Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 61: Moonshine

They spend a long night holed up in the trunk of a car.

Daryl stares out the tiny gap of moonlight that spills in, crossbow ready as rain pounds against the metal above their heads, the snarling of walkers surrounding them as a herd moves through. In the morning, when the storm and the herd have passed, they emerge, stiff and tired. The air smells like petrichor.

They gather trash from the car in silence—hubcaps, glass from the shattered headlights, anything they can use to put up around the border of their campsite when they stop for the night. Noisemakers will alert them to walkers who enter the camp's border, waking them if they both fall asleep.

Daryl hunts, but he breaks an arrow trying to shoot a damn squirrel. He stares at the splintered wood and grimaces, bending it in half before ripping it apart. He can't keep breaking arrows on a mouthful of meat.

Thankfully, everything isn't complete shit, and he tracks down a snake not too long after. He pins it down with a forked stick, giving him enough time to stab it. He returns to camp with it dangling over his shoulder like a scarf.

Beth has already started a fire and strung up their noisemakers. He gets to work on readying their meal, skinning and cleaning the snake before cooking it over the fire. Beth's nose seems forever wrinkled. Whenever he looks at her, she's got a look of disgust clear on her face.

But, the snake tastes good all cooked up, and Daryl digs in while Beth picks at her morsel nearby, pulling tiny bits off with her fingers.

"I need a drink," she says.

Daryl doesn't look up from his snake. He wordlessly reaches for one of their water bottles, tossing it to her.

"No, I mean a real drink," she says. "As in alcohol."

Daryl keeps eating.

"I've never had one," she continues. "Cause of my dad, but he's not exactly around anymore, so..."

Great, he thinks. The first thing she wants to do after her formally alcoholic father dies is go and get some booze. She really has her priorities straight.

"I thought we could go find some."

He isn't touching that. With where they are, you need to be alert. Getting drunk when you don't have solid walls to hide behind is the worst thing they could do right now, and he's sure she's smart enough to realize that. Maybe he'd go for it if he was many years younger.

"Oh-kay," she sighs, her voice tinged with that teenage attitude again. "Well, enjoy your snake jerky."

She gets up, grabbing her knife and walking off into the woods. Daryl finishes his snake, licking his lips as he gets to his feet. He licks his fingers off, grabs his bow, and heads off to stop her from getting killed. He's getting real tired of this game they're playing—she runs off with some idea in her head and he's forced to follow if he doesn't want to see her join the rest of their group.

He finds her with her back against a tree, a few walkers just stumbling past, and she at least has the decency to look slightly embarrassed. He turns, jerking his chin, and she perks up as she follows him.

Scratch that, she isn't embarrassed at all.

"I think we've made it a way," she says as they head through the woods. "I'm pretty sure we gotta go that way to find the booze."

He steps over the hubcap chain bordering their camp, but she runs right into it. He sighs as she gasps, the caps clanging together as they tangle around her legs. She steps back.

"What the hell? You brought me back?" she demands. "I'm not staying in this suck-ass camp!"

She flips him off, starting to turn away, but he grabs her wrist and yanks her back. "Hey!" he snaps. "You had your fun."