I woke up alone in the truck the next morning to the pleasant sounds of cursing. Blinking a few times, I sat up and stretched, feeling my back crack in all the right places.
"… This stupid shit…" a loud slam, almost like something against the side of the truck. I slid my body out of the window, sitting down on the windowpane. Daryl stood down at the rear of the vehicle, rubbing the side of his head. There was a hose and gas can attached to the gas tank of his truck, but I had the sneaking suspicion it wasn't refueling.
"What's going on?" Daryl turned to look at me before returning his glare to the hose.
"More fine group politics." He mumbled, not at all thrilled with the idea of siphoning his truck's gas.
"We're not taking the truck?" I climbed out of the window, landing gently on the ground below. I reached back inside for my bow and bag and slung them both over my shoulder.
"No, we ain't." Daryl swore under his breath again, taking out his hose and replacing the gas cap quickly. He turned to me, screwing on the lid for the gas can and placing it on the ground. "Truck's a gas hog. Ain't no room for her." He was being sarcastic. I was puzzled and I knit my eyebrows together to show my confusion.
"Then what are we riding in?" Daryl turned to his truck and let down the tailgate, climbing in. Picking up a large wooden slat, he gracefully placed it on the back of the truck, almost like a ramp. I took a sharp breath of disbelief. "Nooo…" I shook my head furiously. Daryl looked over the bike like it was a prize.
"Merle's Bonneville 650. She's a beauty."
Glancing back at the others, I watched as they went about their business, grabbing supplies from the other cars that were being left behind, making sure nothing was forgotten. "They can't be serious?!"
Daryl's expression bordered on amusement and annoyance, as he straddled the front wheel of the bike. Patting the sides down he looked at me.
"Well they are. Now help me get this baby down." I gave him another look of disbelief.
"How? How do you expect me to help you get that thing down?"
"What? Miss Equal Rights can't help someone move a motorcycle?" he taunted, starting to roll the bike forward.
"Oh shut the fu-"
"You better put your hands out to grab it because I'm not stoppin'." Him rolling the bike was part of his teasing and I watched in horror as the back tire got closer and closer to the ramp. Daryl peered up over the bike to the ramp, making sure they lined up before giving it another push onto the ramp.
"Wait! Wait! Wait!" I held my hands up, placing them on the back fender of the bike. "Asshole." I murmured as he and I slowly rolled the bike down the ramp and on to sturdy ground. Brushing my hands off on my jeans, Daryl hopped on the motorcycle, revving the engine. It was loud, as I assumed it would be.
He waited expectantly, nodding his head to the backseat. I crossed my arms.
"No way! There are zombies out there!" I pointed to nothing in particular. A lot of different scenarios came to mind: There were zombies out there that could easily pull me off the bike, or even bite me while riding the bike. I bit my lip and tapped my feet in the dust. Daryl stared at me silently for a moment, rubbing his hand across his mouth.
"Nothin'll get you." He laughed. Daryl was amused by my concerns, but when he realized I didn't think they were the least bit funny, he serioused up. He gave me a reassuring smile and held his hand out to me. "Nothin'll get you." He repeated. The definitive nature in his voice quelled my uneasiness slightly, but I still felt hesitant. Daryl nodded his head towards the seat again, a coy smile on his face, and this time I found I couldn't resist.
Slowly I hoped on, adjusting myself on the seat. In doing so I accidently smacked the back of Daryl's head with my elbow. I felt my cheeks flush as he brought his hand up to the back of his head.
"Ow." He said, rubbing away the pain. He glanced back at me and I put my hands over my face.
"I'm so sorry!" I couldn't help but start laughing. Daryl revved the engine and jerked the bike forward. I yelped, wrapping my arms around his midsection, bear hugging for dear life. I couldn't hear the chuckle over the loud engine, but I felt it ripple through his body.
"Alright everybody, lets head out!" Dale called from the door of the RV. Daryl glanced at me over his shoulder.
"You ready?"
"Ready for what?" I raised my eyebrows at him.
"The ride of your life."
"Wow. Really? I can't believe-" My retort was left unfinished as Daryl floored the accelerator, taking point on the caravan. Again I found myself clinging to the man, my eyes shut so tight they began to tear up. Perhaps it was the many late hours spent in the hospital, tending to badly injured bikers, but there was something about motorcycles that left me uneasy.
I felt Daryl shift under my vice grip and his hand found its way to mine. He held it for a second, before returning his grip to the handlebars, but that single second of contact was enough to ease my mind. I felt myself slowly loosening up and enjoying the ride.
The highway had been clear most of the day and I was finally able to enjoy it. I was honestly disappointed I had never ridden a bike before. I was even regretting putting my helmet on, I longed to feel the breeze flowing through my hair.
After a while I softly placed my head on Daryl's back, letting the hum of the bike and the slow rhythm of his breathing lull me into a false sense of security, one that was quickly taken from me when I felt our bike coming to a halt. My sense were heightened and I sat up straighter, glancing over Daryl's shoulder.
