Till Death Do Us Part: A Daryl Dixon Story (The Walking Dead)

2

I sat at the candle lit table, waiting for supper to be dished. Things were quiet again. I'd already been filled in on the gory details of what was now reality. I took it well, I suppose. But from the moment I stepped out that hospital, I knew something had happened. Something irreversible had swept the Earth. I was a pessimist like that. I tried explaining to Morgan over and over that Rick gotten shot and it was not a bite wound, but still he'd insisted on tying him up. They told me about how if you get bitten by those things -the dead- you'd start burning up, die and then come back as one of them. The thought sent shivers down my spine. They said the military, the government, everything had gotten overrun. Morgan was pretty sure there was no rescue team out there anymore. I gulped when he said those words; we were on our own. Morgan didn't sugar coat anything. I only passed out for a couple of seconds at Rick's house. They'd taken me back home with them, which was conveniently next door. As soon as I'd gotten some food and water, they'd filled me in. It was shocking to say the least. The thought of my mom and sister in Pennsylvania possibly being like one of the living dead or just plain dead was nauseating. How many people had been lost already? My thoughts flickered over to my husband. I knew he'd still be alive. He was tough as nails. He was raised rather harshly. I hadn't a doubt in my mind about him being alive. Well, technically he wasn't my husband anymore. The last thing I remember before waking up in my hospital bed was being on the verge of leaving and filing for divorce. We'd only been married four months, but it was enough. Another upsetting thought was why he didn't come for me in the hospital. My thoughts were interrupted when Rick stumbled out of the room. He was still just as weak and fragile as me. He wore a blanket over his boxer shorts as he walked through were the beds were set. I watched him impassively.

'This place,' Rick said. 'Fred and Cindy Drake's?'

'Never met 'em.' Morgan said with a shake of his head.

'I've been here. This is their place.' Rick insisted.

'It was empty when we got here.' Morgan said.

Rick was about to peep through the covered windows before Morgan stopped him.

'Don't do that,' Morgan warned. 'They'll see the light. There's more of them out there than usual. I never should've fired that gun today.' Morgan said as he turned to the dining table.

'Sound draws 'em, now they all over the street.' Morgan moved a pot to smaller table. 'Stupid -using a gun.' He muttered. 'It all happened so fast. I didn't think.' Morgan concluded as he sat down.

Rick looked over at me cautiously. 'You shot that man today.' Rick told Morgan.

'Man?' Morgan asked, almost amused.

'It weren't no man.' Duane said, sounding offended. My eyes flickered back and forth as the three of them conversed. As our meal consisting of beans went on, Morgan and Duane took turns explaining to Rick what was happening. They found it very hard to believe that Rick and I survived through our coma. I was pretty sure if we didn't wake up in another day or two we would've just passed on. After dinner, the candles were blown out. I kept mine alight and wandered upstairs. Morgan said there was a small collection of books upstairs. I lightly enjoyed reading before all this so I thought I might as well continue my hobby. I awkwardly limped and hopped up the flight of stairs. By the time I reached the top, I was out of breath and the pain in my ribs came back. I almost began to dry heave again, but I sank to the ground and caught my breath. I recovered quickly, becoming numb to the pain. It crossed my mind that my injuries had to be a lot worse than Rick's gunshot wound for me to be feeling like this. I found the books in the first bedroom I came across. The mattress and bedding had been stripped -it was set up downstairs. I scanned through the books for quite a while. Somewhere along the line I heard a car alarm go off, but thought nothing of it. Morgan insisted that if we stayed quiet we'd be safe. The books were mostly classics. I wasn't very fond of classics. I smiled as I saw the Harry Potter collection. I loved reading Harry Potter, as weird as it was for a grown woman. I scolded myself for never seeing the movies, realising that now I'd probably never get the opportunity. I took Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and made the painful journey back downstairs. I came down to quite a scene. Duane was sobbing softly into a pillow in his father's lap. Both Rick and Morgan were looking at the rattling doorknob. I was smart enough not to ask any questions. So I just quietly made my way and sat down on the mattress next to Rick. He had to shuffle over a bit to make room for me.