Resurrection
Chapter 20 - Something Old, Something New
53 days ago...
May 5th 2008, 10:42pm, Savannah, Georgia
"This is Clive, Joyce and Boyd" Vernon stated and pointed at three elderly people who were hiding in the old morgue they were entering. Murphy followed the old man, nervously chewing on his thumbnail and watching the strangers with a frown. The others didn't exactly look that welcoming, just like Brie, who had spent their entire walk over here complaining about how Vernon shouldn't just let Murphy in like that.
The Irishman had been quite distrustful himself until now. During the past couple of months he had encountered far more bad people than good, but he thought that old people were always a good sign. Mostly. Although he still couldn't really remember much about his old life he thought that he'd known two elderly men, people who had been nice, who he had loved. He couldn't remember their names or their relationship though. Maybe one of them had been his grandfather, or even his father, but he honestly couldn't remember. Whoever they had been: they were the reason why it wasn't -too- hard for him to trust these strangers now.
As soon as they had entered the morgue Vernon shut the door behind him, giving Brie the chance to start complaining all over again.
"We don't even know where he's from or what's he doing here. He could be from Crawford for all we know…" she said and Vernon walked past her, so he could walk over to the old lady called Joyce, who was lying on one of the beds of the former body refrigerator.
"He told us, he isn't from Crawford. You saw those soldiers chase the boy. None of these people were from around here."
Brie gave Murphy an angry look and pointed at him.
"You don't know that for sure, Vernon. You've seen what they've been capable of. It could be another one of their tricks to hunt us down.
Kill us, steal our food, our medicine, our…"
"I'm from Boston" Murphy interrupted her, mumbling and chewing on his thumbnail, looking quite intimidated by the woman. It was like being a little boy watching his parents fight, although he couldn't remember his parents. He was too hungry and too exhausted to put up a fight himself, and it wasn't like he would beat or even put a hand on a woman or old people in general. He honestly just wanted to stay, crash for the night and maybe sleep for a bit.
"An I came here looking fer this Crawford place. I fled ta Augusta, but those people were a buncha crazies.." he tried to explain himself, reason with them. He then pointed at Vernon.
"Ye saw them chase me with their guns 'n everything. I honestly swear that I'm not fram this Crawford place, cross my heart. I…" he swallowed hard and then fixed his eyes on Vernon. "If I could just stay fer the night until all of 'em are gone and I could…" he turned his head again and looked at sulking Brie.
"I could pull my own weight. You..you need anything? I came across a buncha stuff back at this hospital place here, I can get tha if ye need it. 'm good at that. It's how I survived this mess on me own. I'm fast and agile. I can help ye a lot, actually" he said and then nodded towards Joyce, who was obviously in much pain from something. "What's te matter with her?" he asked and tried to get closer, but once again Brie placed herself right in front of him to keep him from entering the morgue any further.
"Funny that. The hospital, you say. You think we wouldn't know that this place is completely off limits? Overrun with these…things. It's right on top of us, we've tried, there's no entering this place!" she turned around and looked at Vernon once more. "You can't believe him. He's from Crawford. He'll go back to them and tell them where we are!"
"It's the cancer" Vernon said and ignored Brie, looking straight at Murphy.
"She's got her good days and bad days. Today it's one of the latter. The pain gets so bad sometimes that…" he sighed and stroke Joyce's hair.
"Stop telling him all about us! Don't you remember their views? They believe that sick people are a liability! They'll come down here and finished where they left of! Don't you remember what they did to Albert? Gracie? We should just kill him. Stop him from going back to them" she said and Murphy tensed, fists clenching, jaw tightening. And once again he was back to the people wanting to kill him, no matter where he went. It was an absolute nightmare, he hated it, he wanted it to end and he wanted that stupid woman to shut up, so he finally lost his temper.
"Just shut up ye schtupid hag! I told ye, I'm not from this fuckin Crawford place, are ye deaf or what? I came all the way down here cos I knew that my pursuers can't stand te place either. I don't even know what's up with tha place! First time I saw it up close was when I saw tha freaky wall of theirs up there, then yer grandda showed up and told me ta follow him. I didn't ask fer this shit, I just thought 'finally! there's some nice people who are not out ta bloody kill me!' I don't wanna cause any trouble, alright!" he spat and then pulled his gun and knife, which startled the whole group and made Brie gasp in shock. She backed off and tried to run away, but Murphy threw the weapons right to her feet.
