Struggling (Sequel to Little Mouse)

The Highway

It had been a few days since we escaped from the CDC. Currently we were in a small clearing. Nearby, Rick, Dale, and Shane were arguing about where to go. I was standing by Daryl's bike, watching him tinker with the motor.

"What're you doing, exactly?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Jus' inspecting the engine." He muttered, tapping the engine with some tool I didn't know.

"Huh." I grunted, watching.

"Yeah. Nothin's wrong." Daryl stated, standing back up. He brushed his grease-covered hands together. I faked a gag at his blacked palms.

"You need to clean your hands before you eat." I declared, smirking at him.

"A'right, Mom." He muttered, throwing the same smirk at me. I laughed a little, just as I heard someone approaching me from behind. I turned around, only to see Sophia walked by. She waved kindly, and I waved back. However turning around was not the smartest move on my part. I then felt Daryl's rough, greasy hands running down my back. I jumped away, whipping around.

"Daryl! What the heck?" I demanded, my mouth open in shock.

"You said I needed to clean them. You never told me on what." He pointed out, smirking at me.

"I meant wash them with soap and warm water!" I stated, rolling my eyes in playful exasperation. Daryl just chuckled.

"Where am I gonna get that, Mouse?" He demanded. I rolled my eyes again. He had been calling me 'Mouse' since the CDC. It was honestly getting a little annoying.

"Why do you call me Mouse?" I asked, taking my jean jacket off.

"Cause." Daryl said casually.

"Cause why?" I mumbled, inspecting the jacket. It had two grease streaks. I inwardly groaned. That would take forever to get out.

Before Daryl could answer, Rick whistled. Whenever Rick whistled, it means that we were leaving. Daryl hopped onto his motorcycle and glanced at me. "Comin'?" He asked, patting the seat behind his.

I laughed a little. "You're insane." I said, turning to look around. Everyone else was piling into their vehicles. I could always go for the RV, but then again, it was easier to get motion sickness. And seeing how every other car was filled up, I felt the smirk falling from my face. Was riding a bike with Daryl worth not getting motion sickness? I sighed and turned to him, noticing the smirk on his face as he patted the seat behind him again. I bit my lip, knowing that I had no other option. Food was scarce, and I didn't want to throw up what little food I had in me. I threw one leg over the bike so that I was straddle behind Daryl. Then I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. He glanced back at me and smiles.

"You'll be fine." He stated. I nodded, resting my head between his shoulder blades. Daryl started the bike, and I squeaked a little, tightening my grip around his torso. Over the sound of the motorcycle, I heard him chuckling. He let go of one handle to pat my hands. Burying my face into his back, I squeezed my eyes shut as we started forward. Slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed.

After a few moments, I braved a glance upwards. The trees on either side of us were zooming past, and some walkers merely growled and reached, but they were nowhere close to catching us. I blinked a couple of times, and slowly sat up a little bit more. The wind was throwing my hair behind me and burning my cheeks and stinging my eyes, but dang, it almost felt like I was flying. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms more firmly around Daryl's waist, and I felt him pat my hands again. I smiled softly and took a deep breath, enjoying his musky, woodsy scent.

...

After a few hours, I felt Daryl's bike slowing down tremendously, making me look back up. Ahead of us was a huge traffic snarl, and it looked extremely tight fitting. I sat up higher now that the bike was going slower, and Daryl and I slowly maneuvered through the wrecked cars. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The place looked like a graveyard, and could easily be one. The motorcycle was very loud, and who knows how many walkers it'd attract. I clutched Daryl tighter, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of movement. There were hundreds of derelict vehicles, abandoned or littered with corpses, impeding our route. Daryl and I carefully lead them through a snaked out path. Most likely carved through by other survivors.