The Devils Eyes •Daryl Dixon•

N I N E : G O N E

"Dale knew how to get under your skin," I stared at Dale's grave. "Hell, he sure got under mine," Rick continued.

My eyes dart up to him.

"Because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought, how he felt. That kind of honesty is rare...and brave."

I sighed and closed my eyes for a second.

"Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look over at Dale. He'd be there, looking at me with that look. We've all seen it at one time or another," Rick looked down at the patch of freshly disturbed dirt. "I couldn't always read him, but he could read us, the truth, who we really are. In the end, he was talking about losing our humanity."

"He said this group was broken, the best way to honor him is to unbreak it, set aside our differences and pull together, stop feeling sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives, our safety. Our future. We're not broke, we're gonna prove him wrong. From now on, we're gonna do it his way, that is how we honor Dale."

<>

I set a box down in Hershels' living room as he had invited us to stay in his home. I stepped out and spotted Daryl rummaging through boxes.

"What's wrong?" I walked along the porch.

"Ma gun, it's gone. Have ye seen it?"

"No, but I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Well, it'll be tight, fourteen people in a house," my eyes flew to Rick and Hershel walking up the steps.

"Don't worry, with the creek drying up, should've moved you guy in a while ago," Herschel said.

"Plus with fifty cattle heads, might as well be ringing a damn dinner bell," Maggie added.

"She's right."

I walked down to T-Dog's truck and took a box containing Lori's studd and spotted her making room inside.

"This where you're sleeping?"

"No, this is for Carol," she looked up at me. "I'm sleeping over there," she pointed to a spot next to a pile of Carl's items.

I walked to the spot and set it down.

"Can you go find Carl for me?" Lori looked back at me.

"Sure."

What the hell am I, his mother?

I spotted him under a tree, fiddling with something in his hands.

"What're you doing bud?" I approached him.

His eyes flew to me and he quickly hid the item in his pocket, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Hey Clem?"

"Yeah?"

"If um... if I tell you something, will you promise not to... tell my parents?"

"Come on kid, probably not a good idea," I sighed as I sat next to him.

He nodded and got up, starting to walk away.

"Hey Carl," he slowly turned to me. "Hit me."

He looked around before pulling out a gun. My eyes widened and grabbed it.

"I grabbed it from Daryl's motorcycle, if he finds out I took it, he'll kill me."

"What're you doing with this anyways?"

"Dale," he kicked the dirt. "It's my fault he's dead."

"What? That's not true, he got bit by a muerto."