"Combat, I'm ready for combat,
I say I don't want that,
But what if I do?"
– The Archer, T.S.
Daryl
He better be up here. Alive. I was already pissed, seeing the state of the building and city they left him in. You couldn't cough without a walker on your ass and they'd already broken through the front door. I had to kill one wandering around on the way in. The only consolation was that Merle was at the top of a large flight of stairs, which seemed like a lot of effort for people who were already dead, with a chain looped around the door's handle. T-Dog brought his boltcutters to the lock, breaking them with a snap, and we burst onto the roof of the building. I pushed my way first, not able to handle another moment of the fear noosed around my throat.
"Merle!"
He wasn't here. The walkers got him. The walkers got the only family I had left, the only person I could actually trust. Well, as much as anyone could trust Merle.
"No, no, no!"
I was vaguely aware that someone was screaming, but it took a minute to register that it was coming from me. I'd let him die, all alone. A painful, terrifying death. I dropped to my knees, panting, and beat my fist on the concrete, over and over. I learned a long time ago that physical pain is the only thing that can even come close to numbing emotional pain.
"Daryl."
Mila's quiet voice cut through the noise, my burning knuckles stilling their attack on the ground. I jumped up to where she was looking, knowing she wouldn't have called my name while I was losing my shit if it weren't for something important. Partially obscured by the metal pipe lay a severed hand. Merle's hand. Gruesome, but it pointed to someone who willingly walked off that roof and wasn't eaten by dead assholes. Hope jumped into my chest, but my brain was slow to catch up, still pissed that he had been put in this situation at all. I gripped my crossbow and pointed it at T-Dog. You did this. I was seeing red, the only thought in my head was a chant– do it. I heard the safety of a gun click off, followed by Rick's voice.
"I won't hesitate. I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."
A tense pause, as everyone waited to see what would happen– even I didn't know what my decision was going to be. A breath caught, capturing my attention and making my eyes snap over to the source– Mila. Wide eyes, pleading with me. Please don't do this. As clear as if it were written on her forehead. She looked too scared to breathe, as if making any move would make me fly off the handle. I didn't want to be another reason for her to be afraid. Without breaking eye contact, I slowly dropped the crossbow before looking back at T-Dog.
"You gotta durag or somethin'?" T-Dog handed me a bandana from his pocket. I tried to inspect the hand for a clue of when Merle may have done this, but couldn't gather much from it. It was cold, kinda blue, rigid. Could've been three hours or ten, it all meant nothing to me. I wrapped it up and placed it in Glenn's backpack. He didn't look too happy about it but fuck 'em.
"I guess the sawblade was too dull for the handcuffs. Ain't that a bitch," I thought out loud, "He musta used a tourniquet– maybe his belt. Be much more blood if he didn't."
"Total amputations bleed less than partials. The arteries spasm and give you some time to control the bleeding," Mila spoke up and I stared. How the hell would she know that? Everyone else must've had the same question because it took a second for anyone to speak.
"Uh… why do you know that?" Glenn asked, looking mildly concerned. Mila shrugged in reply.
"I'm a wealth of knowledge. Can't read a map for shit though, so don't put me in charge of that."
Glenn didn't look reassured by her answer. I didn't have time to play detective about where she picked that up. We followed the trail of blood down to the kitchen, where we found a flame still burning on the stove and a discarded belt. A charred, goopy substance was dripped over the grates.
"What's that burnt stuff?" Glenn asked.
"Skin. He cauterized the stump," Rick spoke up, although Mila looked like she'd known what it was since we walked in. Glenn turned a pale shade of green, but I wasn't surprised by Merle's tenacity.
"Merle's a tough son of a bitch," Mila announced to the room, "The fact that he's still standing after a self-amputation, killing two walkers, and cauterizing it himself without anesthetic. I hope he finds himself a stiff drink." I glanced over at her, appreciative that someone else had anything but a bad word to say about him.
"Toughest son o' a bitch I know. Could feed him a hammer and he'd shit out nails. Nobody can kill Merle but Merle."
