Marching With the Dead (Daryl Dixon FanFiction)

•Chapter 1•

•Chapter 1•

It's been a week since the attack and I haven't gotten any better. The sounds of the gunfire still ring in my ear when I'm minding my own business. The groups dead faces linger in my sight when I'm searching for supplies.

I was trying not to despise my life as a herd of biters marched past me. A rotten smelling corpse lay on top of me to disguise my scent. The biter's feet shuffled in the fallen leaves and twigs with their moans roaring out.

It was difficult to not take in the scent of the body on top of me. Their smell was getting worse as the days went by. I only hoped that this herd would pass by quickly. I watched intensely for the last pair of feet to move by. Soon, a dirty pair of dress shoes trudged away and I threw the corpse off of me knowing that they were gone.

I breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. That was another close call to put on my list. I dusted myself off and grasped the straps of my bag that was slung on my shoulders.

I unsheathed my knife and held it firmly in my grasp. It was lightweight so throwing it would be easier.

Night was overcoming the Sun. I had to find shelter soon or risk my neck for a surprise biter attack. My guess was that it was around sixish and it was going to be dark in about an hour and a half.

I walked to a safe place to stay and only found trees. I thought about setting up my tent, but the herd that passed by made me think twice.

I found a desirable tree and made my way up. I used my knives to stick it in the bark for extra support since the tree didn't give me much to grab onto. My boots gripped the trunk holding me in place. I finally reached a desirable branch and swung my leg over it. I rested my back on the trunk and swung my legs back and forth out of boredom.

I hung my bag on a nearby branch and let out a heavy sigh. I wiped my eyes with the side of my fingers to keep somewhat awake. I let out a huge yawn and stared at the leaves ahead of me.

I didn't think I was going to get much sleep, but surprised myself when my eyelids closed. For the first time in a long time, I was relaxed.

•The Next Morning•

I woke up with a jolt. I had nearly fallen off the thick branch. Sunlight burnt my eyes. I shook my head lightly to get my vision out of the fuzz.

I better get on the move. I grabbed my bag and unsheathed my knives to climb back down. I copied my moves to get up, but only backwards. I jumped down when I thought I was close enough to the ground.

I put one of my knives back in its holster since I only needed one. I keep the extra ones just in case I throw my first and can't get it back.

I stretched out my arms to get the feeling through them so I can move better. Sleep had always been my worst enemy, but it was my best friend. I hadn't gotten much the past few nights since the nightmares of the attack still linger.

I took my first step on my new adventure and I had already regretted leaving my safe spot. I needed food and other supplies. I kept praying that I'd find another group or some sort of safe haven.

My eyelids were growing heavy as I trudged closer to wherever I was going. I would have to find a main road and look for stores down that way. Maybe, there would be a group down there.

I kept my eyes attentive when I realized that I was slacking. I raised my knife and listened closely for any moans.

I then let out a sigh of relief when I saw a brown lump clutching onto a tree. A bushy tail hung from its body and its claws dug into the bark. A squirrel.