You were all that we needed
To believe in our doubt, the hurt we allowed
We had sworn to believe them
And scattered across our memories found
You were all that we needed
To believe in our doubt
The worse, I'm afraid
The hurt we allowed
We defied the lines and crossed
Into a great unknown to read
All the words we left out
In all, we all are truly afraid
In all, we are of the one thing we can't be
In all, we all are truly afraid
Wishing one day, we could be strong
Three weeks. It had been three weeks and Trish was still riding with that damn group. She missed having a bed or a couch to sleep on at night. The ground was hard and the air was cold. And on this particular day, everyone had woken to see frost on the ground for the first time since walkers had started outnumbering the living.
But now Trish was in her element. Scouting a town for temporary living quarters. A trickier task than it had been to find an abandoned loft when she was on her own, maybe, but now she had a better idea of what the survivors needed and could find something appropriate.
She had slowly been teaching them the fine art of scrounging. As they passed through small communities, no service station, grocery store or boutique went unnoticed. They were starting to abandon their summer-weight clothes and pick up supplies they would need for winter. The previous day's journey into a town with an army surplus store had turned up a gold mine. But still they insisted on sleeping in tents, or in the RV. Nobody dared brave sleeping indoors where they could potentially be swarmed with walkers.
Rick had sent her into town with Daryl, T-Dog and Andrea to search for some sort of temporary living quarters to take the edge off the dropping temperatures while they prepped for the next stage of the journey. In a few more days, they would be passing I-75, their third and final interstate crossing since she had joined them. Daryl was driving them towards the Appalachians, hoping that the national park along the Tennessee-North Carolina border would find them some sort of relief to life on the road.
They had split off into pairs to get a feel for the town, and somehow Trish had gotten stuck with Andrea. There hadn't been any more of the open animosity from the first night, but they had never bothered to make friends. Mostly, Trish just ignored or avoided Blondie and Grumpy whenever she could.
"It's almost too quiet," her companion said softly, obviously just as uncomfortable with the pairing as Trish was. They had made their way to the small downtown area, taking note of the practically-untouched drugstore, bridal shop and tavern. Sure, there were signs that walkers had been here at some point, but there were none around that could be found now. The stench of death had long worn off of the few corpses that littered the streets, and it was almost as if the sleepy little town had just dried up and blown away after it was abandoned.
"Depends on how long everyone's been gone. And it's not picked clean yet, either."
"True. If there's nothing here to draw attention…"
"Shh…"
Andrea had spoken too soon. As they turned a corner, a single walker was sitting on a bench in front of a barber shop, looking their direction. It was emaciated, as if it had gone all this time without … eating. Fortunately, without any sort of sustenance, it moved slowly and Trish began to unsheathe the bowie knife Daryl had insisted she start wearing when they found it at the surplus store. Andrea reached for her gun, but Trish shook her head.
"Just gonna attract more."
It was disgustingly easy to kill. As it shambled along towards them, she was able to rush it, knock it to the ground and run her knife through its eye socket before the poor creature could even register that it needed to grab her. A handkerchief was sprouting from a coat pocket, which Trish promptly used to clean off the blade before stuffing the blood-soaked cloth back into the dead thing's jacket.
An hour and two more kills later, the women met up with Daryl and T-Dog where they had parked the vehicles, discovering that the men had found a small gated community they deemed suitable to live in for a couple of days. It had apparently been some sort of semi-assisted living facility, with a small rec hall, kitchen and nurse's station nestled in the center of four duplex housing units. It would be perfect to give everyone a bit of privacy finally. There was just one thing…
"Is it clear?" she asked.
"Is now," answered T-Dog. "There were only two, and they were outside, so all the beds are clean."
"Bed. Couch. Don't give a fuck. As long as it's not the ground."
"City Girl," she heard Daryl mutter under his breath. The corner of his mouth was turned up and there was a spark in his eye when Trish looked over at him. It wasn't the first time he'd called her that, but he had never used it as an insult.