"You can track a deer… can you track your brother?" she asked, a hint of a challenge in her voice.
"Hell, I better. He's smarter than a deer, though." My eyes began tracking the blood on the ground until I reached a broken window.. "He busted out."
"He left the building?! Why the hell would he do that?" Glenn sounded distraught on Merle's behalf, which surprised me a little.
"Why wouldn't he? He thought you guys left him for good," Mila's tone was more accusatory than I'd expect. Another surprise.
"He'll do what he's gotta do. Whatever it takes to survive," I affirmed. I gave Mila a dip of my chin in thanks, relieved to have one person on my side.
"You call that surviving? Wandering out in the streets, maybe passing out? What are his odds out there?" T-Dog questioned. What would they have done if they'd been in his shoes? Hoped for help from a group that was long gone?
"No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks." T-Dog and Glenn at least had the sense to look guilty when I called them out. I moved my attention to Rick. "You couldn't kill him. Ain't so worried about some dumb, dead bastard."
"What about a thousand dumb, dead bastards? Different story?" Rick countered, in a way that made me want to punch him in the face.
"Take a tally. Do what you want, I'm gonna go get 'im." I went to step around Rick, but he pushed my chest back and stood in my way.
"Daryl, wait."
"Get your hands off of me! You can't stop me!"
I was starting to feel trapped, like the walls were closing in. If I wanted to risk my life to go get him back, that was my damn decision. Find Merle or die trying. As much as I tried to act like nothing could get to him, the odds weren't looking good. The city was overrun and would be a challenge for a skilled fighter– which Merle was not. I know for a fact that he didn't bring enough drugs with him to keep from going into withdrawal. Shaking, sweating, hallucinating. Missing a hand. Not a good combination when you're trying to dodge the famished undead.
"Daryl, wait. Rick's right. We have to be smart about this. That's the only way we'll get him, and everyone else, back alive." Mila's face looked at me with so much hope and care, pleading with me to listen. The world slowed down and got quiet.
"I can do that."
Earning me a bright smile. Worth it.
—-
Mila
After an hour of back and forth, we finally had a shaky semblance of a plan. What had Glenn called it? A running diversion.
"You're not doing this alone," Rick's disapproval for this plan was obvious, which involved Glenn putting a target on his back as bait.
"Even I think it's a bad idea, and I don't even like you that much."
I threw a disapproving glance in Daryl's direction. I knew it was a lie– Glenn wasn't his best friend, I'm not sure Daryl had one, but I saw the way he listened when he spoke. Daryl respected him in his own way. It was my turn to address Glenn.
"I think I should go instead." My eyebrows shot up as a chorus of "no's" came from everyone in the group. "Damn, well that's a little offensive but okay."
"I found ya in the woods, hiding behind a tree and without a damn weapon. What the hell do you think you'll be able to do out there?"
"I do know how to run. When you found me, I did have a weapon… I just happened to have forgotten it in the bottom of my backpack. I was conserving my energy, in case I was outnumbered. I didn't know I was hiding from a cranky hunter." I threw the last part at him with an eye roll. "I just think Glenn would be a bigger loss for the group."
Everyone stared at me, for the second time in a few hours. I was starting to think I shouldn't be so honest with what I was thinking all the time. It never seemed to go over the way I thought it would.
"Don't say that, girl," T-Dog interjected, looking at me with sympathy and using a tone usually reserved for pep talks.
I rolled my eyes with a smile, trying to bring the mood back to neutral and show them I really didn't care. I could discuss my existence the way someone else would talk about what to have for dinner. They weren't understanding me right.
"Look at how you all shot me down when I was just trying to be bait. You obviously don't think I have any combat skills, we all know I can't read a map, and I'm half the size of all of you– Glenn excluded." I gave him an apologetic smile. "That's why you're so fast. Anyway, I can be fast too. Glenn knows his way around the city and is an asset for you guys. I'm just another mouth to feed." I didn't mean to, but I parroted Shane's words from yesterday. Thankfully, I was able to say it with a lot less bitterness than I actually felt. I hated being a burden.