"Here, take 'em. And if ye wanna kill me, ye better take yer time and aim right. Cos I'm not in tha fuckin mood ta be shot and survive the whole thing a second fuckin time just cos all the people around me are too schtupid t'use a fuckin gun and just kill me right" he said angrily and pointed at his forehead, where the obvious scar was, the one that Vernon and Brie both had looked at more than once ever since they'd met. Once again he was incredibly angry and breathing heavily because of the turmoil in his chest. His face was red because of the anger, the frustration, the hurt of constantly being turned down or hunted ever since his brother had abandoned him and Simmons had been killed.
Brie did take the gun, but Vernon got up and pressed her arms down. He walked past the member of his group and then looked at Murphy, eyeing him head to toe and then fixing his eyes on the ugly scar on his forehead. The younger MacManus felt embarrassed once again, looking down and kneading his sweaty fingers with his thumbs.
"What's your name, boy?" he asked and the fight suddenly left Murphy's body. Now he was just tired and upset. And he was facing the two options once again. Tell the truth, lie, tell the truth, lie. Murphy from Boston, who had been shot by his own brother. Murphy from Boston, who had been a serial killer before the apocalypse, or: David McGillian, the lonely survivor of a raid back in Boston. The lonely man who had lost his wife and daughter during the outbreak. Normal, poor guy, no threat, a family man.
He chewed on his lower lip and then looked at his feet.
"David" he said and there was a long pause after that.
Vernon examined him for a while, as if he was trying to make up his mind, then he suddenly placed a hand on Murphy's shoulder and nodded.
"Okay, David. Here is how we are going to do this. We're not going to let you leave this morgue for now. You pull your own weight, you tell us all about you and give us time to get to know you and trust you. We trust you, you can stay for as long as you want, and you can help us. You mess this up or it turns out that you are from Crawford - I won't stop Brie from killing you."
"Vernon, you can't honestly.."Brie protested, and before Murphy got a chance to answer the old man suddenly turned around and walked back to the woman, so he could talk to her with angry whispers.
"Brie. I know what you are trying to tell me, but just think about this for a minute. This boy could be a goldmine for us. He is young and healthy, he can move his arms and legs and he told us that he is good at getting supplies. He could go up there for us, bring us medicine and food and he would be a whole lot faster and better than any of us. I mean, just look at us!" he hissed and then pointed at the other three elderly and sick members of his group. Brie had a look around and then pressed her lips together, obviously not liking the idea, but admitting that Vernon was right.
"Or he could get us all killed" she hissed back and then walked away with a headshake, eyes fixed on Murphy as she kneeled down next to sickly Joyce so she could squeeze her hand and help her get through the pain. Vernon concentrated on Murphy again, who had decided that he hated Brie. He was staring at her through narrowed eyes, even considering to just hiss at her, or stick out his tongue and show her his middle finger because she was being such a cow. Vernon examined him a little while longer, only to point at the body refrigerator.
"You can take the one at the far end if you want. You'd be surprised how comfortable they are" he said and chuckled.
Murphy looked at the thing, only to start chewing on his thumbnail again.
"I dunno" he mumbled and then pointed at the other side of the room, past the large blackboard and cupboards.
"I'd rather…stay back there?"
Vernon turned around with a frown.
"By the elevator?"
Murphy nodded and kept chewing, fingernails aching because he had almost chewed the down to bare flesh. Vernon sighed and shrugged.
"If that's what you want."
Murphy nodded once more, slowly walking over there, eyes fixed on Brie and the other two men, who hadn't said a single word yet. They actually looked friendly and nice, but he still didn't trust them. He hated knowing that he was kind of locked up in here for now, in an old abandoned candlelit morgue with old people that he didn't know. He also knew that it would be kind of easy for him to kill them all, or escape this hideout.
Except that he didn't want to. He had nowhere else to go, he wanted to be with people, nice people. He just wanted to stay down here and hide, below street level, far away from Augusta and its soldiers, far away from all the people who knew about his immunity and wanted him because of that. So he kept walking, not wanting to cause any trouble, suddenly feeling upset, lonely and helpless. He didn't know why. Sometimes moods like this just hit him. Finding new and relatively reasonable people was supposed to be a good thing after Augusta and Boston. But he still hated it, because he felt like an outsider, all alone, without a group, friends, family.
