Chapter 4
The sun was on the rise in the east. A dewy mist still clung on around them as they prepared for an ammo run. "Got everythin'?" Daryl asked. "Yeah, not much." Replied Beth, shaking their mostly empty back pack pointedly, only the faint papery sounds of cash wads and the jingling of small bits of metal could be heard inside.
The kitchen was as fully stocked as it could be, but they were low on everything else. She watched as he loaded an arrow bolt into his crossbow and pulled back the string. His hands were strong and expert. "We need another gun, you can't keep takin' mine." She interrupted him. "I saw some stores by the road on the other side of the woods, should be good." He said. "There'll be guns there?" she asked, wondering. "Yeah." He replied.
They set off walking through the expansive graveyard, side by side. "Hey, Daryl, you never said. Why did you keep the money and jewellery from the country club? It's not as if we need it now." He looked at her, deep in thought, his eyes narrowing in the milky light. She waited, limping slightly as she moved. He wanted to tell her that he wished he could use it one day, for a fresh start, he wanted the things normal guys his age had. Whatever the fuck normal was anymore. Not that he'd ever had 'normal'. It was a dumb idea anyway, but one he couldn't kill. "I dunno." Daryl shrugged. Beth smiled at him as he chewed on his lip. "Yeah you do." She said. "Its stupid." He grumbled. "I bet its not." She bumped his upper arm gently with her shoulder. He almost smiled. "Just, just if I need it, is all." He spoke, staring straight ahead. Beth's lips parted, a thought dawning on her. "I knew it, you do still have hope!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "Yeahh, well don't fuckin' shout about it." He warned. The threat in his voice made her tingle again. She noticed Daryl stop, the pleasure between her legs quickly fading away. He squatted to the ground, examining the damp grass closely. His fingers traced invisible lines. "What is it?" Beth edged, nervous. Looking up from him she saw the pale gravestone from yesterday, now adorned with a single bloody hand print. Droplets of vermillion had run down and soaked into the words: NOV 12TH 1837 – DEC 10TH 1874 BELOVED FATHER. Her flesh prickled with goose bumps and a strange creeping sensation wound its way up her spine. Stranger still, the pretty flowering weed Daryl had previously placed there was gone. In a moment he was at her side, pulling her away carefully. "C'mon, let's keep movin'..." he said, close to her ear.
"What was that?" she stared up at him, her blue eyes shining with confusion. "I dunno, but somethin' ain't right. Stay close or its on us." As they walked on past the other unassuming graves he couldn't fight the feeling of being watched, and he didn't like it one bit.
'What the fuck?' Beth thought, gripping her knife tightly. She could see Daryl was tense beside her. It put her on edge. She desired nothing more than to be sleeping next to him once again, to feel his calm breathing, but they couldn't do that. Maybe she'd dreamed it. Leaving her visions of him behind, something drew her eye.
A few paces away just before them, where the woods and the graveyard joined lay a body, coming into stark view as they got closer. It was a blood soaked mess, stomach ripped asunder, insides torn out and strewn on the splattered grass. Beth forced herself forward, sadness welling up in her chest. The jaw was stoppered in the shape of a silent scream but the corpse had no face to speak of, its identity eaten away. "Oh my God…" she whispered through suddenly dry lips. Daryl stood behind her, letting her lean back on his chest. He could feel her trembling, and wondered if she was thinking of her father. "C'mon, we need to keep movin'." He encouraged. For the first time in a long time he felt sick to his stomach at the sight before him, he needed Beth away from danger, he loved that innocence about her, and didn't want her near all the fuckin' ugly shit fillin' the world. It cost him to admit it to himself. She followed him into the trees, taking his hand as he steadied her path through. Looking back she sighed deeply. "We'll come back." He squeezed her hand tighter, interlocking her little fingers with his.
It seemed they'd been in the woods for hours. The humidity began to increase as they navigated the thick undergrowth and fallen branches. Now and again there was a rustling nearby. It had started to become unnerving. A twig cracked. And another. They stopped, hearing it again. Beth's heart was beating out of her chest. With every thump a second slipped by. The foliage to their left began to quiver, ghostly hands moving the leaves. Suddenly an awful groan clawed its way into her ears.