It was silent for a moment too long and I was starting to get uncomfortable. T-Dog and Glenn looked at me with pity, Rick looked at me in slight surprise, and Daryl had an expression I couldn't read. Maybe… mad? But that seemed to be his default setting, so that wasn't new. Probably unrelated, I thought. Finally, Rick spoke.
"I appreciate the thought you've put into this, but we're not losing anyone today. Glenn, make the run. As you said, Mila, he knows the city the best so he should be the one to navigate it under stress. Also if you can't read a map, how do you expect to know where to run to?"
I hadn't thought that far ahead. I gave a sheepish smile and shrugged, hands up to the ceiling.
"Make it up as I go?"
Daryl huffed next to me and moved to lean against the wall, fists clenched at his side.
"Daryl and Mila, you stick to this alley here." Glenn started pointing at the makeshift map and directing the plan. "I'll go down with you and then break off to go get the bag. Daryl, you'll be my backup with your crossbow– much quieter than Rick's gun. Mila, I'm gonna believe you're fast so you're going to be diversion plan B, if needed. I'm gonna run like hell so we don't need it."
Glenn began directing Rick and T-Dog to their alley, as I tried to commit the grid to memory. I knew it was a waste of time and blew a slow breath through pursed lips before walking over to Daryl.
"You're gonna have to be the one to keep track of that stuff," I noted, gesturing to the map. "I think I have it now, but I know I don't. Aly used to say that one wrong turn for me on the way home meant I was hopelessly lost. I've been really suffering since GPS has disappeared."
I tried to bring some levity back to the mood and smooth things over before we were stuck in a life or death situation again. He leveled me with a steely, unamused look.
"Didn't seem to mind when ya were asking to be the bait."
His tone caught me off guard. He was mad. At me? Why? Didn't matter. When in doubt, deflect and minimize. My two favorite verbs.
"Eh, I would've figured it out." He rolled his eyes and then stepped around me to address Glenn.
"Hey kid, what did you do before all this?" Glenn's face screwed up, conveying his mild confusion at what he saw as an out of the blue question.
"Delivered pizzas. Why?" I snickered, causing him to look at me.
"They were wasting your talent," I squeezed his shoulder, "Let's go kick some walker ass?"
And with that, we turned to head down to the street.
So that's how I found myself crouched in an alley, behind a dumpster, with Daryl perched next to me. We were silent and I wondered why I had the awkward urge to fill it. Being an introvert was my default setting and it usually made me more comfortable, but it wasn't hitting the way it usually did.
"Hey, I'm sorry if I made you mad… again." The second time in a day and it was only noon, judging by where the sun was in the sky. His eyes stayed locked on the street we were watching, the picture of focus.
"When?"
"I don't know. Earlier? Being bait? I caught a vibe." Self-consciousness wrapped around my body like ivy. Was I being a total girl about this and still managing to be too sensitive– in the middle of the fucking apocalypse? When everyone had about twenty reasons at any given time to be unhappy? "I didn't think it was that dumb of an idea."
His expression hardened and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head.
"Just didn't like hearin' ya talk about your life like that."
Now it was my turn to look confused. However, before I could ask what he meant, my eyes got wide and I pointed to a teenager walking through the alley.
"Look."
Daryl's eyes followed my finger and he immediately stood to his full height while readying his crossbow.
"Whoa, don't shoot me! What do you want?" The teenager's eyes were wide in fear and his lip trembled. I furrowed my brows and stood up too. What the hell was he doing out here?
"I'm lookin' for my brother– he's hurt real bad. You seen 'im?"
Before anyone could react, the boy was screaming.
"Ayudame! Ayudame!"
Spanish. I was by no means fluent, or even good, but my panicked brain tried to conjure all of the words I knew. Once, this would've been somewhat easy. I was well-versed in using my Spanglish to get by. The words were all clunky in my head now though and felt like they were on the tip of my tongue, just out of reach. I rushed to put my hand over his mouth.
