Who's Darcy-Ann Dixon? 》Rick Grimes

Chapter 3-Where are We Going

It was a sorrowful night. Close to no one got any sleep after the attack. Now the sun was in the sky—a bright blue day, despite everyone's depression as a result of lost loved ones. Funny how the world works. I stand next to Dale, as the two of us watch the group. The group is slowly working, burning the walkers and putting our dead into piles, after driving a pick-axe through both human and walker heads.

Andrea still sits over with her dead sister. She hasn't said anything—understandable.

"Andrea," Lori's soft voice speaks out as she kneels next to her. "I'm so sorry. She's gone. You gotta let us... take her. We all cared about her and I promise we'll be as gentle as we can," she assures. No response. Lori stands up and walks away.

Daryl grunts as he shoves a pick axe into another dead one's head. T-Dog and Glenn drag it and put it in the fire.

"She still won't move?" Rick asks, walking up on the other side of Dale, his shirt was more dirt than cotton now, a great majority of it now brown, despite it being newly washed just yesterday morning. Yesterday morning seems so long ago now.

"She won't even talk to us," Lori speaks up. She's sitting on a car seat, and Carol (another lady of the group—she has a daughter, and her husband who is now part of the dead. Good riddance.) Rick looks at her, though slightly cold. So she told him...

"She'd been there all night," I pipe in, him turning his attention to me. "What do we do?"

"Can't just leave Amy like that," Shane states. He's sitting on a bucket, next to where Rick's standing. Rick won't even look at him. "We need to deal with it. Same as the others."

Rick nods his head, still not looking at Shane. "I'll tell her how it is." He walks up to Andrea, and begins to kneel down. "Andrea—"

He's cut off by the sound of a pistol being cocked and aimed at him.

"Whoa," I mumble to myself, pulling a pistol out of my waistband cautiously. One I took after last night, to be sure. Never having one before that was a mistake.

"I know how the safety works," she says in a low voice.

"All right. Okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he says, backing away. She puts her pistol down, looking back at her dead sister. I slowly put mine back in my waistband.

"Y'all can't be serious. Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a timebomb," Daryl protests. A small group was gathered around in a circle. I was now sitting in a fold-up chair.

"What do you suggest?" Rick asks.

"Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, the two of us can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance," Daryl says looking at Rick, wagging a finger between him and I.

"No," Lori's stern voice comes. "For God's sakes, let her be." She sits back down.

"And what?" I ask, jumping up. "Let the dead girl come back? Look, I get it. The girl lost her sister, I'm pretty sure I'd die if I lost Daryl. But we can't let the dead girl become a danger. Or Andrea for that matter..."

"Andrea, a danger?" Lori asks.

"You saw the way it was! She just pulled a pistol on Rick for a dead woman!" I say, putting emphasis on the last three words. There was a silence for a few seconds. Daryl scoffs and walks off, pick-axe over his shoulder. I slump back in my chair, running my hands over my face, letting them rest there for a moment. This was just too much.

"Wake up, Jimbo. We've got some work to do," Daryl commands as he walks by him.

I sigh, sitting down for a moment longer as Glenn tells Daryl and another guy (Morales, another guy in the group, he has a small family. A wife, daughter, and son) how we don't burn the people, we bury them.