"In our history, across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise
Dabbled with the flickers of light from the dress I wore at midnight
Leave it all behind."
– Happiness, T.S.
Mila
"Son of a bitch!" Daryl yelled as he barreled through a clearing up ahead of me. I couldn't help it– my heart raced, an old bodily response that had been ever present for as long as I could remember. I let him run up ahead, once again wary of what I'd find. I saw a small group of people gathered around a mass on the ground and edged my way behind a tree, trying to peer around to pick up on whether he had lied to me or not. It looked like mostly men from where I was standing.
"That's my deer! Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease baring, motherless, poxy bastard!" Each word was punctuated by a sharp kick to something that I couldn't see, but based on his description, it sounded like a member of the undead.
"Calm down son, that's not gonna help." I heard an older voice that reminded me of my grandpa. Soft spoken while being opinionated. Parental, almost.
"What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'on golden pond'?" I didn't get the reference, but snickered anyway. I was intrigued by Daryl, who had been so cautious and languid in the woods, but who now seemed to be a whole different person– filled with magma and made of sharp edges. "I've been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison. What do ya think– can we cut around this chewed up part right here?"
"I would not risk that." A different voice, cocky and commanding. It felt like a good sign that no one seemed to be the overt leader and that multiple people were weighing in. Some of these groups gave off major cult vibes in how they followed whoever they thought would keep them alive.
"That's a damn shame. I got some squirrels…" at that moment, Daryl seemed to remember that I existed and was somewhere nearby. He scanned the trees, but couldn't see me. "Mila, you can come out now." I saw the men look at each other questioningly, no doubt wondering if Daryl had lost his marbles from the Georgia heat.
"Daryl, who the hell are you talking to?" Mr. Cocky asked with his hands on his hips, looking unconvinced that there was anyone else out in the woods. I hesitated, biting my lip and rocking my weight on my feet. It was now or never– did I trust them? Did I trust him? I sighed and made a choice, taking a step around the brush I was hiding behind to reveal myself.
"Hi," I said quietly, shyly. My muscles were tense, ready to run at the first sign of trouble. Daryl smirked as he turned back to Mr. Cocky.
"Her. Found her while I was tracking, all alone." It worried me to have it announced that I was alone, but I let it slide because anyone with the gift of sight would be able to deduce that I was. My eyes immediately found his, looking for any trace of malice or darkness. I didn't find any, but that did little to help the feeling that I was in some even more fucked up version of Hansel and Gretel and had unwittingly led myself to my demise. "Hey, I think we're freakin' her out– being just a big group of guys standin' here. Can we get some of the women and kids? Prove I wasn't lyin'?"
I exhaled a small amount of tension I was carrying, reassured that Daryl seemed empathetic enough to know this was a risk for me and that no one corrected him to say 'actually, we don't have any women or kids because we've murdered them all.' A petite woman came out of the trees, touching one of the men on the shoulder as she passed, and smiled comfortingly at me.
"Hi there, I'm Lori. Did I hear your name was Mila?" I nodded and took a small step closer to her. "My son, Carl, is around here somewhere. But we also have Andrea," she pointed to a blonde woman, "her sister, Amy," my breath caught as she pointed to another, feeling the stab in my chest from missing my own sister, "Carol, her daughter Sophia, and Jacqui. You are more than welcome to join us– I can't imagine how scary it is to be a woman all alone out here."
I wasn't always alone.
"We don't really need another mouth to feed…" Mr. Cocky spoke again, staring me down. Heat rushed to my cheeks, both in embarrassment and anger. I said nothing but stared at him right back, in rebellion, knowing my options were limited.
"Shane!" Lori scolded.
"Considerin' I'm the one providin' all the food, I think I'll be the one to worry about how many mouths we have to feed," Daryl glared at Shane before looking at me, "You stay if ya wanna stay."
I nodded, but said nothing, as I took a few more tentative steps to Lori. She put a warm hand around my shoulders and said, "We're happy to have you. Let me show you around."
Daryl walked up ahead of us to the camp as the rest of the group followed.
"Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel, let's stew 'em up." His back was turned so he couldn't see what I did, but a wave of tension visibly rippled as they looked at each other hesitantly. I fell to the back of them, where I could keep my eye on everyone while maintaining a safe distance. I didn't know what was going on and I didn't like being out of the loop.
"Why don't we go over here?" Lori said with a tight smile, gesturing to a picnic table a bit away with laundry piled on top. "The boys have some talking to do." We walked out of earshot, for the most part, but I could still hear some yelling. My shoulders jumped up, wanting to defend the person who had brought me here, but I held myself back, knowing that walking in the woods for an hour didn't mean I knew who Daryl was.
