Last One Standing ~ TWD Daryl Dixon

15

Jo

I didn't sleep long, maybe an hour, but it felt like I had slept all night. I couldn't remember the last time I slept even that long. It was only a little after dawn when I heard the click of the door opening. My eyes snapped open and I was instantly alert. My heart thudded in my ears as I rolled onto my feet and dropped into a crouch. My hand slid down to rest on the handle of my knife.

The door swung open slowly, as though the intruder were trying to be quiet. I tensed and waited to see who is was. Part of my brain did realize the chances of it being an actual intruder were pretty slim but it wasn't that part that was in control right now.

I breathed out a sigh when I saw it was only Carol coming in from being on watch. I straightened slowly, watching her movements carefully making sure there was no threat. But she only laid her gun down on one of the tables and began moving around the small mess area getting breakfast ready.

I stepped out of the cage and approached. "Morning," I greeted.

She flinched as though she hadn't heard me and whipped around.

My body gave an involuntary jerk from her quick movement.

Stop, reset. And I was in control again. "I'm sorry," I said, forcing a small apologetic smile on my face.

Carol gave me a tight lipped smile. "You're very quiet," she observed. She ran her gaze up and down me and her eyes stopped on my shirt. I crossed my arms uncomfortably. If she and Daryl
were together I shouldn't still be wearing his clothes. I needed to go out and scavenge some of my own.

I nodded at her words though and sat down at one of the tables. She glanced at me thoughtfully for a few moments. "You didn't get much sleep." I could practically see the gears turning. This was not the same terrified house wife I met in Atlanta.

I shook my head. "I don't." The words were so simple and hid so much.

The door to the cell block clicked open and an old man with white hair limped out on crutches. One of his feet had been amputated above the ankle. He leaned heavily on crutches and my brain immediately filed him away as not being a threat. The jury was still out with Carol. She was not the woman I knew before and there was something about the calculating way she watched me that made me wary.

"Hello dear," the man greeted. He swung himself through his crutches towards me. He stopped, pinning the right crutch to his side so he could hold out his hand. "My name is Hershel. I have heard so much about you."

I arched a brow at Carol who shrugged. I was a little nervous what all he had heard. I clasped Hershel's hand. He shook it gently and gave it a warm squeeze. "You met my oldest daughter Maggie I believe and I have another, Bethy." Oh, great. He heard all about me from Maggie, who I almost attacked because I was caught up in my brain too much to realize she was trying to help me. "I have medical experience if you need anything." He said in a gentle voice. "I realize you have been through a terrible experience. But we are very happy to have you with us."

I nodded along but the whole experience was surreal for me. It was like I had run into him at a coffee shop or outside his church. This sweet old man could not have survived like this for this long in the world. Not now. His blue eyes were warm and genuine and I felt my chest constrict.

Deeper in the cell block a baby started to cry and more people were stirring.

It was like a vise clamped around my throat and I needed to get out of here. I quickly glanced back at Carol, trying desperately to keep my expression calm. "Do you need someone on watch?"