"Uh… por favor… uh… lo siento… callete! Cuidado… no necessitas ayuda!" I didn't think I was doing a good job, based on the fact that he was still screaming. I was only half convinced I was even selecting the right words. For all I knew, I could've just told him I'd kill him myself. Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I saw two men stalking down the alley toward Daryl's turned back.
"Daryl, look out!" It was too late, as they landed blow after blow on him. I let go of the teenager and went to push one of the men out of the way, to try and give Daryl a chance to stand. I took my knife out and raised it to the other. "Back the fuck up."
Before I could react, one of them hit my arm and the knife was knocked out of my hand, loudly clattering to the floor before sliding under the dumpster. At that moment, Glenn reappeared in the alley with a bulging duffel bag that he struggled to carry.
"That's it! That's the bag, vato. Take it!"
Glenn stumbled which caused the bag to fall off his shoulder and land in the street. He paused with frantic eyes, weighing his options between the bag, the walkers stumbling his direction, and the men charging him before running back and grabbing one of the straps. Unfortunately, one of the other men got there at the same time and firmly had the other strap in his hand.
"No!" I shouted, already sprinting for them. I knew how much we needed this to keep everyone safe. Who knows what these men would do when they were fully armed?
I heard the one that was behind me cry out in pain and turned around to see a bolt sticking out of his ass. Good. I stretched my arm out in front of me, reaching my fingertips out to brush the edge of the bag when suddenly I was launched sideways. Someone had collided with me and pushed me to the ground. I groaned as I turned over and tried to catch the breath that had been knocked out of me. Before I could move, I was being grabbed and thrown into the back of a trunk.
"Oh, sh-"
The trunk had clicked shut before I could finish my sentiment, leaving me in the dark. Dread sunk low into my gut as I heard the squeal of tires and felt the lurch of the car.
—-
Daryl
I kicked a table with my heel, wishing it was that homie's face.
"Damn it!"
Rick came over to give me a stern look.
"Daryl, calm down. We'll get her back."
I glared at him. Calm down?! I just had to watch them throw her down on the asphalt before launching her into the back of their trunk. I was supposed to be protecting her, but I was tied up by those pricks blindsiding me with a bat. I managed to get an arrow in one of them, but I've never felt as helpless as I did watching those rearview lights get further and further away. After what she'd told me on the way to the city, I vowed that no one would hurt her again. Not even two hours later, I had failed. It made me livid to think of anyone taking advantage of her. We had only known each other for a little over a day, but I could easily see she was a good person. Better than most. I decided to redirect my anger into something constructive, which was new to me.
"Where is she?!" I slammed my hands on each side of the chair that the punk ass kid was sitting in. He jumped a little, but otherwise managed to keep a straight face. I growled as I walked away, getting frustrated with doing things the "right" way. It'd be much easier to beat the answer out of him.
"Jesus, man, what the hell happened out there?" T-Dog was looking at me to answer– did he expect me to tell a story with a different ending?
"I told you, this little turd and his douche bag friends came out of nowhere and jumped me. They bodyslammed Mila before throwing her in their trunk. If they took her, maybe they took Merle too."
Maybe I'd find both people I was looking for in one place. The only thing standing between me and them was the kid in front of me.
"You're the one who jumped me, puto, screaming about finding his brother like it's my damn fault. And what kind of a hick name is Merle? I wouldn't name my dog that." If looks could kill, he'd have been a pile of body parts on the floor. "That girl though, Mila– is that what you called her? She was hot. I'd pay to spend a little time in the trunk with her." That did it.
I lunged at him, ready to kill, but got caught by Rick and T-Dog. I kicked my foot out anyway to try and make contact with his face, but missed. Damn it. Fucking asshole. I needed to change tactics. I stalked over to Glenn's backpack, searching it until I found the bandana from earlier.
"Wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?" I tossed Merle's hand in his lap causing him to flounder like a fish out of water and fall out of the chair. I would've laughed if I weren't so pissed. "I'll start with the feet this time."
It was supposed to be an empty threat, but it didn't feel that way when my hands were still shaking with anger. Rick tapped in, moving me a safe distance away from the kid.
"The men you were with took our friend. All we want to do is talk to them, see if we can work something out."
