In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 28

"In my head, in my heart, in my soul."

Erica

There's walkers in the barn. Literal walkers. In the literal barn. Around a dozen, which could break out at any given time and stumble down to camp.

"No, no, back up. Back up." I held a hand up to silence Bela-- sorry, to silence Maggie, who was trying futilely to come up with something to excuse the sheer insanity we were all bearing witness to at this very second. "Your fake-dad, who trusts in a God we both know is not real in the all-holy Christian sense he thinks he is, wholeheartedly believes that these are sick people that he is going to somehow cure and release back into society? And you're just letting him think that?"

"I-I, well... they're a little sick?" Maggie offered awkwardly. I stared at her. She winced at the look. "I-I couldn't be sure! For all I knew, this was all temporary! I'd never have forgiven myself if there was a cure out there and I just let all those people go like that!" 

Hah. Hah hah. Coming from the woman who had killed dozens of people or at least tried, present company included. What do I even try anymore? Yeah, okay. Sure. They're a "little sick", if you want to understate the obvious. The only issue is that the sickness has already killed them, and whatever's happening now...

Well. It's certainly a virus. It's just that the virus has taken the corpse on as a host. The soul's in there still but if there was a solid way to reattach it, this wouldn't be a problem in the first place. The angels would've done it or the demons would've, if only to keep the natural working order of things in place. 

They are literally rotting. From the inside out, they start to decay. If the smell wasn't obvious, the lack of morality and consciousness had to be. They were mindless at this stage, driven only by hunger. Aside from their ability to move and make noise, there wasn't a single living thing about them that I could see.

"Well, there ain't no cure. So I suggest yah handle this little problem before it gets someone eaten, girl." Dixie cup snapped out. God, I love him. I really do. I should've told him I had a career path in killing the supernatural ages ago. Or would he have shot me for being crazy if I did that? We'll never know. 

"I-I'm really not comfortable sleeping with them that close." Glenn agreed hesitantly. He jerked slightly when another bang came from the barn wall, shivering slightly as he eyed it. Like he hadn't just gone on a wild adventure through the woods to molotov a wendigo. "We have women and children down at camp. Not all of our group is composed of capable fighters."

And wasn't that the truth. The people up in the Holy Shepherd's Casa de Jesus Farmhouse don't seem super capable either, but maybe Maggie being a certified badass makes up for it. Which I hate to call her one, because she's a total bitch, but I'm not blind nor am I in denial. She gave us a run for our money at her best. 

Maggie seemed to wilt, her entire body slouching. I massaged my temples, willing the forming headache to leave me be and let me exist in peace. Spoiler: not going to happen. What's a girl got to do around here to get some Advil? Summon a demon, maybe? Pray to the skies above? Make it rain, and let that rain be aspirin. 

Okay. So we've got Carl shot in one corner of the ring. We've got walkers in the barn in the other, ready to break free and destroy our lives as we know it. This is great. This is going great, I know what I'm doing, and it'll all be fine! Right? Right! Let's go, optimism! 

Shaking my head, I held my hand up again before Maggie could start talking. I think I'm actually developing a seventh sense for when she's going to open her mouth. That, or something about my still-developing sixth sense ability to discern the different pitches of unintelligible grunt Daryl gives is playing a part.