"Anything I should be worried about?" I asked, eyes locked on them, trying to read lips. Lori looked up from where she was folding laundry and shook her head.
"Not really. Daryl has a… loud mouth brother who stirs up trouble. The boys recently went into Atlanta for a supply run and had to leave him behind. Daryl isn't going to take it well."
"Who would?" I replied bitterly, thinking of the things I'd do to anyone I met if they had left my sister behind. "Blood is all you got now. The only people who care if you live or die."
Lori looked at me with a healthy amount of concern, before letting her face relax into another small smile and replying.
"I like to think that's not true. I hope we get the chance to prove it to you. These are good people here, we look out for each other. Chosen family counts too."
It was quiet for a beat. I mulled over her words and sat down on the picnic bench, deep in thought about Aly and where she might possibly be or what she might be up to. My brain didn't let me consider the alternative. It hurt too much.
"That one there," she said, nodding at a man in a white tee shirt with a real all-american demeanor, "is my husband, Rick. He's been missing since the outbreak and we just got him back yesterday. Miracles happen all the time, even now."
A scuffle broke out where the men were and I caught Daryl throwing his string of squirrels at Rick before Shane put him in a chokehold. Daryl struggled, futilely, before submitting and being thrown to the side by Shane. I glared at his back and wondered why he had to be so rough with someone who was obviously grieving and scared. Lori quickly marched over to them and I followed closely behind them.
"To hell with all of y'all! Just tell me where he is, so I can go get 'im." Daryl's voice was strained and it cut me to my soul– a physical representation of the pain I'd been feeling for weeks. At least, I guessed it had been weeks. It wasn't exactly like I had a calendar. Lori's voice broke through them.
"He'll show you… isn't that right?" She said it directly to Rick, like it was a challenge. Even I knew the right answer was 'hell no,' despite knowing them for only ten minutes.
"I'm going back." Rick affirmed, looking right at her. Lori's breath came out in a sharp, resigned exhale before she turned and walked into an RV parked on the campsite grounds. I stayed outside, watching the group silently come to an agreement before dispersing and wondering what the hell dynamic I just walked into.
As darkness fell, we sat in a semi circle around a fire that was more embers than flame but which warmed me nonetheless. It must be something built into our DNA, back from caveman times, to find watching the dancing, orange flickering so comforting. Carol cooked Daryl's squirrels with enough to go around that almost everyone could have a whole animal to themselves. I felt bad, knowing I hadn't done anything to earn my keep yet, and tried to only take half, but Carol wouldn't have any of that.
"You deserve the full amount, just like the rest of us. You'll have plenty of chances to help us provide for the group, but you eat tonight." My stomach grumbled in anticipation– that old trailmix had been holding me over for longer than I'd like to admit. I'd been rationing one small handful a day for too many days to count and got dangerously close to the bottom of the bag. I'd already given Aly all the M in it too, so it was all soft nuts and gritty raisins.
I perched next to Carl and Sophia, always finding myself more relaxed around kids than adults, but couldn't help my eyes from flicking across the fire to look at Daryl. He was deep in thought and not looking at me, which gave me plenty of time to scan across his face, memorizing the tension in his brow and his deep frown. He had tried to leave to find Merle immediately, but the sun was going down and Rick managed to talk him into waiting for first light. He didn't want to, but couldn't deny that they'd be in for a world of trouble if they got stuck on the road at night– especially with the car headlights broadcasting their movements to every walker in the forest. I admired his restraint. Walkers or not, if I knew Aly was trapped on a roof, my ass would be flying down the highway and pushing the limits of how fast one of our rustmobiles could go.
Too consumed with my own hypothetical situation, I didn't notice that the person I'd been staring at had looked up and was now looking back at me. I visibly startled before snapping my eyes away to look at Sophia. Shit. I landed in a conversation about her class pet that she had at school before the outbreak. Despite the fact that I was laughing with her about a turtle that the kids had named Princess Madeline, mini tiara and all, I could feel eyes on me. His eyes. I swallowed and tried to ignore the flip in my chest, keeping my smile glued onto my mouth. My cheeks were starting to hurt.
"What about you, Carl? Any class pets?" He pondered the question before answering.
"No… but my neighbor did have a hamster named Chunky George." All of us dissolved into giggles at the silly name. It brought back a memory from deep in the vault, when I could've only been around ten.
