Because several people asked for a more hopeful epilogue, here it is. I hope you like it.
I still don't own this stuff, but I sure would have fun with it if I did.
Daryl stood at his post on the wall, eyes scanning the broad open landscape in all directions. He'd taken third shift this week, meaning his time on the wall would end shortly after dawn. The chill in the air was easing as the sun broke over the horizon, beaming warm light over the rolling plains of eastern Wyoming. He still missed the forests of his home state, but there was something to be said for the empty beauty of the great plains.
Two years ago, he and Carol had loaded up her car and his bike and started moving west. They didn't really have a plan as they traveled, other than putting distance between themselves and the Governor. There was no reason to think he would look for them, but they didn't want to risk staying anywhere nearby. Plus the area held too many painful memories. They needed a fresh start.
Along the way they'd had a few close calls with walkers, with injury, and with some unsavory types, but they'd also found some good people along the way. Some stayed with them, some moved on. Some of them died. But they'd slowly made their way north and west, surviving as best they could.
Daryl had never been further west than LaFayette, Georgia, before the end of the world. He found it funny that it had taken an apocalypse for him to get out and see the country.
The Mississippi River had nearly forced a stop to their westward travels. They'd had to move north as far as Tennessee before they were able to find a passable bridge, and even then it had taken them days to clear a path through. There wasn't really a reason they needed to cross, but the urge to keep moving was strong. The group continued on through Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, and eventually into Wyoming. More people joined them, more people left. And more people died. But they continued on.
As the sun crept higher, Daryl turned to look over the place they now called home. Wyoming was very sparsely populated before the outbreak, which meant fewer walkers to deal with overall. They'd met up with some folks while scavenging there – the good sort of folks – who'd had a small settlement going nearby, east of the town of Wright. Eventually they'd invited the travelers to stay permanently, and about two thirds of them chose to join the little town, including Carol and Daryl.
Before the turn, their home had been a huge walled compound that housed a religious cult. It'd been more of a commune than anything, and the place had already been set up to be largely self-sufficient back then. Solar panels and wind turbines provided for the few electrical needs and water came from a series of wells. Much of the land both inside and outside the fences had been farmed, and many of the crops had survived after the original inhabitants had opted out as a group. The open plains meant they had plenty of warning if anyone or anything approached. These days, the hardest things to provide were medical supplies and clothing, since any place near enough to make a run had been picked clean long ago. Ammunition wasn't even on the list anymore. It simply couldn't be found. What little they had was more precious than gold. People carried knives or other weapons like Daryl's worn crossbow while guns were tucked away in reserve.
A scuffling sound let him know that someone was coming to relieve him from watch. Tony wasn't yet twenty years old, but he had a gravity about him that let you forget he was so young. Daryl gave him a nod and a clap on the shoulder as they traded places on the wall.
He climbed down and stretched before heading to the dorm. Most of the folks who lived here were still living in the original building that housed the cult, which meant very little privacy. As they were able, the settlers had begun building small sod houses, the first of which went to families with children. Eventually they would have enough for everyone, but for the time being, he and Carol stayed in the dorm.
Carol was up and gone by the time he got there – not surprising since he had third shift, but disappointing anyway. He flopped down on their mattress and fell almost immediately to sleep.
A few hours later, he rose from his nap to go find his wife. Her morning hours were usually spent in the schoolroom with the town's children. Everyone contributed to educating the children, whether it was academic or practical. Some taught the kids to read, others taught them to tan leather or field dress an antelope. Adults often sat in on the more practical classes as well.
When he found her, she was in the midst of storytime. It wasn't storytime like from the prison, but neither was it reading from books, though they did that sometimes, too. This was a different tradition they'd started as a group long ago. Mississippi was the earliest he could remember it happening in a more structured fashion. The group would sit around the fire and share stories about lost loved ones – recounting events that they felt most characterized the people they missed. The stories helped them all remember and honor fallen companions, but it let the younger folks feel connected to family they'd been too young to remember or perhaps never known.
The children were clamoring for their favorite tales.
"Tell the one about Mr. Rick saving Mr. Hershel by chopping off his leg!"
"Gross! No, I want the one where baby Judith got borned!"
"Miss Carol? Will you tell us how Mr. T-Dog saved you from the walkers?"
"Please, Miss Carol! I want to hear about Mr. Glenn and the well!"
Carol held up a hand to quiet the shouting. Her eye caught Daryl's as he stood leaning in the doorway watching. "Today, I think we'll talk about someone very special and very, very smart. If it weren't for her, Mr. Daryl and I might never have found each other again after we were separated. Her name was Miss Michonne."
Daryl smiled as the children cheered – they always liked Michonne stories. He rested his head against the door frame and closed his eyes, letting Carol's voice and his warm memories of their lost family wash over him. Storytime was his favorite time of day.