Unglued (Desus)

Chapter Two

Paul woke up early the next morning.

He sat up in bed, and stretched. His joints popped and he let out a small groan. Somehow, he had managed to forget about the crazy activities of the previous night, and had ended up falling asleep.

He warily got up and opened the blinds. The sight that greeted him made him shudder. People were running, screaming, crying, as the dead bit into their flesh. Had the disease really spread so quickly? How had he slept through the noise?

He should be used to the sight by now though, shouldn't he? The sight of people dying, that is. After all, he had spent almost eight years in this messed up world. But really, how do you ever get used to seeing innocent people dying?

He sighed. Maybe instead of wasting his time with Daryl, he should have talked to a Psychologist.

He scoffed at the thought. And what would he have said?

"Hello. I am from the future, where zombies thrive. Also, there's a voice that's been talking to me."

Right. That would have gone over well.

He was ready to give up. Twelve weeks. In twelve weeks he'd be as good as dead. There was no way he'd be able to convince Daryl. He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his long hair.

He still had to try. It was time to put his second plan in action.

******

Paul crept quietly behind Daryl, watching him in fascination. He had to decided to follow the older man, until he could come up with a better idea, at least.

Daryl was muttering to himself, and swinging his crossbow around. He was stomping through the woods, carrying a backpack.

Paul wondered where he was going. Now that Daryl had seen the walkers up close himself, he had left home, obviously on the run. But to where? Where did Daryl think would be safe?

There were radio stations broadcasting military safe zones, but Paul knew that was shit. Where there were large groups of people, the infection would only spread faster. He wondered if Daryl knew that, because he was not heading in the direction of a safe zone. In fact, he seemed pretty content just walking on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere.

An RV pulled up next to Daryl, stopping. Paul watched with curiosity. An older man stepped out of the RV.

Daryl raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Hello there! My name is Dale. Me and a few people are heading up towards the mountains. You want us to give you a ride?"

Daryl glared at the white haired man.

"Nah. I'm fine walkin." He grunted.

Dale shook his head.

"Now come on. It will be much quicker if we just give you a lift. I insist. "

Daryl sighed, clearly tired and annoyed.

"Fine..." he muttered, climbing into the RV.

Dale smiled a giant smile.

"Excellent!"

Paul groaned as he watched the RV start to drive away. How on Earth was he going to keep track of Daryl now?

He stumbled out of the woods so he could walk on the paved road. He was free to walk on the road now, since Daryl could no longer catch him.

He figured he had a long walk ahead of him. Not that he wasn't used to it, of course.