The Last Straw

Sarah

Getting out of the car was the first thing on Sarah's mind when they pulled into Scott's driveway. Marco had been so annoying, asking about fifty questions about Daryl. He apparently didn't get the hint that Sarah didn't want to talk about him.

Marco got out with a few of the others to clear the few zombies on the street, careful to avoid using guns, which would only attract more. It seemed relatively safe after they eliminated the ones in sight; there weren't that many, and Rick said they'd be unlikely to see a herd.

Scott's beautiful house was at least a momentary distraction from Sarah's thoughts of Daryl. It was painted a sunny yellow with white trim. He told them that he and his wife had designed it together; she had been an interior designer. Flowering plants in pastel colors lined a nice stone path up to the front door.

"Ready for the tour?" Scott asked her. Sarah nodded and they stepped inside. It was as visually pleasing as the outside. The floors were a dark wood and it featured high ceilings. "There are six bedrooms," he said when everyone came inside. "A couple of them have bunk beds…there should be enough space for everyone."

Rick addressed the group next. "We'll probably stay here for a few days, maybe organize a trip to the city for some more supplies before we set sail. Scott says he knows Savannah pretty well."

Sarah watched as Daryl walked to the living room window and looked out toward the ocean, a thoughtful look on his face. She still didn't know what the hell his problem was, and was nearly desperate to find out. It was driving her crazy; once she started dwelling on something, she could rarely stop until her questions were answered.

Rosalyn caught up with Sarah and they went upstairs to claim a room. They found one on the end of the hall that was painted a light greenish-blue, Sarah's favorite color. Rosalyn would have preferred something a bit darker, but didn't argue.

"You either need to stop moping or tell me what the hell is wrong," Rosalyn said. Sarah had refused to tell her what was wrong earlier that day. "It's with that hick, isn't it?"

"I wish you'd stop calling him that, you're just mad that he killed a deer."
"Well, the deer didn't do anything to him, did it? How did the deer deserve to be shot?"

"I don't know what's so hard for you to understand, Rose. Surviving means doing things you wouldn't normally do," Sarah snapped at her friend, an odd occurrence as she was usually pretty calm and patient with Rose's eccentricities.

"Fine, mope around by yourself. You let me know when you want to talk to someone," Rose said as she walked out of the bedroom and shut the door loudly behind her.

The bedroom featured two twin-sized beds, and Sarah took this opportunity to claim the one closest to the window. She laid down, feeling guilty of the way she snapped at Rose. She was just so sick of it all; so sick of her friends constantly insulting Daryl even though he hadn't done anything to them, and so sick of wondering what was wrong with him. She had fallen for him so fast and his coldness was tearing her apart. Sarah had never been one to handle rejection well, if that's even what it was considered.

She rolled over on her side to face the window. She could see Scott's dock where his "sailboat" was anchored. It was more of a medium-sized yacht. Apparently he had just been modest when describing it before. At least it would be an easier ride to Massachusetts if they were in a bigger boat.

It didn't take Sarah long before she got lonely; she hated being by herself. She walked downstairs again and saw Scott sitting outside on the back porch on some wicker furniture. "You have a really nice beach house," Sarah said. The others had started a game of volleyball, except Daryl, who laid in the sand staring up at the sky.

"Thank you. Brenda loved it more than anything," he said.

"I can see why…Do you know where she is?" Sarah asked, hoping she wouldn't upset Scott.

As always, he maintained a level head and took a beer bottle out of a cooler sitting next to him. He cracked it open, took a sip, then answered "Well she was back home in New York…so I'm not sure. I mean by the looks of Savannah and Atlanta, the cities haven't yielded many survivors. Maybe it's just the worst in the south; you can always hope." He offered her a smile, knowing Sarah's family was in New York when it all happened too.

"Yeah, I hope things are better there," she said.

He got two more beers out of the cooler and asked if she wanted one. She nodded, even though she had never been one for beer. "Why don't you go offer Daryl one, too?" he suggested, giving her a knowing look.

