My Redneck Savior || D. D.

Angry Redneck || 3

Alex's Point of View

It's been about a week since I had decided to go with Daryl. Since then I really haven't learned a lot about him besides the fact that he was not an open book. That kind of disappoints me a bit because I was hoping to become friends or something with him. All of my friends and family were gone or missing now and I haven't been in contact with another living life form for a couple of months. And sometimes it just gets lonely.

"Where are we going?" I ask Daryl as we cruise along the back roads.

"I was hopin' to find my group. Got split up weeks ago," he replied over the not so quite hum of his vehicle.

"Do you think they moved on?"

We take a turn onto a street that looked pretty intact. "No. They wouldn't do that." I stare blankly at the neighborhood, lost deep in my own mind. Who is Rick? Is he the group leader? Will he allow me to join their group? I was caught in a overwhelming cloud of questions so instead of letting my mind turn to mush I try to focus on the neighborhood. Sprawled across the landscape are large colonial houses, all completed with different assortments of brick, tall trees and untamed bushes on almost every property, and family vehicles parked in the small driveways. This place could of homed family's similar to what mine once was, completed and happy. Without my permission a  single tear slipped down my face. It could have been from the sympathy I had for these family's or from me mourning my own. My hand wiped away the glob of water, leaving only my damp skin behind. I didn't want Daryl to see me cry, it would prove I am weak and not fit to go with him. Little did I know that he, the strongest person I have met to this day, was watching me sob in his rear view mirrors. "Stop yer' cryin'," he growls.

"What?" I say, obviously stunned by his sudden burst of words.

"Ye' heard me. Stop cryin'." I couldn't believe what he was telling me. If I want to cry I should have the right to do so. I mean I didn't want to in the first place, but it was none of his business. Out of pure anger I screamed at the top of my lungs at him.

"Excuse me for feeling sad for all of the f@$&#& dead families! And I'm not feeling to great about losing mine either!" He comes to a halt and I start to feel guilty and like I had just entered the cloud of questions once more. Oh my god. I didn't mean to do that. I-I-I was just a little angry that's all. Is he going to make me fend for myself? Is he going to hurt me? Daryl hops off his bike and turns to look at me. Those eyes of his are looking into my soul as he speaks.

"Ye' know what! I could leave your sorry a@& here in the middle of the f@&$#& street!" He yells using all of his breath. A few walkers emerge from the backyards of the houses and from the surrounding woods.

"I-I-I didn't mean it, Daryl. I was just a little angry. Just calm down, please."

"Me? Calm down? Ye're the one who is on the back of my bike! Going off like a freakin' idiot, hollerin' and screamin' when ye' don't know if there's walkers near by!" More walkers start to show themselves and are heading our way.

"Daryl!" I whisper yell, not wanting to attract more attention. The rage in his eyes starts to diminish as he also hears the groans of the undead.

"S$&@." As he realizes the sudden danger of the situation he rolls his motorcycle behind a bush and grabs his crossbow and my hand, running as fast as he can towards a house. A couple stray walkers are in front of the house so the both of us start to take them down. I use my knife for most of it, but a scrawny one comes only mere inches away from my face so I take my .36 caliber revolver out of my holster and aimed it towards its head. I pull the trigger and blood splatters all over my Beatles shirt and my face. "Don't get the blood in yer' eyes or mouth," Daryl informs me while I make my way up the small set of stairs to the porch. He unsuccessfully tries to knock the door in. "It ain't gonna budge." I quickly try to find a way in before seeing a doggy door.

"There." I point to the small flap. Daryl looks at me, then back at the door.

"Fine. Just holler if ye' need any help in there." Swiftly I climb through the small opening and check the main room for anything. It was clear. The yelling and groans from the other side of the door reminded me of the task at hand. I played with the brass door knob and locks to try to open it when I hear a loud thud. This only encouraged me to work faster and when I finally found out how to unlock it I was greeted with a heart wrenching sight. There in front of my very eyes on the porch was a passed out Daryl. Using all my strength I drag him inside onto the laminated floor. I sit beside him and check for any sign of bites or scratches.

"Come on Daryl! You can't leave me alone. I need you, you're my only hope of survival," I whimper, worried out of my mind if Daryl would regain consciousness or not.

Okay, that was the third chapter of My Redneck Savior and I decided to end it on a cliffhanger. I would just like to say that I am sorry if there are any typos or mistakes. I'm not the greatest at writing, but I do enjoy making chapters here and there. Don't forget to comment, vote, and share with others.

@ObsessedwithWalkers