Chapter 2
…
The truck's engine hummed steadily as they continued their journey northward, the backroads winding through dense forests and abandoned farmlands. Days had blended into nights, each one filled with an uneasy silence that pressed in on them like a thick fog. Drifting from one small town to another, scavenging what they could find.
Beth's thoughts often drifted back to their encounter with the group of men near the cabin. It was a memory that had burrowed itself deep into her mind, a constant reminder of the real dangers that still lurked out there overshadowed by the undead and loneliness. She could still feel the man's left-hand tightening around her throat, as his left yanked at her pants. The terror that had gripped her as she fought against him as his friends laughed around them. And she could still see the look on Carl's face when he had pulled the trigger.
The feeling of the blood that covered her as she yanked the knife up the guy's stomach that had dared to go for Carl, his attention away from Daryl. The noise Daryl had made as he overpowered the last two men. How she had held Carl close as Daryl made sure they wouldn't turn, so they couldn't come back to haunt them.
The road stretched out endlessly before them, but the closer they got to home, the more Beth's unease grew. Something in the air had changed, a tension that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
"Beth," Daryl's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. He nodded towards a small town that had appeared on the horizon, the buildings clustered together like a forgotten memory. A little town, her high school used to play during football season. "We should check it out. Might find some supplies."
Beth nodded, though her eyes remained wary. "Okay, but we stay together. No splitting up."
Daryl grunted in agreement, his gaze sweeping the area as they approached the town. "Just be quick about it. Don't like the feel of this place."
Carl nodded, "don't think they're here." He muttered, licking his dry lips.
They rolled into the town, the truck's tires crunching over the gravel as they came to a stop near the outskirts. The place was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made Beth's skin crawl. She tightened her grip on her knife as she climbed out of the truck, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of people, or walker.
As they moved cautiously through the deserted streets, they came across a series of wrecked military vehicles on the other side of town, their hulking forms a grim reminder of the chaos that had unfolded here. The sight of the dead soldiers, their bodies left to rot in the open, made Beth's stomach churn.
"Looks like they were ambushed, bodies are new," Daryl muttered, crouching down to inspect the tire tracks leading away from the scene. "Most likely a large group."
Beth's heart skipped a beat as she recognized a few of the towns on the new mileage marker, "Woodbury." She murmured. Her mind flashing back to the clearing as cold dread settled in her gut.
"What?" Daryl's eyes snapped to hers, he stepped closer to her.
"Those men - they said they were from Woodbury." Her words quiet so Carl wouldn't hear her or see the panic that filled her eyes as her gaze settled on the mile marker sign.
His gaze followed hers, his expression darkening. "Woodbury? You sure?"
Beth nodded, her mind flashing back to the moment she had heard the name, the men speaking of it as as a sanctuary, a place where everyone did their part - how'd they'd take them there after she had earned her place. "They said it was some kind of safe zone, but that I'd have to earn it."
Daryl's grip tightened on his crossbow as he scanned the treeline. Beth ushered Carl back to the truck. Daryl rolled out the map, circling a new area with his finger. "Let's head towards Newnan, it's a little north and west of farm. Away from the herd – away from Woodbury. We've had no luck south."
They gathered what they could from the wreckage—some MREs, a few jugs of water, and a military radio that Carl had found—and quickly returned to the truck. But as they prepared to leave, Beth's sense of unease only grew. The woods around them seemed to close in, the trees whispering secrets she couldn't hear.
As they drove away, the sense of being watched became impossible to ignore or shake. The rest of the day was filled with anxious glances back and around them, jumping or jerking at the slightest of noises. The next town they rolled through was smaller but was crawling with walkers.
Beth watched Carl curl up in the backseat, his eyes drifting shut as he curled his family photo to his chest. Her spoon twirled in the can of pinto beans she held in her hand, to anxious to eat.
Daryl's nudged her, she took in his clenched jaw, his gaze locked on the rearview mirror. "We got company," he muttered.