He could see how Brie was taking care of Joyce, holding her hand, stroking her shoulder and helping her drink and felt a sting in his heart. He hated to know that there was no one out there who could do the same with him. Part of him just really wanted a hug, someone to hold him and take care of him, family like that bastard brother of his who had shot and abandoned him, or friends like Simmons, who he still missed way too much. He missed having a father figure with him, missed having someone in his life he knew he could trust and talk to.
"Thanks fer letting me stay" he suddenly said and stopped walking in the middle of the room, only to let his gaze wander and look at the small group of old people.
He wanted them to know that he didn't want to hurt them, and that he didn't want to get hurt in return.
"And fer not killing me" he said and was honest about it.
He clung to the hem of his dirty grey shirt, awkward and a little bit shy, and nodded back when he saw Vernon nod.
"It's okay, son" he said and then watched Murphy walk away from them, behind the cupboards to the far corner of the room, so he could sit down and hide, closing his eyes and folding his hands in front of him so he could start praying for god to protect him, keep him safe, and let this people be good men.
53 days later
June 27th 2008, 10:02pm, Augusta, Georgia
"We gonna talk about it?" Connor asked, and although he had lowered his voice it was still echoing across the entire neighbourhood. Daryl was still helping him walk while scanning the surrounding houses. For enemies, for a place to stay, just for…something. It was almost completely dark outside by now. It had taken them a long time to outrun the soldiers and get away from the building, because Connor could only move at such a slow speed, because they didn't have a car and because they used back alleys instead of the larger main roads to stay away from both the soldiers and the thugs that were supposed to rule the rest of the city.
He couldn't see much around them, just burned out and stripped down cars, a couple of corpses, both dead and walking. Just like before they didn't really mind the walkers, they even thought of them as useful beings now, because walkers in the area suggested that none of their enemies had made it so far. And although the undead wouldn't attack them and shuffled right past them both men still kept an eye on them, still fearing attacks even now. They didn't really trust their own blood or Connor's immunity, even now. The hunter kept his one hand placed on Connor's gun, which he kept in his belt, ready to shoot any of these dead fucks in case they decided to attack them.
"Talk 'bout what" he asked back in the mean time, as he manoeuvred them around a fence so they could make their way through a backyard of one of the many family homes in this part of Augusta, because now there were too many walkers on the streets. Connor snorted.
"Ye know what 'm fuckin talking about"
Daryl turned his head with a frown on his face, so he could look at his friend. He honestly didn't know what Connor was talking about, because so much had happened to them in such a short amount of time. The escape from Smith's group, Connor's foolish jump out of the window, the fact that his friend's stupid brother was still alive, or the fact that they'd kissed twice by now.
"Do I look like I fuckin know what yah prattlin about?" he asked and Connor let out a frustrated sigh.
He turned his head to look in the other direction, so he could keep an eye on the other backyards and surrounding houses.
"Well, 'm talking about how there's obviously fuckin more going on between us now."
Daryl snorted louder than intended, making Connor look at him once more with an angry frown.
"What" he asked and Daryl shook his head.
He felt embarrassed by the whole thing, that they were really talking about something like -this-. Because it was complicated and fucked up, because once again his whole body and mind didn't know what they were supposed to do, or think, or feel. And although he didn't want to hurt his friend he reacted in the only way he could, the only way he was used to.
"Sorry t'burst yah bubble, but their ain't nothing 'going on' between us" he growled and looked away, just so he could hide the fact that he was unsure about his answer, that he couldn't explain anything to himself in general. "I was just trying t'get yah to start breathin again. You were the one doing that gay shit yesterday night, not me" he grumbled and Connor laughed angrily, fingers suddenly digging deeper into Daryl's upper arm, the one he was clinging to as support.
"Except that I was already fuckin breathing again. We talked in te mean time? Remember that? If that was a mouth-to-mouth then my name's fuckin Alfred" the Irishman countered and Daryl didn't know what to say or do, because he was busier trying not to blush or act weird about it. "Besides don't call it gay shit. I ain't fuckin gay" the older of the two growled and tried to let go of Daryl so he could walk on his own and get some space between them, but the hunter wouldn't let him. He wrapped his arm even tighter around Connor's hip, digging his fingers into the sharp hipbone, wanting to keep him right next to him and bruise.
"And I guess it's kinda weird. Everything. Don't look at me, I ain't ever even been close ta a situation like this before either" the blonde went on and then pinched Daryl's arm, which made the hunter hiss and curse.
