Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 7: Rest in Peace, Angel

"Hey, wake up."

I stir, blinking awake slowly as the grip of sleep loosens. Daryl stands above me, already dressed, hair still mussed from sleep. I try not to stare but, hey, he's the nicest view I've woken up to in a while.

"You know you talk in your sleep?" he asks.

I groan and resist mashing my face into my pillow. "Oh, no...I'm sorry. If I said anything—"

"Pssh, it was just mumbling. Keep your panties on," he says. "Get up. There's lots of work to do."

He heads out of the tent and I sit up, stretching and sighing. I get dressed, comb my hair, and brush my teeth. I grab the empty can I intended to replace Merle's chew can with and spit the extra toothpaste into it, setting it aside.

Feeling fresh and presentable, I head out and back towards the main part of camp. Andrea is still huddled over Amy's body, unmoved from where we left her last night. Lori, Carol, and Shane stand watch over her. Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog are hard at work, smashing walker heads and dragging bodies to the bonfire near the RV.

"Hope!" Glenn calls. He jogs up to me, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "There's lots to do. If you can start...destroying some brains, we can take care of the dragging part."

My stomach twists, but I nod. "Sure." Glenn starts to turn, but I stop him. "Wait, Glenn, one thing...I don't have a weapon."

"You...oh. Shoot," Glenn says, eyes wide. "Sure, let's...um...maybe we can get you a pistol and—"

"No guns, please," I say. I raise my hands a little in defense. "I'm...not super comfy with them, but a knife will do."

I'm glad Glenn doesn't push it, although he seems a little shocked. "Sure, yeah, I can figure that out. Hold tight."

He heads off and I linger, patting my thighs. Daryl passes me with a pickaxe in hand, stopping when he sees me.

"We could use help," he says, a slight bite in his tone.

"Glenn's trying to find me a knife," I explain. "I don't have a weapon."

"You could'a said something sooner," he says. He reaches into his belt, pulling out a knife and flipping it around so that the handle faces me with the blade between his fingers. "Here, use this."

It's a simple hunting knife, sturdy, and I thank him again as I take it. He nods once before getting back to work. I approach my first body, grimacing as I stare at their half-eaten face. I kneel, aiming the knife at the centre of their forehead, and close my eyes as I push it in.

I pull it out, whisper an apology and a small prayer, then move on. I didn't puke, so that's a win. I do the next, then the next, and the next, and it gets a little easier with each one, but in the same way that handling your period gets easier. You're never excited about it but at least you know what to do.

Glenn returns, catching up to me. "Hey, so, it looks like there isn't..." He trails off, noting the blade in my hand. "Oh, you found one?"

"It's Daryl's. We can find another one later, right?"

"Right. Good."

He heads off again. Daryl comes up to me as I finish up another head, squatting by the ankles.

"Here, grab it under the shoulders."

We haul it to the fire and toss it in. Daryl shoulders his pickaxe as we both turn back to the main firepit. The discussion has expanded. Rick and Dale are there now, all their words centered around how to handle Andrea and her delicate situation.