"Shit." Daryl cursed under his breath, spitting off to the side of the road. The man was tense and now I knew why. The road was blocked from yellow to yellow with a multitude of cars. "There's a small path." Daryl commented dryly, gesturing to the road. I followed his gaze frowning. "It's big enough for us to get through."
"Big enough for a truck maybe, but not that RV." I said quietly, glancing over my shoulder again. Dale motioned with his hand for us to come back to them and Daryl obliged, turning the bike around. Slowly he pulled it up to the RV.
"See a way through?" Dale asked. Daryl and I exchanged an unsure glance before he shrugged, nodding his head back in the direction of the blockade.
Slowly we made our way through, winding in between the mass of cars. The further in we got the more rank the smell became and I gagged, burying my nose into Daryl's back, breathing in his musky smell. Cautiously I watched the cars pass. To my horror many of them still contained passengers. Unmoving, stinking, passengers.
A Loud bang brought me from reality and I squealed, jumping in surprise. My reaction startled Daryl and he stopped turning in his seat on high alert.
"What the fuck?" He asked. I turned as well, looking on in dismay at the RV. It was smoking and I cursed internally at the infernal machine. Slowly I hopped off the back and Daryl followed my lead. I watched through the windshield as Dale shook his head, face palming and smacking the steering wheel. Quickly the old man got up, making his way to the door and flinging it open.
"I said it, didn't I say it?" He muttered as Shane and Glenn followed him out on to the road. The three stared at the smoking engine, looking up briefly at me as I approached. "A thousand times, dead in the water."
"Problem Dale?" Shane asked, looking out on to the road. His eyes stopped on me, his gaze cold and hard, and I shivered, bringing my hand up to my neck and scratching at it awkwardly. Daryl stepped up beside me, running his thumb along his lip, a nervous tell.
The old man begin to complain again, but something had caught Daryl's eye, and quickly he strode to an SUV that was a few feet from us. I watched him curiously as he began to rummage through the contents of its trunk. The others paid him no heed, but I joined him at the car. He pulled out a stack of napkins, brandishing them proudly.
"Ain't gonna find no radiator hose here." Shane said smugly, slapping his rifle into the palm of his hand. I rolled my eyes, taking the napkins from Daryl.
"There's a whole bunch of stuff we can find." I said matter of factly, tossing the napkins between my hands. Daryl fished out a bag from inside of the car and held it open for me to place the napkins in.
"I can siphon more fuel form some of these cars for a start." T-Dog spoke up, crossing behind us and walking a bit down the road.
"Maybe some water?"
"Or food?" the others pitched in. I was glad everyone was suddenly on board with the silver lining.
"This is a graveyard." Lori spoke up quietly. Everyone took a step back, even Daryl paused his rummaging to look back at her. The tone in Lori's voice gave me chills and I swallowed, clearing my throat. She was right, this was a graveyard, a thought that immediately unsettled me. "I don't know how I feel about this."
The groups reflection was short lived, and Daryl was the first to move. He continued to look through the contents of the abandoned car, glancing at me sidelong, watching me curiously. I shoved my gut feeling aside, knowing that this was something that had to be done in the new, cruel world.
Rick had assigned everyone jobs. I was on essentials duty, everyone's clothes were dirty and old and most of our stuff didn't make it from the CDC. We needed clothing, shoes, anything such as. Quickly I scoured the cars, giving Daryl a hesitant look as I began to walk away from him.
"Stay close." He grunted, not looked up from what he was doing. I stopped to look at him, fidgeting with the bag in my hands. He glanced at me form the corner of his eyes. "If you can't see me, you're too far."
I rolled my eyes, walking to the next car. Though I appreciated his protective nature, I felt like he was my father at that moment. Quickly I pulled open the car door, taking the bags and stuff that were in the seats and tossing them to the ground. I opened them, riffling through their contents. Women's clothes, men's clothes and a small bag of food that was mostly perishable and had already gone rotten. I zipped the bags up and stood, flinging them on my shoulder, but left the food.
I gagged as I reached the next car, taking a few steps back and placing two stabilizing hands on my knees. I dry heaved, waiting for the smell to dissipate before turning around, nestling my face in the inside of my elbow.
In the car sat a woman, or what used to be a woman. He chest cavity sat open, partially eaten, she'd had her guts ripped out and what the monsters didn't eat they left strewn about the interior of the sedan. I waved my hands in front of my face, chasing away a few of the flies, and decided the open trunk would be the best option.
As I was walking to the back I paused, something had caught my eye. In the back seat sat an empty car seat. My stomach dropped at the sight of it and I choked back tears. It was covered in blood, but the spatter was different than that of the woman in the front seat. This was someone else's blood, the blood of a child. I dropped my head, standing silently for a moment, placing a hand on the side of the car to calm myself.