"Besides, ye were doing the same gay shit just a couple 'a hours ago" he mumbled and Daryl let out a frustrated sigh.
"Alright!" he snapped and stepped on his friend's foot on purpose.
"I got it! Maybe I just ain't gonna talk about shit" he went on and shifted Connor's weight because his arm was getting heavy.
"No need ta get all fuckin huffy about it!" the Irishman complained and tried to shove his friend.
"I was just trying ta be adult about te fuckin topic, but no, Ms Dixon's gotta get her panties in a bunch about it" he kept going and Daryl responded with an annoyed eyeroll because his friend just wouldn't let go.
"Fuck you."
"Fuck you."
They walked on without saying anything after that, pretty exhausted by now, hardly seeing anything because it was getting darker and darker. But now Daryl was actually curious. He hated how Connor kept digging around and practically asking for an explanation or definition and he didn't want to give him any regarding that topic, but at the same time he wanted to know more. He chewed on the inner side of his cheek and frowned.
"What'd yah mean by 'not close to a situation like that'?"
Connor gave him an annoyed look, now obviously not joking anymore. Now he was just pissed.
"What'd you mean by what'd I mean? The whole.." he moved his finger around in the air and swallowed. He sighed and shook his head.
"Fuckin hell…let's..let's just call it gay shit, then. Gay gay gay faggotty gay shit if ye must. Everything else's just fuckin ridiculous" he growled and looked away.
"Jesus fuckin Christ" he cursed under his breath because it really was ridiculous. Daryl cocked an eyebrow and snorted gently.
"You sure 'bout that? Yah sure look like it. Been screamin it at me the whole time" he said and Connor tried to punch his guts.
"Fuck you" he said but missed, which made Daryl chuckle.
The Irishman hissed when he lost his balance because of that and accidentally shifted his weight on his twisted angle. Daryl managed to catch him and clung to him even tighter, looking around the neighbourhood because he knew that they wouldn't be getting out of Augusta tonight, because they both were exhausted and needed to rest.
"Don't even just make that statement about te whole gay category, actually" Connor muttered after a moment of walking, which made Daryl look at him.
The older of the two friends sighed and rubbed his face tiredly.
"Make that about fuckin relationships'n general."
There was a long pause after that, because the Irishman dwelled on his past and Daryl felt awkward because of that statement.
He chose to keep quiet about it, because he didn't know how to handle a situation like this, because he'd never been in a situation like that.
Connor kept talking on his own.
"Fer obvious reasons. Had the church, my old job, then my new job.." he swallowed yet again and looked away.
"Murph" he said and Daryl grabbed his friend's shirt tighter, clenching his fists, a natural hate reaction to that name.
"He was te main reason why I never really did the whole relationship thing, actually. Just couldn't, I guess. I was too caught up with looking after and fussing over te little shit" he said and suddenly sounded bitter, because right then it really hit him. He'd been too caught up with too many things until now, running away from soldiers, jumping out of windows, the whole thing with Daryl and his stupid ankle, but now all the adrenaline, stress and spontaneity had left his body. He was calm, collected and in possession of all his wits again, which meant that he could properly think about what all the new information on Murphy really meant.
He was alive, out there, somewhere. With no one to watch his ass. And what really hurt was that he didn't know where Murphy was, how to find him, where to find him. Knowing that he was dead had been one thing. It had broken his heart and nearly destroyed him, but at least he had known where Murphy was. What he was doing. He had been rotting away in an apartment in Boston. For more than a year. This had been cruel, but it had been something of certainty. Something final, something he couldn't change. Reality was different now. Everything was uncertain, everything was changing, all the time, he could influence everything, change everything, except that he didn't know how, or where to start.
And then there was the one thing that really kept poking his insides now, that made him hate himself all over again, that made him feel like he needed to throw up. He had shot his brother. He had shot Murphy when he had still been alive. He had been so blinded, so caught up with his own little baby problems like all the crying like a pathetic little nancy and begging and praying that he had been unable to see the obvious signs. He had failed his brother, had cut their connection all by himself. And then he'd just found himself someone new, clung to a new man, gotten better, laughed and smoked and watched movies and got drunk like he deserved to be happy, and now he was even trying to fucking hook up with his brother's lookalike. It made him feel ashamed of himself and it suddenly upset him big time, because he knew that he was just a shadow of his former self, the person he had been prior the apocalypse when he had been a very good brother, and a very devotional man.
