Knife Edge [Daryl Dixon]

Chapter Four - Beginnings (2/2)

     Daryl stood with Rick on the sidewalk across the road from Sarah's base as the sun dipped behind the trees. 

The house was a small detached brick bungalow, in a long line of small detached brick bungalows. Most of the front doors hung off their hinges, and all manner of crap was strewn across their overgrown front yards into the street. Bags of trash, mashed cardboard boxes,  broken luggage that spilled clothes onto the grass.

When Sarah had told Rick to pull over, he asked if she was sure this was the right road, but she didn't hesitate. She got out of the car, went to a mail box and came back with a key, 'That was me. I made the streets around my bases look like they'd been picked over.'  

Her base was two bedrooms at the back of a house, and while there was a front door, and it was locked, a couple of windows were broken and the curtains hung outside, dirty and torn. He might have driven past it a hundred times and not known it was there.

Rick stepped over the body of a decapitated walker, a man whose face had been chewed to the bone. Michonne took him down during their first sweep. 

He wiped some dirt off the window of a long abandoned car and peered into the backseat, 'You know that other cars being at the hut means not only is this a group, but the others knew what was happening there?'

Daryl knew alright, 'Mm mm.'

'We need to find them,' Rick said trying the car door. It didn't budge. 'We can't send people on long runs if there's a chance they might run into them. That'll limit the amount of supplies we can bring in.'

Daryl had thought about that too, 'We can do the longer runs for now. Look for them and get supplies at the same time.' 

He stretched his aching back. Long runs, and looking for the group that attacked Sarah. They might bring in some new people while they were at it. 

There was something in that he hadn't considered before, 'The new guy, George. His group was attacked by another. Wiped out.'

Rick forgot the car, 'Where was that?'

Daryl shrugged, 'Tara and Rosita might know. They brought him in.'

Rick strode past him, heading for the house, 'Let's ask them.'

They passed Aaron who was keeping watch at the back door and went into the corridor that ran between the two bedrooms. A door at the other end of the corridor was barricaded with furniture, cutting off the base from the rest of the house. 

Everyone was in one bedroom. Rosita was sitting on the bed raking through a box of guns that Sarah collected scavenging. Guns with no ammo, and ammo with no guns. She had no luck at all.

Tara was opening cans at a kitchen table in the corner of the room, while Sarah sat beside her oiling the knives she found at the clearing.

Rick didn't wait. He called, 'Tara, Rosita,' and went into the bedroom across the hall but when they followed him through, Michonne left the window where she was watching the backyard and went too. 

Sarah watched them go, one after the other, a frown began to gather. 

Daryl rifled through the cans on the table, seized an open can of spaghetti and dropped heavily onto the chair Tara had left. It was still warm.

He dug a spoon into the thick red sauce and stirred. Over Sarah's shoulder, Rick and the others shared hurried whispers before Michonne disappeared from sight briefly. When she came back, she shook out a map and laid it on the bed.

To distract Sarah, he waved his spoon at the knife in her hand, 'They were your Dad's?' 

She nodded, 'He was in the army. When we were growing up he taught me and Scotty to fight. I didn't keep it up when I got older, but when this all started, I still had his knives.' She gave him a smile but it was empty, 'You can imagine how much more attention I wish I'd paid now.'