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So here's chapter two, guys. I'm thinking of writing chapter three from Daryl's point of view but I'm not sure yet. If you want to send me in a review and let me know what you think of the story so far and your opinion on the whole Daryl's point of view idea, then that would be great! :) Also, thanks to all the people that have read the story so far, and those who have reviewed and added it to their favorites. It means a lot! I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as I can. :3
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Beth opened her eyes to the warmth of sunlight, surprised to find that her cheeks were damp. She wiped the back of her hand across her face to dry the tears that had fallen in her sleep, before sitting up; only to find that Daryl was no longer in the chair. A quick glance around the cabin showed her that the lantern was gone from the bedside table, and the door to the washroom was closed; his crossbow was still lying on the floor, so she assumed that he had just gone into the bathroom. A blush rose in her cheeks as she realized that he must have seen her sleeping with his vest and she quickly pushed herself up and out of bed, refusing to be caught awake and still laying with the clothing item.
She spent a few minutes pacing around the room, uncertain of what to do; in one of her circuits, she paused by the door, stooping to peek out through the broken pane. There weren't any Walkers around, thankfully, but there was something a few feet off the path; she squinted, and realized that not too far into the woods, there was a bush laden with ripe blackberries! Unable to contain her excitement, she eagerly pulled the door open, stepping outside; the air was fresher outside than it was in the house, and although it had been cool overnight, it was beginning to warm up again as the sun rose higher in the sky.
Leaves rustled beneath Beth's worn cowgirl boots as she quickly made her way down a gently sloping hill; a few tree branches scraped against her exposed arms as she ducked into the woods. She knew she would still be visible from the doorway of the house, and therefore hoped that Daryl wouldn't be too angry at her for leaving; but she just couldn't resist. She could remember a time when she was a child, out in the fields with her daddy and Maggie. They'd gone to pick blackberries with their little plastic pails in hand and found far more than they could carry. She hadn't had berries since all this started to happen.
Beth reached the bush and began to pick the largest, juiciest-looking ones she could find, and soon had a handful of them cupped against her chest. She was sure Daryl would be thankful, too; a dinner of cold soup wasn't exactly the greatest, and fresh berries were always so sweet. Just as she turned, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye; before she could even so much as turn back, a hand had shot out of the bush to clench tightly around her ankle. Beth shrieked as she was yanked down onto the ground, landing hard on her stomach on the ground; narrowly avoiding smashing her face off a large rock in the process. The berries squished against the palm of her hand, staining her skin purple, as she flung her hands out in an attempt to stop her fall.
Rolling onto her back, Beth watched as a Walker began to crawl out of the bush. It was a man, and in life he must have been horribly skinny; now, he was mostly bones and decaying flesh, his teeth crimson with dried blood. He snarled at her, rotting yellow eyes focused blearily on her face; she screamed again as she struggled backwards, instinctively reaching for the knife she always kept at her hip. It wasn't there; she cursed herself silently for taking the weapon and leaving it on the nightstand. How could she be so stupid?
There was a twang, and an arrow shot over Beth; implanting itself directly between the Walker's eyes. Blood splattered as the creature went limp, its grasp on Beth loosening. Breathing hard, she scrambled back away from it until her back hit a tree, and she turned her head to find Daryl standing on the doorstep, crossbow in his hands. He stared at her for a long moment, and she could see, even at this distance, his eyes as they assessed her, searching for any wounds. After a few moments, he came down the steps and stopped at her side.
"What the hell are you doin' out here?" he growled, reaching down and grabbing ahold of her upper arm. He jerked her to her feet, studying her more closely this time as she tried to catch her breath. She then lowered her gaze and began wiping the berry juice off of her hand.
"I was gonna surprise you. I found some berries." she mumbled, looking back up at him; his entire expression was disbelieving, and eventually he snorted as though something was funny. Shaking his head at her, he stomped over to the Walker and ripped the arrow out of its head, a little more violently than was necessary.
"Next time, don't be so damn stupid." he snapped, before stalking back into the house. Beth stood there for a few moments, trembling, before she followed him back into the hut; leaving the berry bush untouched this time.