She took it hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to approach him and ask him about the previous night or not. Sarah sat there a few moments before she could gather the courage to get up and stride over to him. "Wanna beer?" She waved the brown bottle in front of his face as she took a sip of hers.

He shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at her. "I'll pass," he said, in the same cold tone that he had employed the night before.

She sat down next to him, sick of the games. She just wanted to be an adult about the situation. "Daryl, what's wrong? I don't know what I did wrong."

"I think I was clear about the fact that I don't want to be around ya'll anymore. I just want to be left the hell alone."

"Oh sorry, I didn't get that. I guess I was too busy getting made out with and led on," she said sarcastically, giving him a dirty look.

He was quiet for a bit, and then stood up, taking the extra beer from her hand. "Thanks for the booze," he said before walking away.

'Fine, forget it,' she thought, seething with frustration. 'I'm done, you win.'

She looked at Scott, who gave her a puzzled look as Daryl walked past him and into the house. Sarah went back to the porch and sat down again.

"What was that about?" he asked.

Sarah sighed. "Don't ask me. I couldn't tell you if I tried."

"I thought you two were getting to be close friends, or even more…" Scott said, pushing the subject further.

"Well I thought so too, but I guess not." Sarah looked down at the wooden floorboards of the porch. When she looked back up, she changed the subject. "So what condition is the boat in? Do we need to do anything to fix it up before we leave?"

"It's perfectly functional…maybe a little dusty inside."

"Where can I get some cleaning supplies?" she asked, looking for any sort of distraction from the situation with Daryl.

"I'll go get them!" Scott said. He went inside for a couple moments and then emerged once more holding a bucket with gloves, Pledge, a few rags, and other assorted cleaning supplies. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem, it's not like I have anything better to do," she said, taking the bucket of supplies from his hand and walking toward the boat.

She saw a spider within the first five minutes she was cleaning it, and knew it would be nearly impossible to get the job done. Sarah was probably more afraid of spiders than zombies. It was something about their legs, or maybe just the way they moved in general. Daddy long-legs weren't even real spiders, but they bothered her all the same.

Sarah opened the door to the cabin of the boat. It resembled her parents' boat that they kept in a New York marina, only taking it out once or twice a year. She began dusting everything in sight, realizing she'd done more cleaning since the outbreak began than she'd done in her entire life.

"Die! Die! Die!" she exclaimed when one of the revolting creatures crawled near her foot. She stomped around like a crazy person.

"Calm down there," Rosalyn said, appearing at the doorway. "Need some help?"

Sarah nodded. "You could kill the spiders for me."

"I'd be glad to," her friend smiled. She picked up a rag and started helping Sarah dust everything off.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I just got tired of you and Marco saying shit about Daryl even though you didn't even know him. But I found out that he's a jerk today, so I guess you can say whatever you want to me now."

"I know we've been harsh…it's just hard for Marco and I to even imagine you being with someone else. You've had other boyfriends, sure…but it seems like they've just filled in until you and Marco get back together. You seem different with Daryl."

"Well, I was starting to fall for him."

"It's that motorcycle," Rose laughed. "You and your biker men…ridiculous. What would your dad say?"

"He wouldn't be happy, that's for sure," Sarah laughed. Then her face fell. "It doesn't matter, whatever was going on between Daryl and I is over now."

"Just tell me what happened…You're being so vague," she whined.

"Last night, Daryl asked me to go hunting with him. Or, watch him hunt, rather. We ended up making out in the forest…we almost had sex. Right before we were about to, he just got up, punched a damn tree, and went back to camp. He refused to talk to me, like I'm the one who did something wrong."

Rosalyn thought for a moment. "Well I don't think it was anything sexual…I mean Marco thought you were good in bed, which is an impressive feat." She was referring to the fact that Marco had had sex to many women, but still considered Sarah his best.

"Yeah, I'm just clueless. Whatever I mean I give up I guess."

"You and him aren't meant to be together…he's just too different from us. I'm not trying to be a snob because I know you really liked him, but it's true."