"You know, when I was little…" I hesitated, worried it would bring up questions I didn't want to answer, but pushed on for the sake of entertaining the kids, "my sister and I found a kitten behind our house. This pretty little thing, all white with a few brown spots on her. She almost looked like a cow. I was probably ten which means Aly was seven. I was dying to name her 'Wendy', from Peter Pan, which was my favorite book. But Aly said she had the perfect name. So after a game of rock, paper, scissors– which I let her win, by the way– she got to choose the cat's name."
I looked back at the fire, smiling– both savoring the memory and building anticipation.
"Wait… how do you let someone win at rock, paper, scissors?" Carl asked, face screwed up in thought.
"When you know someone well enough, you can see what they're thinking. It's all in the eyes," I said with a smile. I could read Aly like a book. A squint for rock, a mischievous glint for scissors, a confident smirk for paper. "I knew what she'd pick and picked the losing one back."
"Well? What did she name her?" Sophia pushed, smiling and eyes lighting up in excitement, clearly done with Carl and I's discussion of the strategy involved in throwing a game of RPS.
"Fruit Loop."
"Uh… what?" Carl asked, confused.
"Fruit Loop," I repeated, giggling to myself. "Like the cereal. She loved it so much that she thought our cat should be named after it. And I let her." Carl and Sophia giggled again, loving the silliness of a pet being named after breakfast food.
My joy at the memory faded into something a little more wistful and sad. My gaze naturally gravitated to the ground for a second, trying to get a grip on my emotions, before looking back up– naturally and accidentally meeting pale blue eyes across the fire that were still watching me. Heat rose to my cheeks and I stared back, trying to decipher his expression, before he abruptly stood up and wordlessly headed to his tent.
"Well guys, it's getting late. I should probably find somewhere to sleep." I looked around the circle with what I'd hoped was a warm expression. "Thank you for letting me stay here with you and for feeding me. I really appreciate it and look forward to being useful… hopefully someday soon." It was half a self-deprecating joke and half serious– it made me deeply uncomfortable to accept kindness or help if I can't give anything back.
"We're happy to have you. I think you're gonna fit right in," Andrea replied with a smile. "Plus, we need more women so this place doesn't turn into a total sausage fest."
Amy gasped and said, "Andrea!" while Carol and Lori laughed. I noticed an angry looking, heavyset man glaring at Carol which made her promptly stop and I narrowed my eyes in his direction. I'd seen that look before and immediately knew what he was… I wondered if the whole group did too, or if that's a gift only given to people who have lived it.
"Well, thank you again. I guess I'll call it a night. Night everyone!"
The rest of the group said a chorus of goodnights before I slowly made my way to the box truck that I'd be calling my bed. It wasn't ideal, but it was certainly better than being left out in the open in the forest. At least I had walls around me and a floor to keep me off the ground. Another night of survival.
—-
Daryl
I stalked back to my tent, ripping the flap open and throwing myself onto my back nylon swooshed as I got comfortable, sliding myself into the worn sleeping bag that had accompanied me on countless hunting trips throughout my life. I clenched my jaw as I felt irritation bubble up my throat. I couldn't take another moment of everyone sitting around, acting like it was no big deal that they left Merle to die on a roof without any ability for him to free himself. They would've treated a damn dog better than that. Sure, he had a habit of pushing buttons just because he wanted to and could piss anyone off in less than fifteen seconds, but he was still a human being. Did everyone else think they were so perfect to be around?
Shane, with his patronizing tone and slimy morals– giving it to his best friend's wife when the body's hardly cold. Except, whoops, turns out he's not dead at all. Interesting how that works. Then there's Lori. Not awful, but snobby and looks at me like scum on the bottom of her shoe. The one time she thanked me for bringing back a kill for dinner, she looked like it physically pained her to get the words out. Then there's Dale– what does he even do to contribute? Other than acting like his opinion is fact and judging anyone who disagrees. He can fix simple car issues, but Jesus if he won't spend double the amount of time to explain it to someone who doesn't care. Glenn's alright, at least he goes on runs and stays out of my way. Ed, a piece of shit abuser who reminds me of my old man. Carol, who does a lot of the washing and cooking but just takes Ed's jabs lying down, even letting her kid get caught in the crossfire of it all.
I rolled on my side, groaning in frustration. Rick's words echoing in my head. Your brother doesn't play well with others. Why couldn't Merle ever listen to anyone else for a change? He had to start shit at all times and paid no mind to the consequences. But did he deserve to die for it? Was he still alive, calling out for my help? Would he still be there tomorrow? It was eating me up to think about. Would he even go back if it were me?