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A few hours later found Beth and Daryl getting ready to leave the house. After a little bit of searching, Beth had discovered a ragged grey backpack stuffed under the bed and had placed the lantern and the flashlight in it. She'd also located a small box of matches, which unfortunately only contained three matches; but had decided it was useful and had tossed that in, too. There wasn't much else in the house, aside from a half-empty bottle of Advil, which they decided to take as well. Daryl slung his crossbow over his back, waiting by the door as she attached her sheathed knife to her belt once more, resigning to never take it off again. As an afterthought, Beth also folded up the two blankets and stuffed them in the bag.
"We might want them later." she said defensively as Daryl scowled at her.
They walked in silence for what felt like ages; eventually making their way back onto a road, although Beth had no idea where they were anymore. There were still signs indicating which way to go if you were headed to the prison; and even signs warning that hitchhikers could be escaping inmates. The thought of this made her laugh; in a way, they were now escaped inmates, weren't they? Daryl gave her an odd look as the giggle bubbled up out of her, and she quickly quieted the noise; she didn't want him to think she was going crazy or something.
Soon they came across a small town; it wasn't exactly what one would call a safe neighborhood, and its state had only deteriorated when the infection broke out. Many of the houses were abandoned; people hadn't even tried to remain there when Hell broke lose. Clearly, many of them had also been ransacked; some of the doors were off their hinges, and windows were busted in. Trash blew through the street, and even as she watched, an empty food wrapper tumbled out of a house and skittered across the road, before getting caught on a streetlamp post.
"We should have a look 'round here. Might be somewhere we could stay." Daryl suggested, frowning at the buildings they passed. Still, no sign of any Walkers; Beth had assumed that the one in the bush had been the previous owner of the house where they had spent their night.
They went a little ways farther before she paused to stare at the trailor park that they had come across. Many of the yards were so dead that the grass hadn't grown long; it had just dried up and turned yellow. A few of the doors were hanging open, but many of the places looked untouched. Daryl grumbled incoherently as she set off up the driveway without telling him first, quickly switching his direction in order to keep up with her; she glanced at the nearest gravel driveway, her brow furrowing as she thought about if she should go to that house. It was painted an almost sickly yellow, with the door hanging open and one window smashed. Daryl decided for her, however; shoving past her as he made his way to the structure.
The front door led them into a small kitchen; the linoleum floor was peeling up in the corners, and, like the hut, the fridge door was hanging open to reveal a bare interior. A few of the cupboards were open, but many looked as though they hadn't been touched. To the right, there was a rounded archway-type opening into the living room; this had simple furniture, a grey couch against one wall and a matching armchair in the corner. There was a flat-screen television on a wooden stand facing towards the couch and even a laptop, long since dead, still open on the coffee table. The walls were covered in a hideous floral wallpaper.
Beth walked quietly towards the fridge to peer around it and down a narrow hallway; without any windows, it was somewhat darker than the rest of the trailer. There were three doors; two on the left-hand wall and one at the end of the hall as well.
"I'm gonna have a look around." Beth told Daryl; he grunted his acknowledgement as he rummaged through the cupboards.
The backpack bumped against her waist as she made her way quietly down the hall, one hand resting safely on the hilt of her knife. The attack earlier had given her enough of a scare to make her a bit more cautious; even so, she didn't think the incident had warranted Daryl's anger. There must be something the man wasn't telling her. He always seemed a bit sullen, but now...there was definitely something different.
She checked the first door as she passed it; it was already open and revealed a somewhat small washroom, larger than the one at the hut. It was surprisingly clean; the medicine cabinet door was hanging open, but most of the stuff had been left alone. The only thing that looked somewhat out-of-place was the show curtain; the metal rod had been torn out of the wall, to lie in the tub, with the brown and white striped curtain lying in a heap and draped over the edge of the bath. Beth made her way into the bathroom, stepping onto the curtain as she did; leaving muddy boot tracks in her wake.
