Daryl, My Artificial Boyfriend (A Daryl Dixon Fanfic)

Chapter 3: Waiting Time

DARYL, MY ARTIFICIAL BOYFRIEND

A WALKING DEAD Fanfiction

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Previously: Emyli recalled how she decided to get an android lover. It was because of Lea, who accidentally tripped off all of their co-workers' zombie replicas leading to Emyli meeting Lea's android Lover, Glenn and Andrew who, after walking Emyli home, teased her about going to the ball alone. That night, Emyli ordered an artificial boyfriend model Glenn Rhee.

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Chapter 3: Waiting Time

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I heard from them before that the hardest part was the waiting time. If that was true, then I was in no trouble for I was patient. I could wait.

The website said it will take around three weeks before they could ship Glenn and three days for him to arrive—just in time for the ball happening a month from now. I didn't tell anyone about the purchase, not even Kate. I went to work and sewed costumes and ball gowns and suits just like the usual and went home, drew and sewed some more.

I was working on Glenn's white tuxedo for the ball. I have always thought a guy in white formal attire looks like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Like a wild beast prodding inside an angel's garb creating an illusion of a gentler and subdued man. But with Glenn…I thought him in a white tuxedo would be about speaking the truth of his kindness and innocence.

A week after I placed my order, I started watching The Walking Dead on my e-Canvass. It was like deja vu when I saw the half-eaten zombie Hanna. It was then that I discovered Daryl's connection with the squirrels and why an Ed android lover model should have been banned. And then learning that Glenn was not only nice but also smart and brave justified my purchase and for the first time, I felt a little impatient for his arrival.

Now I sit in front of my e-Canvass placed horizontally on the easel watching The Walking Dead Season 2, Episode 5. Yeah, I know I'm a slow watcher. With just two days before Glenn is shipped, I'm watching Daryl look for Sophia.

Everything is dark outside our house and the black clouds grumble and stir. Dad is away on a hunting trip while Kate is with her group mates finishing a school project. When Daryl falls from the ravine around midnight, it's already raining cats and dogs. After a few minutes I pause the show and stand up. There are stirring sounds from the backyard. As a girl who assists her dad with hunting, my ears can pick up sounds of footsteps and rustling leaves. I can imagine the muddy path from the woods leading to our backdoor and how the noise will sound if someone is walking on it. And right now, there's definitely someone dragging himself towards our house.

I am going to my dad's room to get his old-fashioned shotgun but the noise is getting nearer so I settled with the kitchen knife I found on the counter. I walk toward the door and the rasping behind it begins. I reach for my phone from my pocket to call the police but the faint voice from outside the door stops me.

"Sophia…" it softly calls.

Am I losing too much sleep because of sewing and watching? No. I'm sure of what I am hearing and somehow, I refuse to believe it's just a co-incidence. I go for the door, not losing my grip on the knife. Whoever's behind it is now banging the door with his fists. I turn the knob and pull the door open.

We stare at each other: me with a knife raised and him with an arrow not on his crossbow but held in his hand aiming at me.

When Daryl sees me, a small and seemingly weak girl, his defences go down and his eyes roll in its socket in fatigue; then they close and his body fall forward.

Daryl Dixon all wet and muddy lands on top of me. My back hurts and his weight is pinning me immobile. His chest is on my face, making it hard for me to breathe. I let go of the knife and place my hands on his muscled arms and try to push him off me.

His body rolls; his back meets the floor. Shaking, I stand up and close the door to prevent the strong wind and pouring rain from making further mess of the house. Then I stare at the redneck, motionless and unconscious.

So, humor me: I have heard of early deliveries before: unexpected packages arriving ahead of time. But I assume the merchandise to still be inside their boxes; new and undamaged. This Daryl is a complete wreck. I think there's blood coming from his side.

And besides, I fucking ordered a Glenn Rhee, not another squirrel-hunting, ill-tempered, scruffy Daryl Dixon.

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Next Chapter: Daryl is given the house rules.