At least the new girl had a good reason not to care. She'd never even met Merle, not that they'd have been friends anyway. Merle didn't befriend anyone he couldn't fuck or fuck over. It was part of his DNA. Shame covered me like a veil as I realized I was relieved he wasn't here to say something stupid to her. Despite how different we were, people looked at me as an extension of him and I got judged for the dumb shit he said, as if I've ever been able to make him shut the hell up about anything. The best way to deal with Merle was to tune it out and wait for him to tire himself out. That was the way to make sure you never heard it again. Above all, he just wanted an audience– the walking epitome of even bad attention is still attention.
My mind conjured up images of Mila telling stories about her sister, looking lit from within by the glow of the fire. There was something deeper there, something sad, but she still spent her time trying to make the kids laugh. It took me weeks to say a sentence to anyone other than Merle. I gave Shane the occasional monosyllabic answer, but here she was, a few hours in and already integrating. We even caught each other's eye and she was looking at me like she saw something other than the piece of shit drug dealing hick that everyone else did. I had to walk away before I could watch her face change as she realized she was wrong.
The frogs and crickets were singing loud tonight, helping me clear my mind of anything other than Merle and how to get to him. I forced away any thoughts that remotely got my hopes up– to hope is to be let down. I'd had enough disappointments for a lifetime. Rick agreed to take me at dawn, so I flopped back onto my back and willed sleep to come. God knows I'd need it.
—-
Mila
The sudden creak of the metal door being pulled up and the shudder of the box truck woke me with a start– I wasn't sleeping, not really. Couldn't, not since…
"What the hell are ya doing in here?"
Daryl's gruff voice barked out with too much volume for my liking for how early it was. I groaned and sat up, looking at him with his hands still on the raised door, deliciously using them to lean forward into the space. Biceps and shoulders flexing from where they stood exposed in a cut off flannel shirt. An early morning sun peeked out behind his back but as far as I was concerned, we could be in a hailing thunderstorm and it wasn't a sure thing that I'd notice.
"There was nowhere else for me to sleep. It was this or out in the open." I stretched and rolled over onto my back before sitting up straight, resting my weight on my palms flat behind me.
"Well, yer gonna have to find somewhere else to go. We're leaving for Atlanta. Now." He stomped through the truck bed before using his foot to blare on the horn. "Let's go! C'mon!"
"Someone's a morning person," I grumbled, moving to stand and grimacing. Turns out sleeping on cold metal all night makes your back hurt. I jumped down out of the bed and found Rick walking up. "Hey, I'll go today," I shrugged. "It beats sitting around and waiting."
"You don't gotta do that. We have enough people," Rick clapped a hand down on my shoulder and moved to walk around me, the subject decidedly settled for him.
"Oh yeah? Who?"
"Me, Daryl. T-Dog. Glenn."
I narrowed my eyes at him, calculating.
"So… what? You and Glenn sit up front and then hope Daryl doesn't murder the guy who lost the key to his brother's handcuffs in the back? You sure you couldn't use an extra set of neutral hands?" I didn't like playing this card and it physically made me nauseous to think about, but it's the only card I had, "I do have skills, you know."
"Skills, huh? What kind of skills?" His southern drawl was heavy as he asked, and I could tell I piqued his interest. I cringed internally, I didn't want to answer that despite me being the one to bring it up.
"You'll just have to wait and see," I replied with a cheeky smile. Better to underpromise and overdeliver than to have them think I can perform magic.
"Alright, come on. Before Daryl blows a gasket."
As if on cue, Daryl honked the horn again. I hopped back in the truck bed and took a seat on the hard floor, pulling my knees up to my chest and leaning my head back on the wall. Glenn and Rick took their places up front while T-Dog and Daryl sat down. T-Dog and I were on the same side, a few feet away, while Daryl sat across from us.
"What're you still doing here?" Daryl somehow found the perfect balance of irritated and curious, which made me feel both annoyed at the tone and flattered that he'd even cared enough to ask at all.
"Just didn't feel like getting out, I guess," I deadpanned. He took a seat, all the while glaring at T-dog, before Glenn put the truck in drive.
"Ya better not slow us down," he warned, and I rolled my eyes– not justifying his statement with a response. It wasn't the worst ride I'd ever taken, but I'd be lying if I said we weren't bouncing around in the back like popcorn. During one particular hard bump, I was launched into the air and slammed my head back against the metal wall with a loud thomp.
"Ow," I grumbled, mostly to myself.
"Hey, watch it up there!" Daryl shouted to Glenn.
"Sorry!" Glenn replied back, nervously.