"Beth? What're ya doin'?" Daryl said as she shrugged off her knapsack; his voice made her jump, as she hadn't heard him approach. Turning, she saw him standing in the doorway, his crossbow slung across his back and his powerful arms crossed over his chest. He was watching her, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a frown and his eyes glittering darkly.
"I figured we could take some of the medicine here." she explained, turning back to the medicine cabinet and stretching up to rummage through the bottles and boxes stuffed onto the shelves.
"You shouldn't be wanderin' off on your own. Didn't ya learn nothin' back at that cabin?" he said, clearly disapproving. She sighed; she had suspected she wouldn't live that one down anytime soon. But she had told him she was going to look around, so it wasn't like she'd just vanished like last time.
"I can take care of myself, Daryl." she muttered, figuring he wouldn't hear. He snorted though, indicating he had picked up on her words, before turning and making his way down the hallway.
"Yeah, you did a damn fine job of that back at that shack." he grumbled, before she heard a door open and close down the hall.
As Beth rummaged through the medicine cabinet, she caught sight of herself in the mirror in front of her, and actually grimaced at her appearance. Clearly she hadn't been able to wash up lately, and it showed; her normally fair skin was covered in a fine layer of dirt, and there were scrapes along her arms from trees lashing back and hitting her. Her jeans were faded and ripped at the left knee from a few of the falls she had taken; her grey socks were dirty, just higher than her worn brown cowgirl boots. She also wore a fitted green tank top that was stained with mud and some bloodstains; over that, she wore a baggy navy blue tank top that hung loosely from her slim frame. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and a braid started in the ponytail as well. She could look on the bright side; at least she wasn't hurt.
Finding a package of bandages and gauze, she eagerly tucked that into the knapsack, as well as various medicine bottles that rattled with promise. As she did so, she heard a soft rustle; something was moving. The window to the bathroom was open, so she leaned up to peer out of it, but the yard was empty and all was still.
"Dar- " she started to call; but before she could finish the name, something under the shower curtain lurched up out of the tub with a fierce snarl. The curtain fell back to reveal a female Walker; dead eyes locked hungrily onto Beth, the decaying features twisting in a growl. Beth barely had enough time to duck off to the side as the Walker lunged for her; with a shriek, she tripped over the curtain lying crumpled and bloody on the floor, tumbling onto her hands and knees next to the toilet, barely avoiding cracking her chin off the porcelain edge.
The Walker tripped as well and dropped to the floor, hands stretched out towards Beth as though she couldn't quite see her; Beth scrambled around until her back hit the wall, lifting one leg and planting the heel of her boot against the woman's chest. With a shove, she knocked the Walker flat onto her back; pushing herself up from the floor, Beth seized the curtain and dropped down on top of the Walker, pinning her down underneath the curtain. The woman began to struggle furiously, her mouth working underneath the fabric; yanking her knife out of its sheath, Beth plunged the blade down through the Walker's forehead.
"Good job." Daryl remarked from the doorway; Beth stood up, whirling around to focus her gaze on him, breathing hard.
"Thanks for the help!" she snapped sarcastically, reaching down and forcefully yanking her knife out of the Walker. Daryl smirked and shrugged slightly, turning to head back into the hall.
"You said you could take care of yourself. Come on, let's get outta here." he said; and, with a sigh, Beth snatched up the backpack and trotted after him as they left the trailer park.
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Several hours later found Beth trailing wearily along behind Daryl; she had struck her knee on a large metal ring attached to the shower curtain when she had fallen, and now her kneecap was swollen and bruised, giving her a slight limp. Determined not to let him know she was injured, determined not to be seen as a child, she had continued on walking as normally as she could manage, her teeth gritted firmly together; resulting in a lengthy silence between them both. Again, the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, and still they were wandering aimlessly through the streets of the ghost town. None of the houses looked promising, with their broken windows and the doors hanging off the hinges.
"What about that one? It doesn't look too bad." Beth said, lifting a hand to indicate a small house.
