Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 3: A New Group

Glenn leads the way down the highway, whooping and hollering as the Challenger roars along, alarm hollering. I'm glad at least one of us is having fun.

Morales lingers between Rick and I, watching the road ahead and gripping our seats to keep himself upright, occasionally giving us curious looks. I'm still waiting for everything to hit me; that I'm out of Atlanta, that I'm with a group of strangers, that if they hadn't been there I would be dead.

I think of Merle, stuck there all alone, and I can't help the guilt that grips my heart.

"Best not to dwell on it," Morales says. I look up at him, but he's looking at Rick. "Merle got left behind. Nobody's gonna be sad that he didn't come back...except maybe Daryl."

"Daryl?" I ask.

"His brother," Morales answers.

Great, there's two of them, I think. If Daryl is anything like his brother, I don't want to spend any time near him.

"Are you sure it's alright that we're coming to your camp?" Rick asks, motioning to me as he says it. "I'm grateful, but—"

"Hey, you saved our asses," Morales says, smiling a bit. "I'm sure the group won't mind. We may just have to move some sleeping arrangements around."

Rick nods in thought and Morales dips into the back. For a moment, I let the silence remain.

"So...you're not their leader?" I ask.

Rick scratches his jaw. "Nah. I met them today, same as you."

I let out a sheepish laugh. "Well, you've definitely won their good graces," I say. I swallow back the urge to self-deprecate, to add in a, "Me? Not so much."

A few more beats of silence.

"You didn't ask for a weapon," Rick says. He glances at me briefly. "I could've given you one."

"Oh, it's okay. I'm...not a huge fan of..." I gesture vaguely in front of me. "I don't know. Violence?"

He smirks a little. "That must be tough to deal with," he muses. "You seemed just fine kicking the walkers away from you earlier. You're lucky you didn't get bit."

I blink a few times. "I guess? I mean, it would suck, but we could always find some bandages and alcohol to clean it up. I could stitch it, maybe, if it was bad enough." I look at him and he's staring at me like I've got a screw loose. "Um...what?"

"You don't know?"

My face flushes with shame. "Know what?"

"If you get bit, or even scratched, you die. That's how you turn," he says. My blood runs cold and Rick's gaze becomes almost sympathetic. "You get a fever that burns right through you, then you come back. You really didn't know?"

"I'm sorry," I say. "I've avoided them at all costs. Today was the longest I've been outside in weeks." I swallow hard and add, softly, "I...don't even know how to kill them."

Rick focuses back on the road, gripping the wheel harder for a second. "I've had the most luck when I hit the head. I think it's the brain that does it."

I wish I could curl up and hide, I feel so stupid.

After a second, he adds, "It's okay. We all have to learn somehow."

It only makes me feel slightly better.

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The rest of the ride is quiet, awkward, and I'm still too embarrassed to try and strike up another conversation with Rick. At the very least, it's nice knowing that I won't be the only newbie in camp. I wish the radio played more than static or that there were any CDs in the truck, because I would really enjoy some music. Long car rides, or even short ones, are better with music.