Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

JESUS

ONE WEEK LATER - Kennedy's POV

It had been a week since the walkers breached the walls and Carl was shot. The events of that night still haunted me, the memories playing on a loop in my mind. But now it was time to focus on rebuilding. The RVs had been moved to temporarily block the breach where the watchtower fell, but we needed a more permanent solution.

The construction team, led by Tobin, was already hard at work. They were using the techniques Reg had taught them, and it was clear that his legacy would live on through the strength of our walls. Rick, Daryl, and I joined in, along with the rest of our group and the Alexandrians. Everyone was pitching in, determined to make our home stronger than before.

Rick's voice carried over the sound of hammers and saws, directing people and coordinating efforts. "We need to reinforce the base here. Make sure it's solid before we start building up."

Daryl nodded, his hands already working on securing the foundation. He glanced over at me, his expression serious but focused. "You good over there?" he called out.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. My arms ached from the work, but I pushed through the fatigue. This was important. We needed to make sure this wall would hold, to protect everyone inside.

Tobin was nearby, his gaze fixed on the plans Reg had drawn up. "Reg always said it's about the little things," he said, mostly to himself. "Make sure every piece fits perfectly, and the whole will be strong."

I hammered in another nail, my thoughts drifting to Carl. He was still unconscious, but Denise said he was stable. Rick hadn't left his side for long, but he was here now, helping to rebuild the wall that had failed to protect his son. It was a reminder of the fragile balance we lived in, constantly teetering between safety and chaos.

Glenn and Maggie were working on the other side, their movements synchronized and efficient. "This wall's gonna be stronger than ever," Glenn said, his voice filled with determination. "We owe it to everyone we lost."

Maggie nodded, her eyes focused and intense. "Yeah, we do."

Rick walked over to where Daryl and I were working, his face lined with exhaustion but his eyes burning with resolve. "We need to make sure every inch of this wall is secure," he said. "We can't let what happened last time happen again."

"We won't," Daryl said firmly. "This wall's gonna hold."

I wiped the sweat from my brow, my muscles protesting with every movement. But I couldn't stop. Not yet. The community needed this, needed to see that we could rebuild, that we could be strong again. I glanced over at Daryl, his hands steady and sure as he worked, and felt a surge of gratitude for his unwavering presence.

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky. The wall was slowly taking shape, each section coming together piece by piece. The sounds of construction filled the air, a symphony of rebuilding and resilience. I could feel the determination of everyone around me, a collective effort to reclaim our home and our safety.

Carol was nearby, her movements precise as she secured another section of the wall. She caught my eye and gave a small nod of encouragement. "Almost there," she said. "We're getting there."

I smiled back, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "Yeah, we are."

Rick stepped back to survey the progress, his eyes scanning the wall. "This is good," he said. "Real good. Keep it up."

Daryl finished securing another plank and wiped his hands on his jeans. "This wall's gonna be a damn fortress," he said with a hint of pride.

I looked at the wall, sturdy and solid, and felt a glimmer of hope. We were rebuilding not just our defences but our faith in each other and in our ability to survive. The past week had been a brutal reminder of the world we lived in, but it had also shown us the strength of our community.