Daryl cleared his throat and snapped Connor out of his state, remembered him that he wanted to keep going with his talk, to get back on track.
"All I ever had was a couple of encounters with a buncha ladies down at te pub, and that was once in a blue moon. Have a buncha beers, watch a couple 'a movies or go out on a date, then do the obviously necessary shit like fucking around."
After all the joking around and making fun of Daryl he was suddenly back to this more miserable state of being, because he was tired, exhausted and all the old feelings and thoughts about his brother were coming back at such a force, that it actually surprised him. Never in his life had he thought that something like this could really happen, that there was the slight possibility he could get Murphy back without being completely crazy.
But the whole back from the dead thing was exactly the problem now. He knew that Daryl hated to hear him talk about this, but he just couldn't keep it to himself, what such a change could mean now. Because it was true, everything he'd said, and he was only just realizing that now. His entire life and being had been intertwined with his brother. Revolved around his brother. From growing inside their mother's belly until that last moment he had seen him back in Boston. It had always been about Murphy, with Murphy. Every second of his life, from sleeping in the same room, to eating in the same room, watching movies in the same room, going to the same workplace, doing the same work, going to the same church, the same pub, sharing the same apartment, the same clothes, symmetrical tattoos, smoking the same brand of cigarettes and drinking the same bottle of whiskey.
Never in this life had he ever been just on his own, just himself, thinking for himself or wishing for himself. They had always been an unity. Connor and Murphy. There had never been interest, time or space for relationships, girlfriends, marriage, children. They'd never wasted a second thought on this like normal people, never felt the need for it.
But here he was now, a changed man. A person of his own, with his own needs, his own clothes, his own new relationships and he realized that for the first time ever he was actually ready for this kind of thing, no matter how fucked up it was because it was with his best friend who was a man on top of that. He'd never been interested in that either, had been appalled by it in fact. Then he had met Daryl.
And Murphy was back.
Nothing fit anymore, not his old habbits and life, not his new one.
He didn't know what he wanted, what he needed and what was right, and this just made him feel even more lonely.
He started sulking and kept walking. Maybe it was a good thing that Daryl obviously didn't want shit anyway.
The hunter noticed Connor's mood shift right away, and it didn't just make him angry, it also frustrated him. He knew that he had been the one to try and change the topic, that he was the one who was trying to make it look like he didn't want or notice the change between them. He still didn't want it, that was true, and he did want to change the topic, but that didn't mean that he wanted to hear his friend talk about his past, or his goddamn brother. Because it made him angry and jealous, because it made him want to change his mind about everything.
He didn't like how the whole conversation and situation had suddenly changed from joking around to being way deeper than that, he wanted Connor to stop sulking, wanted him to stop thinking about his goddamn twin brother, and he knew that he just had to get them back on track, to make this about HIM and Connor, not about Murphy and Connor.
"Dude, we ain't fuckin" he said and tried to lighten the mood, and he did achieve a gentle chuckle from Connor.
"Ew. Are ye fuckin disgusting" his friend answered and then gave Daryl a devilish smirk.
"Besides, sorry ta burst your bubble, laddy, but I ain't fuckin virgins anyway" he said and nudged Daryl in the chest, which caused the hunter to hiss in pain because it was the spot with the broken rip.
"Screw you" he grunted and kicked his friend yet again, which made Connor giggle.
But then he had to huff and smirk himself. Both men ended up chuckling, and they both accepted it as welcome and casual ending for their rather serious conversation about a sensitive issue. There was absolutely no solution to the topic, no explanation or further definition of what was going on between them, but they both decided that they wanted to keep it that way for now.
"We good?" Connor asked after a moment and Daryl sighed and looked at him for a while, because it obviously wasn't over yet.
He chewed on his lower lip and then nodded slowly.
"Yeah. We're good. Good friends" he said and looked away, because he didn't want to look Connor right in the eye while saying that. The truth was that he didn't even want it to be like that himself. Too much had changed and his friend mattered too much in a twisted and fucked up way, but everything was just too complicated, and he thought that he was far too damaged for any such thing in general. He didn't want to destroy anything between them. He wanted to be on the safe side, and he didn't want to disappoint his brother because now that he thought about it: it would be kind of disrespectful. Merle had raised him, like that, to openly hate that kind of thing Connor was suggesting.