Rick was back to playing peacemaker, trying to use his words to get what he wanted. Seemed like it was taking too damn long when they could be doing god know's what with Mila.
"Yeah, and how do I know you're not gonna go all Rambo on their asses when you get there?" The jackass asked Rick, as if he had any leverage to be arguing.
"You don't. You're just going to have to trust us."
Whatever the punk saw in Rick's face, he nodded begrudgingly and asked for a map. I leaned in real close and flashed the knife on my belt.
"They better not have laid a hand on her or I'm taking off your feet anyway… just for fun," I snarled, in as menacing of a voice as I could muster. He managed to look a little scared and I walked out to have a smoke, satisfied that he wouldn't be jerking us around.
—-
Mila
"Hey, it's time."
I looked up from where I was sitting in the common room, a book in my lap and multiple octogenarians scattered around me. Two sleepy chihuahuas huddled together next to me on the threadbare, gray couch. I sighed and stood as Ricardo tied my hands behind my back, too loosely to hurt but tight enough that I couldn't readily pull my arms out.
"You know, you can just talk to them like regular people. You don't have to put on this whole show. They're good guys– they won't screw you over." I urged as Ricardo led me out of the room and through the building.
"Yeah," he sighed, "we've heard that before. Can't take any chances. Oh, almost forgot."
He pulled out a roll of duct tape and carefully placed a strip across my mouth. I cocked an eyebrow to show I disapproved and let him continue leading me through supply closets and hallways. Finally, I heard a voice in the next room that I recognized.
"Where is she?"
Gravelly and filled with quiet fury, I shivered at how protective it sounded. Despite never having heard it a mere twenty-four hours prior, I knew I'd forever be able to pull it out of a crowd of people talking. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wondered how Daryl reacted when he saw me being kidnapped. The logical part of me said that he didn't know me and wouldn't care, but the optimist in me hoped he would.
"Show her to us, so we can see she's unharmed. If she is, we have one of yours and you have one of ours. A fair trade." Rick was negotiating, moving the chess pieces. I nervously wondered if they thought I was more or less important than the bag of guns.
"Don't sound even to me," Guillermo replied, "Ricardo, bring her in." That was our cue.
Ricardo lightly pressed on my back to get me moving. I stepped into the room, surrounded by testosterone and weapons, and tried to telepathically catch my group up on what I already knew. They're putting on a show for you. This isn't actually what they're like. They gave me food and water and books. They've got old people back there playing checkers. Based on the worried way they looked me over, I don't think they got the message. Pale eyes caught mine as they looked over my face and body, squinting as if to try and see any hidden injuries.
"This little mamacita was a welcome surprise," Guillermo ran a showy fingertip down the side of my cheek. I huffed in annoyance but it also made my heart race in that way that I hate– not because he'd actually do anything, but just because it reminded me of the men who did. In my peripheral, I saw Daryl stiffen and Glenn gulp. "Even if her Spanish sucks." I narrowed my eyes at him. He told me earlier that it wasn't that bad. Liar.
"Don't fuckin' touch her."
My eyes snapped over to see him, crossbow tensely raised at Guillermo, without acknowledging the fact that doing so caused at least ten guns to be raised toward him. I vigorously shook my head at him, screaming NO in my head and willing him to stop and think for a second, scared shitless that he'd actually pull the trigger. He must've thought I was trying to communicate something different though because he suddenly took a step forward and bared his teeth before addressing me.
"They hurt ya?"
Once again, I shook my head– this time in a controlled manner. Maybe it would make me seem more credible and deescalate whatever the fuck was about to happen.
"Give me Miguel and the bag of guns, and you get your girl back."
My heart jumped into my throat at the use of your girl, and I hated myself for it. Guillermo crossed his arms and waited for an answer. Rick's only response was to push Miguel, still bound, into the crowd of men.
"There's your man. Now give her back."
"Are you deaf? The bag. Of guns. Or I'm gonna chop her up into a million pieces… but not until we have a little fun with her first."
Daryl took another angry step forward, but Rick was quick to catch his arm this time. He leaned in close to whisper and I could only just make out what he said.
