Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 38: The Empty Tomb

In the weeks that come, I see things in a new light. The community is stronger, each one of us, and we thrive together. Fighting off the undead the way we did, fighting for our home, has emboldened us and brought us closer together.

We bury our dead, holding funerals for Jessie, Ron, Sam, Elliot, and seven other Alexandrians who died during that bloody, vicious night. We add eleven more names to the memorial wall.

Carl recovers from his injury. Denise helps him manage his physical therapy while he gets used to his new lack of depth perception. I notice him practicing his aim in one of our designated practice areas often.

We start rebuilding the wall, and weapon training continues. Maggie spearheads development for farming plots so we can start growing produce just as soon as we get the seedlings. Elliot's collection will help, but we'll need heartier stuff if we want to be self-sustainable.

With the help of a beekeeping textbook as well as Abraham and Tobin's building help, we construct a good-sized hive to put in Elliot's garden, and I almost weep with joy when I first notice a few fuzzy black and yellow scouts scoping the place out. With patience and love, we'll have honeycomb and beeswax to make salves. We'll have fresh honey to sweeten our meals. According to the textbook, it takes at least three weeks for bees to fully settle, and it could be months before there's anything to harvest, but I believe that we'll make it that long. This place has staying power, and I'm not the only one who believes it. Maggie and Rick talk about Alexandria like we're going to be here for the rest of our lives, however long or short it'll be.

Tabitha misses Elliot. She spends a lot of time curled up by his rocking chair, sighing heavily, but even she starts to perk up as more people visit the infirmary to help tend to the garden, eager to learn more about its upkeep. Carl and Enid start taking her along for their walks with Judith.

The community feels safer, stronger than ever. I wake up each day eager to see where the world takes us. I keep my knife on my hip even though I rarely catch myself reaching for it. I haven't felt this safe since the prison.

I don't linger on the likeness for too long. I will never forget how the prison fell, but I believe that we cannot let such things stop us from trying again. Humanity has to survive somehow, and I know that safety can breed weakness.

The compound bow that used to be Len's sits unused in the armoury, but I find myself going over there more and more, signing it out just to carry it around. When I hold it, I think of the night I let myself snap. I think of the taste of blood, of my fingernails raking at skin, my throat raw with screams, and I think of the soft resistance of the W woman's eyes. I bear the scars from her teeth on my forearm, a reminder of how dangerous this world is and what I must do to keep surviving it.

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I walk with Daryl towards the front gate, chewing a ginger root and trying not to wrinkle my nose too much at the slightly zingy spice it has to it. While my nausea has been decreasing, the ginger is a lifesaver for when it does come around. Daryl promised to keep an eye out for anti-nausea meds and prenatal vitamins on his run today.

He makes a snorting noise in his throat. I glance at him, my mouth still full, and I lift my eyebrows in what I hope is a questioning motion.

"Denise made this, right?" he asks. He holds a small scrap of lined paper, creased from being crumpled in his pocket. "The hell is orange crush? That's a soda, right?"

He shows me the list, and I cover my mouth lightly with my hand as I chew, nodding a few times. His lip quirks at the side.

"Wonder why..." he trails off as he glances behind us. "Oh. Hold on." I turn as he starts towards Denise, who's currently doing a brisk power walk down the street. "Hey!"