His brother had died just a couple of weeks ago, and if he really let himself get into the whole new thing it would just feel like he was using this opportunity. Tell Merle 'fuck you, I'm glad you're dead, now I can do the exact opposite of everything you've taught me.' No, he needed to honour his brother. He carried the family name 'Dixon', and the Dixons were tough manly fuckers. Then there was the other reason for this answer: he still believed that he was going to lose his friend anyway.
He knew that they needed to find Murphy now, no matter how much he hated the kid. His friend wouldn't ever be happy otherwise, would never let go and give them peace. And back at the prison Connor had kept talking about wanting to leave Georgia on his own, wanting to go back up North because he didn't want to stay with his group, the people that Daryl considered his family. He still thought it was going to happen, that Connor was going to grab his brother and leave, maybe thank him for the time they had spent together and that's it.
He'd heard him talk about it just minutes before after all.
He was te main reason why I never really did the whole relationship thing, actually. Just couldn't, I guess.
I was too caught up with looking after and fussing over te little shit.
Daryl knew that his friend was going to go back to just that as soon as they had found his brother.
So he needed to let go while he still could. Loosen the bond.
Make sure Connor was safe and sound until then, so they could go separate ways knowing that the other was alive and healthy.
"Friends. Aye. Good friends" Connor repeated, making it clear that he understood what it was supposed to mean, although he didn't really seem to like it.
Daryl shifted their weight once more and then turned his head so he could look at one of the houses.
"Let's crash for the night" he said to change the topic.
He wanted to walk over to the house, but Connor dug his fingers in his upper arm once again and tried to drag him in the other direction with a headshake.
"No. I gotta find my brother" he said and tried to keep walking, but Daryl kept dragging him in the other direction, using the fact that his friend couldn't really walk with his twisted ankle.
"I know, but we ain't gonna find him today anyway. 's dark out here, we can't see shit and we need to rest.
First thing we gonna do tomorrow is get ourselves a car and leave this goddamn city."
He tried to get Connor over to the French window of the house. His friend kept struggling until he managed to free himself.
"No! Who even says that he ever left the city?" he asked and hobbled away from Daryl.
"Te kid might be a bit reckless, but I know 'im. Murph's sharp. He could've set up wrong tracks and made them think that he left te city. There's lotsa supplies here, and he can't really track or hunt. He needs those supplies, maybe he got out of the city center and away from those thugs to set up his own little base camp or shit like tha. He could still be 'ere in this city, and I gotta find him right te fuck now" he said and wanted to keep going, leave this backyard, which made Daryl sigh and grit his teeth. He didn't want Connor to know. It had been his plan to make the two of them 'look around' for a little bit longer, maybe even get back to Woodbury so he could buy some more 'alone' time with Connor, but judging by the fuss his friend was making that plan was absolutely ridiculous and useless.
"He's in Savannah, dumbass" he growled and shook his head.
Connor turned around to look at him with an angry frown.
"What?" he asked and walked over to Daryl.
"How long've you know and when did ye plan ta fuckin tell me this?" he said, looking angry and pissed off.
The hunter turned around to get the door open.
"I was gonna do that, but yah were a whole lot more busy with talking about gay shit and cuddling with teddy bears" he muttered and tried to take a look inside the house, to see if there were any potential threats, walkers or dangers.
"You weren't gonna tell me, were ye?" Connor suddenly asked and Daryl froze for a moment.
"That Murph's still alive. If it weren't fer the surgery then ye would've kept that shit t'yerself, wouldn't ye?" he went on and Daryl snorted.
"Don't be stupid" he muttered and managed to open the door.
He then turned around and looked at Connor, who was staring back at him with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Get your ass in there. The sooner we get some sleep the sooner we can go get a car and drive down to Savannah tomorrow."
Connor looked around the backyard and let out a gentle sigh. He supposed that Daryl was right. He -was- exhausted and freezing because his clothes were still wet from the jump into the river, and it -was- way too dark to go anywhere. They needed a car, they needed to hunker down in a place and come up with a decent plan to make this work, but he still didn't like that. He just wanted to find Murphy, more than anything, and after being without him for more than a year he had a hard time taking another day of separation. He chewed on his upper lip and then headed for the house.
"Aye. That is, if ye don't just tell me shit t'keep me away from 'im" he muttered and entered the house, not giving Daryl a chance to respond to that.