Daryl carefully pushed the door open, his crossbow out in front. The bar was dark, silent. Dust had settled on the floor, counter, over the bottles. No one had been here for a long time. He knocked the crossbow against the back of a chair three times and waited. Nothing.
Satisfied he was alone, he put the weapon on the bar and moved behind the counter. He searched through the bottles to find something, anything with a proof higher than fifty percent.
A shadow moved across the glass door. He reached for the crossbow but relaxed when he saw Maggie moving inside.
"Want to be alone?" she asked.
"Don't matter," he said. "What's your poison?"
"Never got very good at figuring out what I liked. Daddy never kept anything in the house."
Daryl nodded, he turned behind him and found coconut rum. He pulled it off the rack which sat against the mirror and plopped it atop the counter. "Try that."
"As much as I want to just drink, I got Glenn out there. He's not really happy with the drink to oblivion plan."
Darryl shrugged and put the rum back.
"I just came," she began. "I wanted to tell you... thank you."
"For?" he asked while searching through the bottles.
"Being with her. Taking care of her."
"Taking care..." he repeated. He found a bottle of whiskey and tore the cap off. He drank.
"Just because things ended how they did, it doesn't mean it didn't matter. It mattered what you did. It mattered to her, it matters to me," she said. He took another pull from the bottle, never looking at her. "I just wanted to say that," she said and walked out.
Alone now, Daryl waited for her words to pass. He brought the bottle to his lips again-- he put it down on the counter before taking the next sip.
He spun around to face the bottles-- with all his might he pushed every bottle from the shelf, letting them smash to the floor by his feet, whichever ones remained he pulled out and threw across the room. Daryl stood, lungs short of breath, hands shaking.
Hidden behind the other bottles, he noticed a jar. A clear liquid sat inside. Slowly, Daryl reached out and took it. He unscrewed the top. Moonshine.
His hands weakened with the memory of it and the jar slipped from his palm, smashing to the floor like the others.
He lifted his head and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He slammed his fist into the glass, punching a dent with a hundred tiny cracks racing from the center. He saw himself through the broken glass. He saw broken eyes.
#
In the days following their fight, Daryl and Beth had barely spoken. They would break down their campsite in silence, the only sound was that of the hollow drool the dead made as they marched just beyond the trees. The horde they'd lost the week before had grown, and it was getting closer by the day.
The two ran, keeping their strides long to preserve energy, taking breaks to drink and eat. But mostly, they only ran.
"Where're we going?" she asked as they reached a clearing a few hundred feet from the slow moving horde.
"We're running" he said, turning to face her.
"I can't," she shook her head, trying to swallow the air around her and coming up short. "I need to stop."
"We can't stop," he said.
"Then go!" she shouted. "You wanna survive right? Here's your chance. Go."
He looked past her, the walkers were still too far to see but they weren't far off. He marched up to her and took out his water bottle. "Drink it," he told her. The two inches of water rocked in the small plastic bottle.
"It's yours," she said.
"Take it."
She wanted to resist but couldn't. Beth took the bottle and drank the last of the water. "I'm sorry," she said. He wasn't sure what she was apologizing for. "All we have to do is find someone good like you," she said.
"No good people no more," he said.
"Of course there are. You're good. Maybe we don't agree on everything but-" but before she could finish, she saw something. A man stood a hundred yards away, watching them.
For a few seconds no one moved. Then, the horde began to filter through the trees. The man saw them and turned his eyes back to Beth and Daryl. He spun on his feet and ran. Daryl grabbed her hand and pulled her, following the stranger.
"They're all over," Beth said. Daryl looked and saw the walkers weren't only coming from behind them but also ahead. The three ran parallel to the hordes as they closed in. The man vanished behind the trees head. A few seconds later, Daryl heard the scratching of a car ignition struggling to start.
The pair came barreling from the woods to find the man sitting in his Toyota, desperate to leave. Daryl reached for the door but it was locked. The hungry droll of the dead grew behind them as the walkers inched closer and closer.
"Open it!" Daryl demanded. The man turned frightened eyes to them but only kept turning the key. Daryl cocked his arm back, the crossbow in his hand. He looked to the window, knowing it would take a hard hit to get it to break.
"Wait," Beth said and ran to the drivers side. She looked the man in the eyes. "Please, we can help, we're good people, don't leave us."
The car sparked to life.
Daryl could hear the walker's steps as they broke twigs and crunched grass only yards away. He tightened his grip on the crossbow, about to break the window. The man looked at Beth, then Daryl.
The car locks popped open. They both jumped inside.
"See?" she crooned, lips locked in a smile. They jumped inside and sped off, leaving the walkers to stumble in from all sides. "He saved us when he didn't have to," Beth whispered. "Maybe there are some good people left."
Daryl knew it was true, and still, he doubted.
