A Broken World

Seventy-Eight

We kept walking until neither of us could hear gunfire anymore.

Neither of us spoke.

There wasn't anything to say.

The woods were quiet except for our boots crunching over leaves and the occasional walker somewhere off in the distance. My legs felt like they were moving on their own.

Daryl finally stopped.

"We're far enough," he said.

I looked around.

Trees.

More trees.

No road. No houses. No people.

Just woods.

I leaned against a tree and slid down until I was sitting on the ground. My hands were shaking now that we weren't running anymore.

Daryl stayed standing for another few seconds, watching the trees around us. Then he finally lowered his crossbow.

"They ain't followed us."

I nodded.

"Think Rick made it?"

"I don't know."

"Maggie?"

"I don't know."

"Hershel..."

I couldn't finish the sentence.

Daryl looked down at the ground.

"I know."

Silence settled between us again.

After a minute he walked over and sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched.

Neither of us moved away.

"I keep thinkin'..." I said quietly.

"'Bout what?"

"We left him."

Daryl stared ahead.

"We didn't have a choice."

"It doesn't feel like that."

"No." He shook his head. "It don't."

I closed my eyes.

"I should've stayed."

He turned toward me immediately.

"No."

"I could've helped."

"You would've died."

"I don't know that."

"I do."

His voice wasn't loud.

It was firm.

"If you'd stayed..." He swallowed. "You'd be in that prison right now."

"I know."

He rubbed a hand over his face.

"Hershel made his choice."

"It shouldn't have been his."

"No." He looked at me. "But it was."

Neither of us said anything after that.

There wasn't a way to make it better.

---

An hour later we started moving again.

We stayed off the road.

Every now and then Daryl would stop, crouch, and study the ground before changing direction.