That's so fucked up. I couldn't loot this car, I couldn't bring myself to stand there any longer and I headed a few cars down the highway. Subconsciously I looked up, looking for Daryl. He was a few cars back, now holding three bags of supplies. At the RV Glenn and Shane stood diligently working on the engine. I grimaced, knowing how tricky of a fix a radiator hose could be.
I had reached another car, this one thankfully empty and crossed to the passengers side, flinging open the door and popping the trunk lever. I heard a satisfying click and I stood, walking to the back of the car. Inside was a milk crate full of tools, ratchets, wrenches, hammers, some nails, and other essentials. I fist pumped, grabbing the crate out and riffling through the trash bags. In the bags were blankets, sleeping bags, and underneath them were gallon jugs of water. I felt like I'd hit the mother load. I looked up over the car, finding T-Dog not far from me.
"T!" I yelled out, grabbing his attention. Quickly he looked up and I beckoned him over. Quickly he came, leaving his hose on the ground. He rounded the car, looking into the truck.
"Holy shit, Beau." He murmured, clapping me on the shoulder. I smiled up at him and rummaged through the blankets. "Guys, we've got water!" he shouted. A small cheer let up from those who heard and I began to grab out the gallons, while T-Dog grabbed the tools and blankets. T-dog had begun his walk back towards the camper, but the gallons were heavier than I expected, and awkward to hold, making it difficult to carry them under my arms.
"Son of a-" I muttered, dropping one. To my relief it didn't bust and I looked up to call out to t-Dog again, but he was already a ways off. I went to bend over to pick up the jug again but immediately stopped as I saw Lori, Carol and the kids scurry, low to the ground. A flash of movement and I saw Rick dip and weave between two SUV's, he looked around frantically, his eyes finally settling on me. Rick stared at me, wide-eyed, gesturing for me to drop to the ground. Slowly I sank, unable to take my eyes off of his fearful face.
Looking back into the distance I could make out walkers rambling between the cars. I looked back to the group and saw that Rick had moved underneath one of the SUV's and I looked down at my feet. The sedan was too low to the ground to climb under and quickly I began to scurry around the car, praying for an exit. There was none, only the trees the stood off to the side of the road.
"Pst!" I heard a sharp noise and looked up. T-Dog had made his way back to me, the bag of blankets still over he shoulder. He motioned for me to join him and I did. I slunk as quietly and as low to the ground as I could, until I was right up next to him, both of us crouched in hiding behind a totaled car.
"Holy shit." I breathed, my heart pounding in my chest. The walkers continued to walk forward, barely fazed by the cars they ran into. One had grown exceptionally close and I watch T-Dog as he peered over the door.
The walker turned in our direction and T-Dog, jumped, bumping into the door that we were both hiding behind. Something wet splashed my face and I looked back up to T-Dog who now held his arm, which was bleeding profusely. My heart sank as I looked from the battered door to his arm, the pieces clicking in my brain. When the zombie had startled him, T-Dog cut his arm on the door.
Slowly I reached my hand up to my face, running my fingers through the wet, sticky liquid that had splashed onto my cheek. I pulled my fingers back, almost shocked, and stared at the blood on my fingertips. T-dog bit back a scream and the gravity of the situation finally resonated with me. The walkers are going to smell him. Quickly I ripped my shirt, tying a tourniquet tightly around his arm, above the cut, but it did nothing to stop the bleeding. I could hear the shuffling growing closer to us and I could feel my stress level rising.
I glanced around quickly, finding the back of an 18 wheeler partially opened and knew it was our only chance. I grabbed T-Dogs shoulders, running us both a few cars back. We were almost there, but T-Dog stumbled, falling loudly into a nearby car. I flinched, looking over my shoulder. The walkers hesitated, looking around manically, and I knew they could smell his blood. T-Dog groaned, shaking his head, defeated.
"Now is not the time." I muttered, dragging him to his feet. We ran between a few more cars, but T-Dog was struggling and I knew he wasn't going to last. His hand had been glued to his arm, but as we were running it fell to his side and I glanced at the wound. It was deep, so deep in fact it was still spurting, much to my despair my tourniquet had done no good. He had cut a major vein and I could tell from the pallor of his face he was losing a lot of blood.
"I'm not gonna make it." He huffed, falling to the ground. I wasn't expecting the force of his fall and as T-Dog fell, he took me with him, both of us collapsing in a heap on the asphalt. My knee stung, he had re opened the cut I'd received the day before, and I reached for it, willing it to stop hurting. "Just go without me." He groaned, his eyes distant and cloudy. I shook my head, grabbing his collar, trying to pull him again. I could feel the panic rising in my chest as the groaning and the shuffling footsteps grew louder.
"I'm not going to leave you." I growled, hitting his chest in frustration. He looked at me through glassy eyes, he was tired and in pain, that much I could tell. "Now get the fuck up!" I groaned, pushing him again. Again he did not move and I watch, horrified, as a walker turned the corner of the car, his hungry eyes falling immediately on T-Dog and myself.