. He definitely wasn't acting like himself today.
"Okay, so I have to ask," I said worriedly, stroking his hand with my thumb like I always did. He took notice of it and smiled. "Why are you acting… not yourself?"
Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked me in the eyes. "I'm not, why?"
I thought that maybe this kind of world was finally getting under his skin. Probably not, I told myself, smiling at Daryl when he smiled sweetly at me, this is Daryl we're talking about here
But, of course, even the best fall sooner or later.
"Uh, Shane wanted to talk to you," Daryl said, clearing his throat uncomfortably and nodding toward the direction of his tent. I held back a whine.
"Can't it wait until morning?" I asked as though he knew the answer. Daryl laughed and raked his fingers through his hair.
"I don't think he'd like that very much."
I made an 'ehh' sound and stood up, stretching my sore muscles, being newly aware of the gash on my leg from earlier. I subconsciously bent down and rubbed it; the kitchen towel was soaked with blood.
Gross. At least it camouflaged with my jeans.
An awkward silence hung over me as I neared Shane's tent.
I did not want to talk to him, especially when exhausted.
I politely knocked on the metal poles that kept the fabric of the tent up, smiling warmheartedly when he glanced up at me. Lori and Carl were both sleeping.
"Hi," he whispered through the mesh windows, quietly unzipping the tent and stepping out of the tent. He stood there as I waited for what he wanted.
"What's up?" I said, the slightest bit of impatience making my voice sound a bit whiny.
He walked over to where his Jeep sat stationary and pulled out a handheld Desert Eagle. It wasn't a Beretta, but I was still overjoyed when he placed it into my hands.
"A few people are going to town tomorrow morning," he explained, hanging onto his belt buckle with his thumbs, "view it as a chance to earn your stripes."
I stifled in a giggle as I traced the safety switch. "Is Daryl going, too?"
He shook his head. "No, Merle will be, though. I assume he needs to be occupied with something so he doesn't kill anybody, right?"
I raised my eyebrows and chuckled as Shane started heading back towards his tent. He just about unzipped it when he took notice of my leg.
"What happened?" he asked, the meager panic in his voice making it seem that he was suspicious of my wrapped leg.
"I got shot," I said bluntly, careful not to show defense in my voice. Does he think I'm stupid? Does he really think I'd get bit and not tell anyone about it? "Well, actually, a bullet grazed my leg."
His shoulders became less tense. "Have you put anything on it yet?"
"A towel," I smirked, extending the leg and looking down at it. "I haven't even cleaned it yet."
Shane looked around for any spare buckets of water lying around, and when one wasn't found, he took me by the arm and directed me toward his Jeep.
"There's a lake nearby," he said as he opened the passenger door and pulled out a first aid kit from under the seat, "put something on it while I go get some water."
Shane didn't wait for an answer, slamming the door shut and jogging around to the other side. He drove away before I could tell him there were no alcohol pads in the kit.
As I waited, I sat in one of the lawn chairs, extending my wounded leg out on another chair's armrest and unwrapping the crispy kitchen towel off my calf. I cringed as the cloth stuck to the dried blood on the cut.
Instead of rewrapping the cut with some gauze and tape from the kit, I waited until Shane came back with water. As I waited, I listened intently around me to tell if anyone was awake. The only noise that could be heard was the warm summer breeze crinkling the tree's leaves and the infrequent howl of an animal. I started getting restless when Shane finally pulled up.
"What took you so long?" I whined, chuckling slightly when he took me seriously. He turned off the engine and got out of the car, grabbing the full bucket of water before sitting on the chair that I propped my leg on.
"I was only gone five minutes," he muttered, lifting an eyebrow as he inspected the hole in my jeans, carefully tracing the outer edges of the two inch long gash. "Well, it's healing well."
"That's good to hear," I drowsily said, relaxing back in my chair as he took my leg off the armrest and set it across his lap. I felt his fingers trail higher than the gash that was just below the back of the knee, and I opened one eye and lifted my head. "What are you doing?"
"Seeing if any bullet shards came off and stuck in the upper part of your leg," he said, barely moving his lips when he spoke. A smile broke out across my face.
"You're a bad liar," I accused, and when he smiled and didn't say anything back, I let my neck rest once again. Since my eyes were closed and resting like the rest of my body, only my ears and the sense of touch could tell me what was happening.
I heard him reach in the bucket with a towel, one that I hoped wasn't the same towel that I wrapped my leg with, and ring the towel out. He blotted my wound and the surrounding area before a click echoed in my ears, then something similar to sawing sounds followed.
"Is it really that bad, you're sawing my leg off?" I joked, opening my eyes and lifting my head to see what he was up to. Already, half of my pants were cut off. "Shane, these are my favorite jeans!"
He stifled a laugh. "Your only pair of jeans, I assume?"
I crossed my arms and furrowed my eyebrows. "I still could have taken them off!"
Shane's eyebrows rose curiously, which made me angrier.
"I could have changed into boxers!" I yelled, frustrated, not being able to help a slight smile escape when his eyebrows fell. He knew where I would be getting a pair of boxers from.
Instead of replying back with some snarky comment about Daryl, Shane bandaged me up and patted my leg. I set them down on the ground and disappointedly watched him as he got up from the chair and made his way back to the tent.
"Thanks!" I called, standing up and watching hopefully as he turned around.
"If you ever get tired of Daryl's boxers, you know where to find me," he said, almost seriously, and climbed into his tent. I stood there awkwardly and waited until he zipped the entrance back up before scoffing and returning to my tent, almost as disappointed as I was excited.
Wait, did Shane just offer… ah, never mind.