"Hillbilly," she teased back. It was their game. Other than sharing a tent, they saw little of each other. She made town runs while he went hunting, they took separate watch shifts, and even when traveling they were always at opposite ends of the caravan. And still, somehow, she was closer to Daryl than any of the others. There was an understanding between them that went back to her first day in camp. I can live without these people.
"Gotta get my bike," he said casually, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and carrying on as if their little exchange hadn't happened. That was part of the game, too.
"Why don't y'all go back to get the others," T-Dog suggested. "Andrea and I can finish up and meet you at the houses."
"I don't ride bitch," Daryl announced, glancing at Trish's motorcycle.
"I could take you back in the car and Trish can stay," said Andrea. He looked as if he was seriously contemplating it, warring between the lesser of two evils. Finally, Daryl scrunched his face in frustration and stalked towards the Honda.
"Fine. I'll ride bitch."
Daryl couldn't sleep.
It had been easy enough to keep himself busy with getting settled into the duplexes, setting up a watch schedule, dinner with the group and putting together an action plan for while they were in town. But once everyone had settled in for the night and everything was quiet, his mind began to race. No matter how hard he tried, Daryl just couldn't get that five minute ride on the back of Trish's bike out of his head.
The way his hands had gripped her hips. The way he had molded himself to her back with his face buried in her neck to shield himself from the wind. He felt every shift in her muscles, every move she made to control the motorcycle. Trish smelled like dirt, sweat, smoke and something else that just embodied the essence of all that is female. And it was driving him mad with wanting her.
The bed was too empty, so he had tried moving to the couch. When that didn't work, Daryl resigned himself to getting dressed and slipping outside. He saw Maggie on the roof of the recreation building, sitting in the spot they had designated for watch. Why the hell not, he said to himself, climbing the ladder that had been set against the outside wall. Her only acknowledgement was to make room for him on the single flat spot available, which Daryl utilized to sit and scan the horizon in the opposite direction. They sat in silence for a while, passing the binoculars back and forth. Ten minutes, an hour. Daryl stopped keeping track of time ages ago.
"Looks like you're not the only one who can't sleep." He turned at Maggie's quiet announcement and gazed out across the yard. A brief flicker of flame and a puff of smoke. Trish hadn't picked up a cigarette in days. Daryl had begun to wonder if she'd kicked the habit, but here was proof to the contrary. Nothing wrong with the occasional smoke, but it wasn't the best vice to have in the world they now lived in. Maggie's thoughts must have mirrored his own, for he heard her comment, "She told me they're easier to find than Xanax."
"What's that?" he had to ask. It sounded like the name of a drug, but wasn't quite sure what it was used for.
"Anti-anxiety pills."
"For what? Panic attacks?"
"Good guess."
Damn woman. Making him give a shit. How did she manage to do that? There was no subtle way to watch her this time, so the stolen glances over his shoulder were surely noticed. At the very least, Maggie saw what he was doing and grinned after he turned his head away for the fourth time.
"You've slept next to her for the past three weeks, but you can't even manage to talk to her when you have the tiniest bit of privacy. That's fucked up."
"That's 'tween me and Trish." Daryl prickled, but only because Maggie was dead on in her accusation. It was fucked up. But for him, it wasn't as easy as walking up to her and hauling her off to bed. Not for lack of wanting to do exactly that, but because he knew that if he were to do it, he'd be completely lost in her. Trish was that elusive creature he had always dreamed about in the part of his mind that allowed for such fantasies. He just couldn't allow himself to have it. The cost of having that kind of bond with someone was too high a price to pay in a world where walkers could take it away from him.
**lyric credit** "The Black Rainbow" by Coheed and Cambria
A huge "Thank You!" to all of my readers, but shoutouts go to heartmitosis, LadyLecter47 & XkagedragonX for the reviews! I'm glad you've all been enjoying it as much as I've liked writing it.