Stronger - The Walking Dead Fanfiction

Part 1: No Problem

After the governor's attempt to take over the prison, and after his well-deserved death, the survivors split up into small groups. They couldn't have stayed in the burning prison when it had, in fact, been taken over by hundreds of blood thirsty walkers.

The thing is, without the whole group together they have all become weaker.

The pair had taken a break after a long walk in search for shelter.

They were now seated on two logs surrounded by ever lasting haunted nature.

"Aren't you hungry?" Beth asked awkwardly.

There was no response.

"Do you think the others are doing well?" Beth asked. Once again in hope of starting a conversation.

"Hopefully better than us," he said. Swallowing a handful of blueberries he'd collected earlier that morning.

"We don't know how long we'll be together for, this could last longer than we think. I want to get to know you better," she emphasised.

"Me too." He acknowledged.

"After my father's death, I feel like I'm so lost in this world."

"We all feel that way," he barely comforted her.

"I know. You're right. It's just I always thought my dad would outlive me. Yes, I know he was much older, but he was also much stronger than I am." She half-smiled sadly.

Daryl kept silent to show respect. He then got up and grabbed his crossbow to show he was ready to depart into the woods again.

"You know, it's getting late. There's not long left until the sunset," she said softly, "we should find a place to sleep for tonight."

The man nodded in agreement and stepped up his pace, guiding her through the mysterious route.

"This will do for the night." Daryl said looking at the house in front of them.

They both took slow and steady steps onto the deck of the white-painted house.

"Go in front, I'll stay out here and look out for any threats... I mean walkers," she said, spinning him around by his arm, "I'll need the gun you've kept from me."

"Alright," he handed her the gun, kicked the door open and observed the first few rooms of the place. After a couple of minutes, he made his way carefully upstairs.

There was a faded sound of a lake nearby. There was a misleading sound of peace nearby, a sound of a waterfall and possibly a lake, the sound of fresh water running.

Bored, Beth spotted a rocking chair. It covered by a croché coat which seemed to have belonged to an elderly woman in the past.

As she sat down on it, the weak back legs of the chair creaked.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath, hoping the sound wasn't loud enough to attract a walker.

She took a deep reliefed breath at the sight of no walkers after being still and holding her breath for a couple instants.

"That was close," she murmured.

Her thoughts were mistaken, she hadn't been cautious enough. From behind a dry apple tree, an old-looking female walker, who's hair had once been tied in a bun, trudged out towards the deck of the house.

"Oh, she's coming for her freaking rocking chair." She muttered, gazing at the walker.

She got her gun out of her pocket confidently but dropped it on the deck and watched it slipped onto the staircase.

Beth wasn't able to move to get it, she felt as if she had been paralysed by fear. She was face to face with the approaching walker.

"Daryl," she called, still unable to move, "Daryl," she repeated louder.

The sound of her soft weep came straight through the opened windows upstairs. He didn't hesitate, the man ran down the stairs and came to her rescue.

"Get in and lock the door. Go!" He demanded.

She didn't even think twice, her only choice was to obey him.

The walker was now on the deck of the house, reaching out to Daryl with devouring eyes and a slouchy figure.

Unfortunately he had forgotten his crossbow upstairs because he was such in a rush, he didn't even think twice.

He looked around to find anything useful and grabbed the chair with his all his strength and threw it at the walker. It was whipped by the heavy chair and fell off the deck.

Beth peeked out the door and walked past Daryl, she grabbed the gun that had fallen near where the walker had just been thrown.

"I'll finish it off," Beth said, without mercy she pulled the trigger and watch the bullet slice through the walker's weak skull.

"Ugly fucker." He muttered.

"Have respect for the elderly," she joked.

The pair walked back inside and into the kitchen, Daryl in front.

The house looked like no walkers had been in it after the apocalypse, other than dust and spiders, the house was clean and tidy. Nothing seemed, to be out of place.

"Thanks, I didn't know why but I felt so weak when it was so close to me." Beth said, still a little shocked.

"No problem." Daryl said, turning around to face her. He didn't mind helping her, but he wanted her to not rely on him that often.

Expensive antiques were placed all over the house like flower jars and wooden statues.

"Is the house clear?" Beth asked, opening the upper cupboards in the kitchen.

He nodded.

"Have you made sure the windows are shut? And the doors locked? What about the r-"

"I don't need ya to control me. I know what I need and don' need to do." His voice turned cold.

"I was just making sure." She said with a austere tone.

He was about to open his mouth, but chose to remain quiet. He didn't have the energy to argue, it had been a stupendously long day and he was getting dead tired.

The house and it's surroundings fell into silence as the moon took over the sky. Both Daryl and Beth set off to bed early in separate rooms.

They were staring outside the windows for as long as their eyes would allow, gazing at the dim moonlight.