𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 (𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛)

𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒

A small glimmer of relief set in Daryl's stomach as he finally reached his group's old spot on the highway. Behind him, Carol slightly loosened her grip around his waist. He'd found her alone on the outskirts of the farm, running from a group of walkers.

Since fleeing the farm, Daryl felt like he could hardly focus on a single thing. A gaping hole stood in the middle of his chest.

She's in one of the cars. She has to be.

At the rear, two cars filled with survivors trailed his bike. He encountered them on the road by chance. Since then, he'd been leading them towards the highway.

As Daryl's bike slowed to a stop, Rick, Hershel, and Carl appeared from behind an abandoned red Chevy. The hunter parked his ride and quickly dismounted, anxiously watching the bloodied blue truck and the lime green SUV roll up.

"Mom!" Carl cried out in excitement as Lori came out of the truck. The boy ran over to his mother and she threw herself to her knees, embracing him with open arms.

As the rest of the passengers flooded out of the cars and ran to hug their families, Daryl noticed the absence of five group members. He tightly crumpled his fists until his nails cut into his palms.

"Where's the rest of us?" Daryl spoke up. A tiny voice in his head was already answering his question. He swatted it away and waited for someone to reply.

"We're the only ones who've made it so far," Rick said solemnly. Daryl clenched his jaw and felt his chest become still.

"Shane?" Lori questioned her husband. Rick hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

"Does anyone know if Andrea made it out? She saved me, then I lost her," Carol asked from beside Daryl. He felt sick.

"We saw her go down," T-Dog answered her.

"Patricia? Jimmy?" Hershel queried.

"Gone," someone said.

Daryl forced himself to breathe. The world was spinning off its axis.

"Where's Charlotte?"

Everyone else quieted down as Daryl's question lingered in the air. No one had anything to say. They merely looked at each other with wondering eyes like dumbfounded children.

"I saw her," Carl suddenly spoke up. Daryl jerked his head over to the boy and stared him down.

"Where?" He demanded. The boy slightly shrunk into his mother's arms but kept his chin held high.

"Last night when I went to find my dad she came looking for me," he started with a trembling voice. "She called my name. I turned around and she was there."

Carl looked to the floor with guilty eyes.

"But I didn't listen. I wanted to find my dad, so I ran away. I think she got lost or something because she wasn't following me anymore."

A ringing noise started in Daryl's ear. Why didn't she listen to him? Why didn't she stay in the house?

In the back of Daryl's bike, Charlotte's backpack was fastened securely under his crossbow. He found it in the living room as he was leaving the house. There wasn't much inside, so it weighed almost nothing. But it was hers. It was the only thing of hers he had. Daryl was determined to return it to its owner.

He said nothing and mounted his bike.

"What're you doing?" Rick questioned him.

"I'm goin' back for her," Daryl said with a tense voice.