Daryl's Angel (Book One in the Apocalypse Angel Trilogy)

Chapter 18: Highway Motorcycle Rides

Another dead end.

If you look at the city, you can still see the giant pillar of black smoke that came from the explosion. We drive a little ways out of downtown Atlanta, stopping to go over the plan.

"We're going to go to Fort Benning," Rick tells us once we've gathered. "We'll need full gas tanks, which means we have to leave some vehicles behind."

"Which ones?" I ask.

"We'll take Carol's Cherokee, the RV, and Daryl's motorcycle. That's all we can handle," Rick says. "Shane, leave the keys in the Jeep. You too Daryl, leave the keys in the truck." The mentioned men nod. "Daryl, Shane, and I are gonna get the gas from the other vehicles. Glenn, Dale, Carol, and Lori, you help transfer things from the Jeep and truck into the Cherokee and RV. Hope and T-dog, you keep watch for any stray walkers. Let's go!"

I take out my knife and climb onto the roof of the RV, prepared to alert the group of any danger. T-dog stays on the ground.

Everyone carries out their given jobs. Gas cans are filled and poured into the RV and Cherokee, bags and essentials are packed, and I get off the roof of the RV after a long wait, seeing no danger.

"No walkers anywhere Rick," I report.

"Good. We'll leave as soon as possible," he says, looking around.

The Jeep and truck have been parked on the side of the road. Daryl unloads Merle's motorcycle from the back of the truck, and I watch his muscular biceps strain as he lifts the heavy bike almost effortlessly and pulls it onto the road. I blush, and he glances over at me. I look away, and he puts the kickstand up before heading over to me.

"You okay about your truck getting left here?" I ask.

"Yeah. It's old, not a huge loss." He shrugs, noticing me staring at the motorcycle. "You ever ridden one?"

"Nope. I always meant to...but I never got to it."

"Damn girl. Looks like you're ridin' with me again." He smirks, shaking his head in disbelief. "Never ridden a motorcycle," he mumbles under his breath.

"Let's move out! We've got a lot of driving to do!" Shane shouts.

Everyone piles into the Cherokee or the RV. Daryl climbs on his bike, glancing back at me.

"You gettin' on or do I have to force ya?" he asks.

I get onto the back of the bike, wrapping my arms around Daryl's waist and leaning my head against his back. I notice that the back of his vest has angel wings on it. I smile, enjoying the visual of Daryl with wings.

Daryl revs the bike, pulling out in front of the caravan. The RV and the Cherokee follow.

We ride full speed out of Atlanta. I hold Daryl tighter as the bike flies across the asphalt. My hair whips around my face, making me grin. The rush is amazing.

We drive for a while, passing countryside as we head down the highway. Eventually, we start slowing down, and I can see the reason ahead of us. The highway is piled up with cars and trucks and vehicles of all kinds belonging to all the people who left Atlanta when the outbreak started. I look away, my heart racing suddenly. Daryl slows down, looping around so he's facing the RV.

"Do you see a way through?" Dale asks from the driver-side window of the RV.

Daryl nods, turning the bike and leading the way again. We inch our way through the mess, passing car after car after car. Some of the vehicles have people still inside them. I swallow and close my eyes, pressing my face into Daryl's back. He tenses at the action, shooting me a glance that's bordering on concern. We keep crawling through traffic when we hear a loud pop followed by a hiss. The front of the RV starts steaming again, and it lurches to a stop.

Daryl stops the bike and I get off, slightly wobbly. I smooth my hair down and walk to the RV with Daryl.

"I think you could find a radiator hose here," Shane is saying as we gather.

Daryl walks over to a nearby car. Its trunk is open and he begins digging around, pulling out various items like clothing. He notices us watching and shrugs.

"We could siphon more fuel from these cars," T-dog suggests. "There's a start."

"This place is a graveyard," Lori says slowly. "I'm not sure how I feel about this."

"We better hurry. Don't want to run into more assholes like this one," Daryl says, pointing to a lone walker.

He raises his crossbow, shooting the walker dead centre between the eyes. He smirks and goes to retrieve his arrow.

I stay quiet, sitting down on the hood of a car. This could have been me. So many of these people ate at the restaurant I worked at or shopped at the department store. They're all dead, and I'm alive.

I just might be the last Atlantan alive.

I rest my face in my hands, breathing hard. What if I see someone I know; a coworker or one of my managers?

Everyone is separating and starting to move among the cars, looking for goods.

"Hope?" Carl asks. "Are you ok? You look sick..."

"I'm fine...just a little hot, that's all," I assure him.

He nods and walks away with Lori, Carol, and Sophia.

"Are you really okay?" Daryl asks from behind me.

I jump a little before turning around. "Um...yeah...I mean-" I stop, taking a deep breath. "No. I'm not ok."

"Did the motorcycle thin' shake you up too much?"

I shake my head. "No. It's...I remember these people leaving. I remember watching them panic and run while I sat alone in a store with no way of getting out. This could have been me."

He tilts his head a little, his eyes softening. "It wasn't you though. You survived, against all odds. Not havin' a car saved your life." Daryl reaches his hand to my chin, tilting my face upwards so that I'm looking at him. "Are you ungrateful for that?"

I swallow, and he keeps watching me, his rough fingers not leaving my skin.

"No. I'm not," I say.

"Good. Help me raid some cars, girl."