The one-floor building sat a bit back from the road and was encircled by a low stone wall. An iron gate opened onto the pathway that would lead to the doorstep; this path split at the bottom of said stairs, the other branch heading to the gravel driveway, where another gate blocked entry into the yard. Beth really couldn't see much point in this set-up; the brick wall wouldn't do much to hold any people out, but it would do well against Walkers. The house was small, but bigger than the shack from last night; its white paint was chipped and dirty.
"Yeah, let's check it out." Daryl agreed, stepping up to the gate; she watched him lean over the gate to unlock the latch, before shoving it open. The hinges squealed in protest and she flinched at the high-pitched sound, glancing anxiously around the street, but nothing stirred. She made sure to lock the gate again when they passed through it, following Daryl up to the porch.
The door opened into a narrow hallway, which went straight ahead before meeting a dead end; and at this end there was another door that opened onto an enclosed porch, which would then take one out into the backyard. The floor was carpet, which muffled their steps well; but Beth paused in the doorway to take in the small surroundings.
Unlike the shack, this was not a one-room establishment; to the right, there was an open archway that led into a living room. This room was small, and split down the center by a waist-high counter; behind this counter was a small kitchen. To the left, there were only two doors, both lying ajar; the one nearest the front door led into a small washroom, and the one further down the hall was the opening into the only bedroom.
"I'll go check if there's food, if you want?" Beth suggested, lifting her gaze to the taller man before her; he grunted slightly and wandered off towards the bedroom.
Stepping through the archway, Beth glanced around at the bare furnishings. Whoever had lived in this house had been pretty poor, but still better off than some of the people that had once lived in this town. In the middle of the room, there was a faded beige couch with three cushions, and a grey wool blanket draped over the back; a small wooden coffee table, stained with water rings, rested just in front of it, a magazine still lying open on the surface. Against the wall on a television stand was a small tv, the kind with antennas; something she hadn't seen in quite some time. There was also a desk in the far corner, though it lacked a computer; just a goose-neck lamp, and several books and papers scattered everywhere, spilling over the edge and onto the floor beneath it. Heavy curtains were drawn across the only window in the room, blocking out any hint of sunlight.
She made her way quietly to the counter, peeking over the edge before venturing around it. Tucked beneath the counter, there were three stools; clearly serving as some sort of dinner table. There wasn't much counter space, and the stove was gas operated, which made her hopeful; that might still work without the power, right? She understood that they may need to light it with a match, but they had those three from the hut in the woods. The fridge proved to be pretty bare when she opened the door, finding only a few containers of spoiled yogurt and some moldy cheese.
After some searching of the various cupboards, Beth found a box of crackers; a half-empty box of Frosted Flakes cereal; a full box of chocolate-dipped granola bars; and even a plastic bag of trail mix. There were also several cans of soup, ranging from chicken noodle, to beef, and even tomato. She also located a half-full box of cigarettes, which she figured would please Daryl; she immediately picked them up and clasped them behind her back in both hands, before turning and hurrying back down the hall.
She found Daryl in the bedroom, lounging back on the bed, his expression relaxed. The room was fairly small, with the double bed taking up most of the space; though there was a small bedside table with a lamp next to it. The only window in the room was directly above the bed, also with heavy drapes pulled over it; and the wall at the foot of the bed was occupied by a closet. The doors had been removed, a small white dresser tucked perfectly inside. Hearing her footsteps, he opened one eye to peer up at her.
"Find anythin' good?" he asked with interest, and she couldn't help but smile.
"Found somethin' you might like." she returned, before taking the box of cigarettes out from behind her back and tossing them. He sat up in enough time to catch it, and squinted at it for a moment like he wasn't sure what he was seeing was right. Finally, he grinned; and Beth felt her heart skip slightly in her chest at the way his eyes lit up.
"Well, thank you, darlin'." he said, rising from the bed and offering her a wink. She felt her cheeks flush and quickly turned back towards the doorway.
"Yeah, well, are you hungry? There's lots to eat. I think I can- " she started, but froze; his hand had seized her, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist. Turning her head to the side slightly, she lowered her gaze to where he had grabbed her, before her eyes flickered up to meet his gaze.