Beth's heart skipped a beat at Daryl's words. She followed his gaze to the rearview mirror and saw the faint glint of headlights in the distance, barely discernible in the dimming light. But that wasn't what made her breath catch; it was the shapes moving through the trees on either side of the road, nearly invisible but closing in on them.
"We're surrounded," Daryl murmured, his voice tight with tension. His hand tightened around the steering wheel, and she could see the strain in his jaw, the way he was calculating their next move, running through every possible scenario in his head.
Beth's heart pounded in her chest, the fear she'd been trying to keep at bay rising like a tide, threatening to drown her. She glanced at Carl in the backseat, his small frame curled up around the family photo he held close, blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed.
"Daryl," Beth whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
Daryl's eyes flicked to hers for a moment, and she saw the determination in them, a steely resolve that steadied her, if only a little. He wasn't going to let anything happen to them, not if he could help it. But the odds were stacked against them, and they both knew it.
She reached out and squeezed his wrist, "We gotta play this smart. We can't fight them, there's too many. We gotta go along with whatever they say, do what we must to stay together."
Daryl nodded, as he processed what she was saying. They had no choice but to submit, to wait for an opening and hope that they could find one before it was too late.
Daryl's eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror, then to the road ahead. The figures were emerging from the the trees, and she could make out their shapes more clearly now—armed men, moving with purpose, surrounding them.
Beth gaze was focused on Carl in the rearview mirror as she whispered; her voice barely audible. "What do we do?"
Daryl's gaze softened just slightly as he looked at her, and for a moment, she saw something almost like regret in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by the same steely resolve that had carried them through so much already.
He nodded once, as if coming to a decision. "We stick together," he said firmly. "And listen—if they ask, you're my wife. Carl's our son. Got it?"
Beth blinked, surprised by his words, but she understood immediately. It was a protective move, a way to make them seem like a family unit, something more solid, more difficult to separate or harm. It was a claim, a declaration of responsibility that might buy them all some measure of safety. They were just a family, trying to survive.
Beth nodded quickly, her eyes flicking to Carl, who was starting to stir, sensing the change in the air. She reached back, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep her voice steady as she spoke to him. "Carl, stay close to me, okay? We're going to be fine, but you need to listen to Daryl and me, alright. And play along with whatever we say."
Carl blinked up at her sleepily, his eyes wide with confusion and fear, but he nodded, clutching his photo even tighter. Beth squeezed his shoulder, trying to comfort, despite her own racing heart.
Daryl slowed the truck to a stop as one of the men stepped forward, his face obscured by shadows. He raised a hand, signaling for them to get out of the truck. Daryl glanced at Beth, and she saw the brief flicker of tension in his eyes before he masked it, his expression hardening into a calm, controlled mask.
"Alright," Daryl muttered, more to himself than to her. He turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt.
Beth nodded, her heart hammering in her chest as she followed his lead, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. She stepped out of the truck, her movements slow and deliberate, trying not to provoke any of the men who were now surrounding them.
Daryl came around to her side of the truck, his hand resting lightly on her back, a protective gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the men watching them. He reached for Carl, gently helping him down from the truck, keeping the boy tucked between them as they faced their captors.
The man who had signaled them out of the truck stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he took them in. "Just you three ?" he asked, his voice rough and suspicious. His own dark gaze darting around, looking for others.
Daryl's arm tightened slightly around Beth, pulling her close as he nodded. "Yeah," he replied, his tone firm. "This is my wife and our son. We don't want any trouble. We're just tryin' to get by."
Beth felt a chill run down her spine as the man's eyes flicked between them, assessing, calculating. She forced herself to hold his gaze, to appear calm and unafraid.
The man grunted, his gaze lingering on Beth for a moment longer before he turned to his men. "Search the truck," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Where are you from?"
