Detached [TWD Fanfiction]

Chapter 9

'Can I have a word?' Rick asked Daryl.

'Sure.' Rick had broken the news to the group about Shane, about them all being infected, and it had been a lot. He still needed to tell Daryl something, but the rest of the group didn't have to know. They stepped away from everyone else.

'I know you and Lucy got on well. And I don't know if you saw her but she got shot.'

'How?' Daryl asked.

'Shane.' Both paused, thinking again about how much damage Shane had done.

'I saw her, so did Carol. Didn't see a bullet wound though, was dark.' He sighed. 'She told me to take Carol. I said I'd go back but she told me not unless we were all safe.'

'You think she'd still be there?' Rick wondered if she would have waited. Probably not.

'Maybe. Maybe not. Could be dead.'

'If you want to go-'

'Nah. I think she made it clear, she wants to be alone,' Daryl said firmly. Rick nodded, and sat back by the campfire, leaving Daryl stood by himself. He hadn't planned to go back. Not that he wouldn't, but they weren't exactly safe yet. If she had been shot, she could have turned. He remembered their deal and couldn't help but think about whether or not he had let her down and if the right thing to do was to go back and check. Now he was very much considering going back.

Three days later he did. He'd gone on foot so as not to draw attention to himself with his bike. It was late in the afternoon and the group had been able to settle in a run down house several miles away after checking the area for safe spaces with no walkers. They planned to stay there for a few days, or until they were forced away again. He hadn't told the group where he was going, brushing it off as a day hunting in case any of them wanted to join him or try to take back the farm - he knew it was a lost cause. Besides, they would only slow him down.
When Daryl arrived, the first thing he noticed was the barn. A mass of charcoal and burnt flesh surrounded by ash was all that stood there. It had collapsed on itself, fuelling it's own flames. Some walkers were pinned underneath beams of wood, several still moving. The fire had burnt off their clothes, hair, and most of their skin. He ignored them and kept walking. Even if they could stand they would fall apart.
He stayed close to the trees, avoiding the dead that were still spread around the fields. Approaching the house he could see a walker through a window, wandering around the room. He assumed there would still be some in the house. If Lucy had gone in she wouldn't have been able to clear it, especially after being shot. It was possible she wasn't in there at all, but he had to check. He had to at least know if she had waited.
To get to the house he'd had to take town a few walkers. He did so quickly and quietly, doing his best not to bring the whole field running towards him. The trees acted as cover, though a couple had come from there too. Leaving the farm had certainly been the right thing to do; they'd never have been able to clear this many walkers in one night. Once he reached the front door, Daryl took a moment to look at the scratches on the wooden planks of the house. Blood and dirt was smeared in thin lines, some chips of wood poking outwards and some planks displaced altogether. The door itself was marked too. Anyone would have thought the group had stayed inside the house and walkers had been trying to dig their way through, clawing at the door relentlessly. He went inside.
He immediately noticed the three dead walkers on the floor. She had definitely been in here. Small, neat holes through their eyes indicated use of her arrows. He walked around the bodies and peered into the kitchen - another two were dead in there. There was no sign of her still being in the house. He knew her bags had been in the kitchen but nothing was there now.
A thud from the room next door drew his attention. The dining room door was closed, but he could hear movement inside. He moved to stand outside it, gripping the door handle. With his knife raised, he swung the door open, and gasped.