[ season 2 ]
✰ in which every corner of the world becomes the world's most loneliest corner, but the girl tucked away on her family's farm would bet all the money in her pockets that hers is the loneliest.
and the guy who meets her up there, bringi...
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CHAPTER TEN ➶ INDIANA WALSH
THERE'S BLOOD caked along the seams of my palms and it won't come off no matter how many times i wipe it against my jeans. i try again, resting the picture frame on my thighs and dragging my hands against the roughness of my levi's.
the car wobbles over uneven ground, all of us moving with it, and glass clanks in the backseat. i turn around, glance at glenn's pack sitting at his feet.
"what all did you guys take?" i ask, let my eyes trail to daryl who's beside me in the driver's seat.
"some amaretto, gin, southern comfort—" glenn rattles off from the backseat.
"the whole top-shelf." maggie adds, teasing.
"i'm tired of your dad's stash of whiskey and indiana's beers."
"hey!" i turn around at glenn's whispering, but daryl chuckles, nudges me in the shoulder.
i look down at the framed photo in my lap again, try to ignore the tightness of my skin from the blood of the dead on me. walkers—there were a few we had to face on our run into town this afternoon. gunshots only draw more in so unless it's dire, we use knives. not kitchen knives, though, daryl made sure of that awhile ago.
i see him look at the picture i'm holding out of the corner of his eye. as a last stop on our run for supplies, we hit up hatlin's. i knew the bar and grille wouldn't have toiletries or clothes, all the things we went out looking for, but we'd already found enough for the day and i wanted something different.
along the wood pillars inside hatlin's, nailed to the wall are framed photos of frequent customers, times where two tables were pushed together to celebrate a birthday, photos of the live-bands that played there throughout the years. one of the frames holds a small photo of my mom and dad from when they were dating.
we have plenty of photos of her at home, but not this one, the one i hold in my hands now as we near the fields of hershel's farm. this picture of my parents didn't deserve to collect dust in that restaurant, for the edges of the film to yellow. so i took it.
"glenn, you still got that camera you found?" daryl asks, eyes darting up to the rearview mirror.
"the polaroid? yeah, it's at maggie's."
"you guys wanna come back over in about an hour? beth and jimmy will probably join us." maggie says as the car begins to slow.
"yeah, sure."
"we'll help you unload this stuff first." daryl drawls, putting the car in park. one by one we step out, stretch our legs under the setting sun that's whisked out of the sky, leaving indigo and midnight purple clouds in its wake.
t-dog and andrea run to help us, grabbing bags and boxes out of the backseats and trunk. it's the end of summer now, fall around the corner and although the georgia heat will last us awhile longer, we don't want to be blindsided by the cold and lack of supplies, unable to go out for the things we desperately need. so we're doing it now, these few runs daryl, glenn, maggie, and i have opted to take.