"Near Senoia, but we lost our home to a large herd months ago." Beth sniffed, curling Carl into her side, her fingers combing through his hair that desperately needed cut.
Two of the men moved forward, weapons at the ready, as they began to search the truck, pulling out their supplies and tossing them onto the ground. Beth tensed, her fingers twitching toward her knife, but she caught Daryl's warning glance.
The men finished their search quickly, finding little of interest beyond the MREs and the radio Carl had found. The leader glanced at the supplies, then back at Daryl. "Not much to go on," he muttered. "Where were you headed now?"
Daryl hesitated for a split second, then nodded toward the direction they had been traveling. "North. Heard there might be a safe place up that way. Just tryin' to keep my family safe."
The man studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. Taking in Daryl's build, his crossbow, assessing of him of his potential use. "Alright," he said finally. "We'll take you to Woodbury. Let the Governor decide."
Beth's stomach churned at the mention of Woodbury, her mind flashing back to what those men had said, the way they had described it as a place she'd have to "earn."
Daryl nodded, his expression nearly unreadable with hints of mistrusting.
The man motioned for them to follow, and Daryl gave Beth a slight nudge, urging her to stay close as they walked. He kept Carl between them, his arm still protectively around Beth's shoulders as they were led away from the truck and deeper into the woods.
Beth's mind raced as they walked, her eyes darting around, searching for any escape routes, any weaknesses in their captors' formation. But there was nothing—no gaps, no openings.
Daryl hand on her back was a steadying presence. Carl walked between them, his small hand gripping Beth's tightly. She could feel the tension in his small body.
The journey was short, and soon they stepped from the thick of the trees into open space, where the remnants of an old town began to take shape. High walls loomed ahead, makeshift barriers constructed from scrap metal and debris, a clear sign of how seriously the people here took their security. It wasn't long before they reached a guarded gate, and after a brief exchange between their captors and the sentries, the gate creaked open to admit them.
Inside, Woodbury revealed itself as something of a grim paradox. The streets were cleaner than most places they'd seen, and there were people—families even—moving about with a sense of evening routine.
Beth's heart skipped a beat as they were led toward a large building near the center of the town. The man who had taken charge of them stopped in front of it and turned to face them.
"Inside," he ordered gruffly.
Daryl's arm around her tightened slightly as they were ushered into the building. Inside, the room was stark, almost clinical. A few people, clearly medics of some sort, waited inside, their expressions neutral as they prepared to inspect the newcomers.
"Check them for bites and injuries," the leader commanded.
Beth's heart raced as she exchanged a glance with Daryl. They had nothing to hide, but the process felt invasive, a reminder of how vulnerable they were. They stood quietly as the medics moved forward, checking each of them with practiced efficiency. Carl stayed close to Beth, his eyes wide.
Beth felt the cool hands of one of the medics on her arm, pulling back her sleeve to check her skin for any signs of infection. The touch was clinical, detached, but it made her skin crawl, nonetheless.
When the inspection was finally over, the leader nodded, satisfied. "No bites," he muttered, almost to himself with relief that surprised her. "Good. The Governor will want to see them."
Beth's stomach twisted at the mention of the Governor. She wasn't sure what to expect, but whatever it was, she knew they had to be ready.
They were led down a narrow hallway and into a room that had been set up like a clinic—beds lined one wall, and medical supplies were meticulously organized on shelves. It was a far cry from the chaos they had seen outside these walls, a stark contrast that made the place feel unreal.
As they waited, the door to the clinic opened, and a man stepped inside. He was in his early forties, well-groomed, with a demeanor that radiated both charm and authority. His eyes, though, were sharp assessing them with an intensity that set Beth on edge. This had to be the Governor.
"Welcome," the man said smoothly, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes spreading across his face. "I'm the Governor. I understand you've had a bit of a rough time out there."
Beth exchanged a quick glance with Daryl before nodding slightly. "We've managed," she replied cautiously.