"I guess you're right," Sarah sighed.

They continued to clean for a long while, until every surface was shiny and new-looking and most of the spiders were eliminated. "Much better," Sarah said, smiling at their job well done. She couldn't wait to show Scott.

When Rosalyn and Sarah came back in from the boat, Scott was busy grilling dinner. He had gone down to his freezer in the basement of the beach house and found some frozen chicken. Sarah found some apricot preserves and made a little sauce out of them to glaze the chicken with after it was done cooking. She was happy to be stranded with someone like Scott, who enjoyed the art of cooking as much as she did.

Everyone sat down to eat his huge dining room table. The house made Sarah feel a little more at home again; Scott was clearly well-to-do. Money wasn't all that mattered to her, she just grew up around expensive things, so being in such an environment again gave her the comforts of home.

"Too bad we didn't find you sooner," Glenn started after taking a bite of his chicken, "no one knew how to cook before."

"Wow, thanks." Maggie glared at him and he sat a little lower in his chair.

"No offence taken here," Lori said. "This is great. Still cooked over a fire, but at least it has flavor."

"It's very tasty, thank you!" Carl smiled. Rick and Lori seriously had the cutest kid in the world.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah looked at Daryl. She tried to stop herself, but couldn't. He had already finished his chicken and was sitting in silence.

"I'm glad everyone liked it," Scott beamed at them all and stood to take care of their plates.

"So we were talking, and I think a few of us are going to be making a trip to Savannah tomorrow for supplies," Rick said. After a worried look from Lori, he said "I was thinking T-dog and I would stay here and make sure everything stays safe, and if they're up for it, Daryl, Glenn, Marco, and Scott would go into the city. What do you say guys?"

"Well you know I'm fine with it," Scott said, smiling in his fatherly way.

"I'm in," Marco said. "I kinda miss bein' in the city."

Maggie told Glenn that there was no way he was going into the city, but he argued "We're going to need more than three people if we plan to split up. I'll go Scott."

Daryl nodded that he would go too. Sarah was kind of glad that she wouldn't have to worry about seeing him at camp the next day, but knew she'd just end up worrying about him when he left. She barely thought of Marco, but hoped he ended up okay too, of course.

"Alright, we'll leave when the sun's out," Scott said. "Hopefully it's not too cloudy and dark, the walkers seem much more active whenever that happens."

"Yeah, we've had some experiences in the city with the rain…and the dark," Glenn said. "Let's just try not to get stuck on top of a department store this time."

After they cleaned up from dinner, Sarah went to the room Marco was staying in. She knocked on the door softly, and heard his familiar voice say "Come on in."

He was sitting on his bed, sharpening his knife. "My favorite girl," he smiled. It was the usual greeting she got whenever he saw her, but even so, she hadn't heard it in a while. "What's going on?"

"Just cleaned up," she said, watching him sharpen the knife and sitting down on the bed next to him. "You're going to be careful tomorrow right?"

"Not careful, smart. It's not that hard to get out of a jam, especially when these things are dumber than dirt. It's nothing like the mob was…now that was some scary shit. Had some pretty close calls, but you just gotta learn to use your brain."

She rested her head on his shoulder. He felt more like an older brother now than an ex-boyfriend. "Then be smart, whatever. Just come back is what I'm trying to say."

He stopped sharpening his knife. "Rose told me what happened between you and that redneck. Look, if you really like him, it's whatever. You know I'll get over it and I really do want you to be happy. We've had our time and I accept it. But I still care about you and if he's going around hurting you for no apparent reason, he and I are going to have a problem."

"Well too late, he already hurt me once; it's not like I'm letting it happen again," Sarah said.

"I'm sorry." Marco hugged her and kissed the top of her head, though not in a romantic way. She was so relieved that he was finally accepting the fact that they were just friends. It had only taken over a year since their last break-up, after all. "Well if you decide you want me to kick his ass or push him off the top of a building, you just say the word."