"Is there...anythin' you wanna talk about?" he inquired; his voice had gotten all low and serious, and she tensed up at the quiet growl it gave to his words. Some people would have found it sinister; but it sent a shiver down her spine for another reason.
"No. Why?" she replied crisply, and he slowly let go of her wrist.
"Just wonderin', I guess. Now, you said somethin' about food?" he said, reverting to his usual self as though nothing at all had happened. Shaking her head slightly at him, she let another laugh escape her as she turned back to lead him to the kitchen.
This man is going to give me whiplash. she thought to herself.
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Night had fallen once again, and left Daryl and Beth sitting in the artificial light of the lantern they had brought from the shack. Again, they were arguing over the bed situation: he wanted her to take the bed, and he would take the couch; and although this wasn't a bad idea, Beth wasn't about to admit her real reason for not wanting to agree to it. She didn't want to be alone.
"Why don't we just, like, share the bed or somethin'?" she finally blurted, and Daryl fell silent. She could see on his expression that this was not what he had expected to hear; his brow furrowed and his mouth tugged into a frown as he tried to give the idea some thought.
"Well, what do ya mean?" he said, tilting his head to the side; though he tried to act casual, she could see the way he fiddled with the crossbow.
"We could just share the bed. I don't trust the window bein' right over it like that. We can put pillows between us or somethin' if it makes you uncomfortable. I mean, I don't care, but if you do then that's fine." she said hastily, and though the urge to correct herself again was present, she held her tongue and waited for his response. He almost looked as though he was about to reject the idea; but then understanding flickered in his eyes and she quickly averted her gaze. He knew she didn't want to be alone, she could see it on his face, and she didn't want to be seen as a kid.
"Sure. I don't care." he said with a nonchalant shrug, before heading off to the bedroom.
Beth lingered a few more minutes before she trailed along after him, to find that he was shifting furniture in the room. He had taken the dresser out of the closet and placed the bed so that the headboard rested against the inner wall of the closet, with the dresser beneath the window. When she walked in, he was just finishing shoving the dresser up against the wall, and she found that her eyes immediately wandered to the hard muscle of his arms pushing against the sturdy wood.
"What are you doin'?" she asked in confusion. He didn't reply right away, but instead yanked one of the drawers out of the dresser and dumped the clothing - men's clothes, by the look of it - out onto the floor. He then clambered on top of the dresser and pushed aside the curtains, to prop the drawer up against the window. When he climbed back down, he grabbed ahold of the dresser and began hauling it in her direction; she quickly stepped out of the way and he closed the door, shoving the heavy piece of furniture up beneath the doorknob to hold the door shut.
"You said you were nervous of the window over the bed, so I moved the bed. I figured I'd put that drawer up there in case somethin' opens the window; if it gets opened, then we'll hear the drawer fall. And the dresser can block the door." he explained, before shrugging off his crossbow and hanging it off one of the posts of the headboard.
"Oh. Thanks." Beth mumbled, embarrassed. She soon climbed into the bed, finding it to be unbelievably comfortable; Daryl propped one of the pillows in between them, but she didn't mind. Just knowing he was only a few inches away comforted her, and it wasn't long before she had slipped away into unconsciousness.
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A few hours later, Beth jolted awake with a shock; a soft gasp leaving her. Something had touched her. Her eyes strained in the darkness, and she rolled over in search of whatever was draped across her hip, only to receive an even larger surprise.
The pillow was gone, lying on the floor like it had been grabbed and thrown; and Daryl was a mere inch away from her, sleeping soundly. His arm was thrown lightly across her waist, and as she moved, his fingers clenched momentarily on the back of her shirt. She froze, her breath hitching; she didn't want to wake him, for fear that he would be angry that she was so questionably close to him. But she couldn't help but wonder if he had done this while he was awake, or if he had done it when he was sleeping.
Either way, she was going to make the best of the situation. Snuggling a bit closer into his warm embrace, she lifted one hand to rest it lightly against his firm chest; his heartbeat was slow and steady beneath her palm, reassuring her. Her eyes drifted closed once more, and with his soothing presence so near, she submitted herself to sleep once more, without fear of any nightmares to haunt her.