Daryl was still asleep when I had woken up about an hour before the sun started to rise. I gently placed the blanket he had tossed on me the night before on him. Making sure he was still sleeping, I quietly exited the tent and zipped it back up behind me.
When I fully stood up, I was met by Rick's somewhat familiar face. "Hey..." I awkwardly drew out the word, surprised to see someone else awake. I know Daryl and I did absolutely nothing but sleep, but I feel like I was caught doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing with someone. "Mornin' Sheriff."
"Good mornin' to you, too, Vesper." Rick had a small teasing smile on his face. "Daryl still asleep?"
I nodded. "Yeah, he is. Gettin' shot and impaled takes a lot outta ya, apparently."
"Apparently." He chuckled for a moment before his face and attitude became serious. It was hard to see in the dark, but I could see that his smile on his lips had disappeared into a firm line. "About the other day, when you and Daryl had gone out to look for Sophia..."
"Don't worry about it. Really. What happened, happened. There's no goin' back on it."
"The both of you almost died and the only thing that came of it was a doll."
The determined man that I had come to vaguely know over the past few days was no longer standing in front of me. Instead, there was a worn-down man that had probably lost countless nights of sleep for not only his son, but for Carol's daughter as well. It was a man that was trying his damndest to hold onto hope even though he was close to losing it.
"Yeah, we did almost die." I briefly looked down at my bare feet that was just barely covered by the excess fabric of my sweat pants. With a sigh, I looked back up at Rick. "But like I told my uncle, if it were Beth or Maggie, hell, if it was Jimmy... I would want someone out lookin' for 'em. All we can do is hope that finding her doll in that ravine means she's close."
I was put on bed rest by Uncle Hershel when I got back into the house. He was still reeling from last night and the past few day, so me sneaking out was the cherry on the cake. Hell, his face was almost as red as a cherry. Everybody had left hours ago to do shit on the farm, leaving me alone in the silent house.
An old paperback book that my dad gave to me years ago sat next to me, long forgotten. My eyes traced the brush strokes that dried in the paint on the ceiling. The ticking of the clock on my wall and the wind against the now closed window was the only sound that surrounded me. My fingers lightly traced the stitches on my thigh as I thought about the days the Rick's group has been here.
Everything was calm. It was just us in our own little bubble. The only grief that was felt when the dead started walking was when my aunt and cousin died. Then they came... Another body was added to our little cemetery. We were close to adding three more bodies: Carl, Daryl, and me. And who knows? Sophia may or may not be added to it if we even find her.
Uncle Hershel thinks the dead are actually sick. Does the rest of my family think that way, too? Am I the only the only one that knows of the dangers of those things? I mean, Maggie should know, right? She's the one that mainly runs into town.
And Rick... The look on his face this morning flashes behind my eyes every time I start thinking about that damn doll. Him and my uncle are right. I could have died, but instead I have a stitched up gash that practically runs the length of my thigh. How long would it take for it to heal? Would I be able to walk without a limp? Would I ever be able to run? All this for a kid I don't know- For a doll...
Would all of this even be an issue if it weren't for Rick's group or would it be the same, but with a different group? Would we be faced with a whole other set of problems? If we were, would those problems be easier to deal with or would they be harder?
There are so many questions that I wish could be answered. Would they ever be answered? Oh look... Another fucking question that will never be fucking answered.
The ticking of the clock echoed louder and louder in my ears. My breathing became more shallow with each breath I took. The fingers that lightly traced my leg started to tingle and I dug them deeper into the stitches.
I could feel sweat coat my entire body from the heat of my room. The wind outside knocked against my window as though it was begging to be let inside; and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't move to let it. My eyes remained stuck on the ceiling, burning as tears pooled in them. It didn't take long for them to mix in with the sweat.
Every fiber of my being was telling me to move. To shift around. To do something. But I couldn't. I was frozen- stuck in my own head and the only thing keeping me to reality was the self-inflicted pain in my leg and the stifling heat.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Snap out of it.
Tick-tock. Tick-Tock. Tick-tock.
Get up.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Please... Just get up.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Just get up!
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-Bang.
I was finally able to take in an actual breath of air with the sound of the first two gunshots. Reality snapped back into me like a bullet and I shot straight up. Two more gunshots were heard and I was quick to run out of my room and out of the house. I made it onto the porch when only a single gunshot rang through the air.
I paused for a second to find where it was coming from. When I saw everyone down by the old racoon barn, I practically launched myself into a full blow sprint. My shorts painfully snagged against a few loose stitches, but as a slew of gunshots sounded, my brain shut off again. But this time, I couldn't feel any pain.
And just like that, it was silent.
There was a line of humans in front of me and a pile of dead bodies in front of them. What snapped me back was Carol running towards the girl in a blue shirt with a rainbow. Daryl caught the woman before she could get too close, but her grief could be felt everywhere. Rick slowly walked up to the girl we had been searching for, holding up his gun to shoot her. With one final gunshot, Sophia slumped to the ground.
As I walked closer, I saw them. The two people I thought were buried underneath a tree. The two people I thought I was physically crying over. The two people I thought were laying next to Otis's empty grave... They were in that wretched barn this whole time.
My eyes glanced over my family before finally meeting Daryl's azure eyes. I could see a slew of emotions in them- all of them hard to pinpoint, but two of them were easy to pick out. Anger and disappointment.
Carol's tears were the loudest, but after she angrily shoved Daryl away and ran, Beth's were the loudest.
Beth was curled into Jimmy. Patricia was standing next to them. Uncle Hershel was kneeling on the ground with Maggie standing over him, a singular hand placed on his shoulder.
My youngest cousin rushed forward to the walker that was once her mother. When she flipped the walker over, it started to reach for her. Everybody, including myself, raced forward to pull them apart. I snatched the handgun from Andrea's grasp and when Beth was far enough from the walker, I shot it in the head.
Beth's cries were louder now that I was closer and her glare was more visible. I glared back at her and my uncle before I roughly shoved the body of the gun into Dale's chest. Luckily he was quick to grab it because I was quick to let go. I walked away from the messy scene and didn't stop even though I could feel blood pouring down my leg.
My ears were ringing, breath was shallow, and my hands were shaking. It felt like I was trapped in my head again, the only difference was that I was able to move. Turns out a few of my questions were answered by the 'almighty' God Uncle Hershel talks about.