"He's goading you. Don't let him win." Daryl looked down, thinking about what to do next, before setting his jaw and taking a step back, resuming his position in line.
Rick continued, "You said come locked and loaded, and we did." At that moment, Rick, T-Dog, Daryl, and Glenn raised their weapons at Guillermo. "Here we are." I tried to speak under the tape over my lips, but it came out all muffled and no one even glanced my way. Fuck.
"Felipe! Felipe!" An old woman came running out into the crowd of very tense men, shuffling as her wide eyes looked around. "What's going on?"
"Abuela, go back with the others!"
"But Mr. Gilbert is having trouble breathing! He needs his asthma stuff."
My head immediately snapped up as I made eye contact with Guillermo. I could see him debating between his two choices– keep up the ghost, or let me help and show Rick that it was all a ruse. He rolled his neck and groaned before quickly walking over to me and ripping the tape off.
"Ricardo, cut her loose. Now!" Suddenly, my hands were free. I rotated my shoulders in their sockets, tense and tight from the awkward position for the last 20 minutes.
"Where is he?" I asked Maria, Felipe's abuela.
"In the common room."
I took off down the hall and up the stairs, hearing thunderous footsteps behind me. I burst through the door and saw Mr Gilbert, gasping for breath with the muscles in his neck contracting repeatedly from exertion. He was bent over his knees– a typical tripod position– and looked extremely uncomfortable.
"Mr Gilbert, it's Mila. I'm here to help." I went to the cabinet where the inhalers were kept and pulled the box down to bring it next to him. I kneeled on the floor in front of him as my hands nimbly searched through the canisters. "Here we go, take a deep breath." I turned to look behind me, seeing Guillermo, Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog. "Do you have any other medication here? I need steroids– prednisone, dexamethasone. Look for any '-sone's." I turned back to Mr. Gilbert.
"Which one did you use today– this one or this one?" He pointed to the one on the right. "Remember what we talked about? This one is your albuterol, the one you use when you can't breathe. This one is your controller– you use it every day, but it won't help immediately when you can't breathe and you have to rinse your mouth out after. Got it?"
Mr. Gilbert nodded as he slowly took breaths from his albuterol inhaler. I picked up a stethoscope from the medication box and put the tips in my ears before putting the bell on his back. "Deep breath… another… another. Good, you're opening up. We'll have you right as rain within the next hour." I said, giving him a comforting rub on the back. I looked up to see confused looks. "What?"
"You some kinda… doctor or something?" Rick asked me with a questioning brow.
"God, no," I snorted, waiting a beat before reluctantly answering, "I was a nurse, once upon a time. They needed some help passing meds earlier so these guys figured me out quickly. By the way, you kinda oversold the whole mamacita thing." I said that last part to Guillermo directly, rolling my eyes, and caught him looking guilty. As he opened his mouth to speak, Rick interrupted him.
"What kind?" I suddenly felt shy, a blush rising to my cheeks.
"Emergency."
"Jesus, Mila. You tried to sacrifice yourself for Glenn! Do you know how useful an ER nurse is to have around?" I laughed at Glenn's offended look at Rick. My amusement died slowly and simmered to a smile before I spoke again.
"Ah, so you agree… you did think I was somewhat useless before." I gave him a cheeky look, feeling vindicated, before coming back down to earth. "Seriously though, I can't do much without supplies, medication, a doctor. I'm still borderline useless."
I tried to keep my tone light, but I think my face gave it away. The way they were looking at me gave me that claustrophobic feeling again, like the air was being sucked out of the room. It was too much pressure, being on the pedestal. I'm just a girl who knows random things that will probably never come in handy again.
"You seemed to do just fine right now," Rick smiled at me kindly before facing Guillermo, "So, I think the jig is up… You are the dumbest bastard I've ever met. We almost killed you." Guillermo had the sense to flash a sheepish wince.
"Yeah, well, I'm glad it didn't go down that way. Let me give you a tour."
As Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog followed Guillermo, Daryl made his way over to me.
