Once A Dixon, Always A Dixon (Daryl Dixon)

Taken From Me

Setting: Funeral Home, Season Four

*Daryl's POV*

"Are we close?" Beth asks, my crossbow in her little hands. 

"Almost done," I say. 

"How do you know?" she asks.

"The signs are all there," I say. "Just gotta know how to read 'em."

"What are we tracking?" Beth inquires.

"You tell me," I challenge her. "You're the one that wanted to learn."

Beth observes the ground beneath her feet, "Well, something came through here. The pattern is all zig-zaggy. It's a walker!" She smiles at her achievement. 

"Maybe it's a drunk," I point out. 

"I'm getting good at this," Beth says happily. "Pretty soon I won't need you at all!"

"Yeah, keep on trackin'," I mumble. We enter a clearing where a single walker is enjoying an afternoon snack.

"It's got a gun," Beth notices. I look at the walker's belt and, sure enough, a handgun can be seen. I give her a nod and she enters a hunting stance. She tip-toes towards the walker as quietly as she can. 

There's a clang and Beth falls to the ground. Her foot is caught in a bear trap. The walker advances on her. She shoots an arrow at it, but misses. I take my bow from her and hit the walker with it.

I return to Beth and free her foot from the trap. 

"Can you move it?" I ask.

"Yeah," she whimpers. I wrap my arm around her waist and she puts her's around my shoulders. I help her out of the woods and to another clearing. 

We approach what seems to be a funeral home.

Beth gasps in pain, "Can we.. can we hold up a sec?"

"You alright?" I ask.

"I just need to sit down," she assures me.

"Alright, hold up," I say. I put my crossbow on my chest and bend over slightly. "Hop on."

"Are you serious?" Beth chuckles.

"Yeah, this is a serious piggyback. Jump on," I joke. She does so and I exhale sharply. 

"You're heavier than you look," I grunt. 

"Maybe there are people there," Beth suggests. 

"Yeah, if there are, I'll handle them," I say.

"There are still good people, Daryl," Beth tells me.

"I don't think the good ones survive," I mumble. Beth hops off my back suddenly and looks at one of the tombstones. The tomb belonged to a "beloved father" but didn't have a name. I pick a yellow flower and place it on the headstone. 

Beth laces her fingers in mine and I don't pull away. She gets on my back again and we make our way to the funeral home. I open the front door and bang the doorway. No walkers or people for that matter appear.

We cautiously enter the halls. 

"It's so clean," Beth says in awe.

"Yeah. Someone's been tendin' to it," I mutter. "May still be around." We go into a different room with a casket. Someone put a walker in it and made it look human again. I scratch its cheek, the flesh comes off like paint.

We go into the basement slowly. Two more humanized walkers lay on some tables. 

"Let's get that ankle wrapped," I pull out some gauze from a cabinet. Beth admires the walkers.