The Governor's eyes lingered on Beth for a moment, his smile widening just a fraction. "You look awfully young," he commented, his tone almost playful.
Beth forced herself to smile in return, hoping to deflect any further scrutiny. "Just good genetics," she quipped lightly, though her heart pounded in her chest. She knew she barely passed nineteen, her actual age, trying to see herself as much older – would be a hard sell.
The Governor chuckled softly, his gaze shifting to Carl. "And this must be your boy," he said, his tone softening as he looked at Carl. "What's your name, son?"
Carl hesitated for a moment, then looked up at Beth before answering. "Carl," he said quietly, a small pause of hesitation before he continued, "uh – Dixon."
The Governor nodded; his expression almost fatherly as he studied the boy. "You're lucky to have your mom and dad looking out for you, Carl. Not every kid has that these days."
Beth's stomach churned again, but she kept her face neutral, her arm tightening slightly around Carl's shoulders. "We've been very lucky." She murmured.
The Governor turned his attention back to Daryl, his expression growing more serious. "You're a hunter, aren't you?" he asked, his tone indicating that he already knew the answer.
Daryl nodded, his eyes never leaving the Governor's. "Yeah," he replied, his voice steady. "I hunt, I track. Do what needs to be done , for my family."
The Governor seemed pleased with this answer, his smile returning. "Good," he said, nodding approvingly. "We need men like you here—hunters, warriors. The world's changed, and we're building something new here in Woodbury. A safe place for families. But safety comes at a price. We need strong people who can help protect our community, who can contribute."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his tone taking on a more persuasive note. "If you help us, if you help me, your family won't have to struggle anymore. You'll be taken care of, have food, shelter, security. All you have to do is your part."
Beth's heart raced as she listened to the Governor's words, the implications clear. He was offering them a deal, but it was one with strings attached strings that could tie them to this place, to him.
Daryl didn't respond immediately, his gaze locked on the Governor as he weighed their options. Beth could see the tension in his posture, the conflict playing out behind his eyes.
Finally, Daryl nodded slowly, his expression guarded. "We'll do our part," he said carefully, his voice low and measured. "But we're a package deal. My family comes first."
The Governor's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Of course," he said smoothly. "Family is everything in this new world. We'll make sure you're all taken care of, as long as you uphold your end of the bargain."
Beth's grip on Carl tightened as the Governor's words settled over them.
"Welcome to Woodbury," the Governor said, his tone warm but with an edge that left Beth feeling unsettled. "I think you'll find it's a place worth fighting for. Martinez show the Dixons to their apartment, stop by the pantry to get their rations. The crucial worker package. I have a feeling Daryl here will soon be one of my most valuable assists to Woodbury, much like yourself."
"I understand, Governor." Martinez nodded, his gaze flickering back over them. "Follow me."
Daryl's arm went around Beth's as they were led out of the clinic and into the heart of the town, Beth couldn't shake the feeling that they had just traded one danger for another. Her hand settled in Daryl's as he lifted Carl into his other arm.
The moonlight cast long, eerie shadows as they walked through the quiet streets of Woodbury. The town seemed almost peaceful under the night sky, a stark contrast to the tension Beth felt thrumming beneath her skin. Martinez led them in silence, his footsteps echoing softly on the pavement as they followed him.
Carl clung to Daryl's side, his small hands gripping his jacket tightly as he tried to make sense of their new surroundings.
After a few minutes, they arrived at a modest building near the edge of town. Martinez gestured for them to follow him inside, and they entered what appeared to be a pantry. The room was stocked with shelves of canned goods, dried food, and other supplies—a luxury they hadn't seen in months. Beth's stomach growled at the sight of it.
Martinez handed Daryl a large duffle bag filled with rations—enough food to last them for days, along with some basic necessities, and a bookbag for Carl. "This is part of the crucial worker package," Martinez explained. "Since the Governor sees potential in you, you'll be taken care of. Just do your part, and y'all will be living in the civilized world again."