"Ya sure you're okay? They treat ya okay?" I felt like he was looking into my soul. It made me nervous, so I looked away.
"Yeah, I'm okay. They were all bark, no bite. They even gave me some books to read," I threw my arm out to show him my spot on the couch with my book still open on its spine, as if waiting for me to come back.
"So… a nurse, huh?" He was giving me a look I couldn't decipher again. I didn't like how this kept happening. Usually, I had a pretty good read on people but his poker face was next level.
"That's me," I sighed, "Hope nobody's looking at me like their savior now. I can't perform miracles."
I could feel my face growing dark, but couldn't seem to help it. If Daryl noticed, he didn't say anything. Just rubbed his chin before shaking his head.
"Nah. We know that wakin' up every mornin' is the only miracle any of us can hope for. You're off the hook."
I wished for his words to relieve me, but I knew that none of them were the ones who put unreasonable expectations on me. I did that all on my own.
As dusk threatened to fall, we lingered by the exit of the nursing home.
"You know you can stay, right? If you want to? We could always use another nurse," Guillermo offered hopefully before glancing at my group, standing by the door and waiting for me. Just out of earshot. "How much do you know about them anyway?"
They were speaking in low voices, no doubt planning our trek back. My gaze roamed over them, lingering longer than necessary over muscular arms and icy eyes. I smiled before turning back to Guillermo.
"I'll take my chances with them. They came back for me. That's gotta count for something," I gave him a pat on the arm before walking towards the door. Over my shoulder, I added, "Thanks, though! Take care of my friends!"
"Ready to go?" T-Dog asked me as I approached them.
"I was ready right around the time I got thrown into a trunk."
We took off out the door and down the road. It was relatively quiet, no walkers that we could see– Guillermo's guys must've done a good job of trying to clear the immediate area.
"You've given away half our guns and ammo. We had Mila. We coulda kept 'em," Daryl's tone had a hint of annoyance and more than a little judgment.
"Not nearly half. They needed them," Rick defending his choice made me warm up to him a little. He obviously had a moral code to uphold and I can appreciate that.
"For what? A buncha old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyway? Seriously, how long do you think they got?" Daryl, your lack of faith in humanity is showing– I wisely kept my thoughts to myself.
"How long do any of us got?" Rick's counter silenced Daryl. I chimed in.
"If you'd have asked me yesterday, I would've thought I had less than 24 hours left."
I bumped Daryl's shoulder with mine, a small smile quirking the corner of my mouth. The others walked ahead of us, leaving Daryl and I to follow them. He cleared his throat before speaking again.
"Yeah, well, you hold your knife like that again, you may not get another 24."
My jaw dropped in fake indignation.
"What's wrong with the way I hold my knife?"
"Your grip is all wrong, that's why it got knocked out of your hand."
My eyebrows knit together as I pulled it from my belt and held it in my hand.
"What's wrong with this grip?" Before I could even finish my sentence, Daryl had smacked my hand and caused the knife to go flying to the floor. With a raise of his eyebrows, he silently told me what was wrong with it. I leaned down to pick it up. "Okay, then what's the right way?"
We stopped for a second as he reached his hands out towards mine, hesitating before using his fingers to move mine into a new position around the knife. His hands were warm and rough, but surprisingly gentle. Despite the fact that it was over in less than five seconds, it had sent tingles up my spine and a flush to my face.
"Like that. They won't be able to knock it out that way." He smacked my hand again but the knife stayed firmly in place. The butterflies in my stomach flapped so aggressively that I worried he would hear them. I internally rolled my eyes at myself— who still had crushes when the world was ending? We resumed walking, side by side.
"Thank you." I looked over to him, once again shy, through my lashes. He looked slightly uncomfortable, his cheeks flushing, and gave me a curt nod.
"Uh, guys?" Glenn's voice broke through our moment, if you could call it that. "Where's our truck?"
"Who would take it?" T-Dog asked, "We left it right here."
"Merle." Rick made his name sound like a threat. Daryl shot him a concerned look.
"He's gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp."
I gulped. "Shit, well then we better get going."