Daryl just rolled his eyes and chewed on his thumb. I glanced over at T-Dog, who was taking the quiet opportunity to shut his eyes and get some rest before being launched into the war zone that was Atlanta. I nervously debated what I wanted to do before deciding not to be weird by overthinking it and scooted my way over to Daryl's side of the truck. He caught what I was doing mid-way and stared at me suspiciously, once again sizing up what exactly I was trying to do. Almost as if I were about to trick or trap him. What could I even do back here? Once I was close enough for him, and only him, to hear me speaking quietly, I stopped inching and relaxed against the cool support behind me. Neither of us looked at each other, waiting to see how this played out.
"Hey, so uh… thanks for bringing me in. And not being weird in the woods," I cast a self-conscious glance at him before looking back straight ahead. I didn't know why this felt so vulnerable. I thanked everyone last night just fine. Maybe because it was hard to gauge how Daryl would react to any interaction.
"Don't mention it," I kinda thought he'd end the conversation there and went to move back to my spot, when he broke the silence. "What do ya mean by weird?" I stilled, staying where I was.
"Oh… you know," I grimaced, carefully choosing my words. "A woman, all alone in a secluded area without a way to protect herself. You found me while you were also alone, with a big ass weapon…" I trailed off, not really wanting to spell it out. The way his shoulders tensed up, I think he got it.
"That's what ya think of me? That you should be thanking me for not… attacking you?" I looked over at him to find him already looking at me, jaw set tight and veins popping out of his neck. "Good for the redneck dick, not taking advantage of a woman in the woods," he scoffed.
My heart pounded as my cheeks flushed. My mind raced to find an explanation as I verbally berated myself for offending the one person here who I was actively trying to befriend, who had saved me from spending the night alone on my ass in the dirt.
"Shit, no. I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."
I hated the desperation in my voice, but I was desperate to get him to understand that it really wasn't about him. It was coming out faster than I could think, otherwise I would've changed the words that followed.
"I just haven't been so lucky with other men who have found me," I deflated, embarrassed that he now knew this deeply personal thing about me. "That's all. I was starting to question if any good men still existed. Now I know they do."
The silence was deafening. I couldn't bear to look at him, so I counted my breaths and focused on the whoosh of my blood in my ears. I picked at the callouses on my left fingertips, letting my brain float me to the quiet place where nothing existed. His voice brought me back down to earth.
"Shit. 'm sorry. I didn't know," he hesitated, not knowing what to say. How could anyone? There was nothing to say. Nothing that could make it better.
"How could you?" I braved a look at him to see him already looking at me. I silently prayed I wouldn't see pity in his eyes, and I didn't. Just fury simmering beneath the surface and an emotion I couldn't place. "It sucked to be a woman before. It really sucks now," I tried to joke but it fell flat with the seriousness of the topic.
"Men like that don't deserve to breathe," he spat, quietly, as his eyes flickered to the front of the cab to make sure that no one else could hear us. I exhaled through my nose with a small smile.
"No disagreements here."
It was true. I still thought about violent daydreams involving setting them on fire or tying them to a tree surrounded by walkers. It would be impossible to do, but felt cathartic– or maybe just widened the black hole that grew every day in my soul. "Hey, I'm sorry about your brother. Merle."
Daryl looked over at me, slightly surprised, before chewing on his lip in worry.
"If you knew 'im, you wouldn't be sayin' that."
My eyebrows threaded together as my brain sifted through the chatter I'd picked up from camp about what he was like. Racist. Sexist. Misogynist. But he was still Daryl's brother, and Daryl had good in him. Maybe Merle did too.
"Maybe… but he's still a person. Still your brother. Sibling connections are unlike anything else. Two sides of the same coin and the only person who knows your history as well as they know theirs. Who knows what your childhood bedroom looked like or what your favorite food was when you were 8. They can piss you off like no other, but missing them feels like missing a limb."
My thoughts drifted to Aly and how sick she made me of mac and cheese– the only thing she'd wanted to eat for months. I didn't have the heart to tell her no when our life was already filled with so few joys. I always said if I never ate it again, it would be too soon but I'd happily tuck into a mixing bowl sized amount if she were next to me to share it.
"Yeah… that's exactly what it's like," I could see a slow spread of understanding in his expression and knew that he could tell that I was speaking from experience. I held my breath for what was sure to follow. "Where-"
"We're here!" Glenn called back, interrupting Daryl's question. T-Dog stirred and started to get up. Rick opened his door and hopped out. I exhaled a sigh of relief and took the hand that T-Dog was offering to help me up before looking over at Daryl.
"We'll find him," I promised. We had to. Maybe if there was hope for him, there was hope for me.