Angel

Chapter Four: Jessie

Night had fallen, and the old shack was lit by the flickering light of a single flame. I had found a few partially burned candles in the kitchen so we had one burning now or we would be in complete darkness. Neither Daryl nor I were saying much, and there was a slightly uneasy silence in the room. We were essentially two strangers thrown together by circumstance. Oddly enough, we were both loners, and we didn't seem to mind each other company. At least I didn't mind his.

Even though he was banged up pretty bad, I could tell Daryl was a survivor. People that had grown up hunting and fishing had a leg up on those of us never did. That was the only way to get fresh meat these days, and a diet of canned food got boring very quickly. And eventually we'd run out of food like that, and the only way to eat would be to grow it or hunt it. I could probably grow vegetables, but I sucked at hunting. Plus, I always ended up wasting bullets. A bow was a much better option.

I watched in the darkness as Daryl went over each piece of his crossbow checking and double checking it. The thing was heavy as hell, and I automatically knew his strong shoulders, and muscular arms came from using that weapon. They weren't the only parts of Daryl that attracted me.

Ever since I was old enough to appreciate the difference between boys and girls, I always went for the guy that was bad news. Even in suburban Maryland, I managed to find the boys that you should never take home to Mom and Dad. I knew Daryl was one of those boys, except all these years later my boys had turned into men. I especially loved the longer hair, even though I wished his bangs wouldn't cover up his battered face so much.

His swollen eye and bruised face held a promise of what lay underneath. Without a doubt, I knew that when he healed, he'd knock my socks off, but not in that classic movie star way. It was the entire package that I was learning that made up Daryl that had me thinking about doing things with him that until recently had me running from men. I knew that Daryl was not that way. He was gruff and stern, yet kind. He could probably kill a man without thinking twice, but I'd bet my life, and I kinda was, that he would never hurt a woman.

I was dying to know more about him.

"Hey, Daryl?"

"What?" he responded finally putting the crossbow down. He was sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, and I was on the hard wooden chair by the table.

"How did you end up alone camping by yourself? Did you ever have a group?" I asked him.

Even though it was dark, I saw him stiffen, before he slowly relaxed. I knew there was a sad story there that I wanted to hear.

After a long minute, he said softly. "Yeah, there was a group. They're gone now...I think."

"You don't know for sure? Were you with them long?"

Daryl pulled up a knee close to his chest and rested a hand on it. "Since the beginning."

Wait, did he say since the beginning? Groups never lasted that long. He definitely needed to tell me his story. I was completely intrigued already. "Wow, that long? I've never heard of that happening. Tell me your story, Daryl. I want to know."

He didn't answer me for a long minute. "I'll tell ya, but give me yours first."

I figured he ask about me, so who went first didn't really matter. If he wanted me to, that was no big deal, but I wasn't going to tell it to him when he was across the room. "Sure," I told him. "It's nothing special, but all we have is time right now, right?"

He bobbed his head agreeing with me. I had noticed early on, which was either yesterday or the day before, that he was a man of few words. That's another reason I was looking forward to hearing him tell me about his life. I really liked that raspy voice he had, and I was truly curious about what made well Daryl...Daryl. Our past experiences, the people in our lives, and this crazy world we all now survived in made us who we are now. Who we were before, didn't matter. Those people no longer existed. We had all changed whether we wanted to or not.