Lilly Watkins has always been the strong one compared to her twin. That doesn't change when the dead start walking. Taking care of her family during the apocalypse, she never relied on anyone else. When she meets Daryl Dixon, a more temperamental pe...
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We stopped in a house, clearing it fairly easily. Daryl killed an owl and starts plucking the feathers. Milly sits huddled with Ashley, trying to keep her warm from the chilly air. I'm glad she took on a more parental role since Marie passed away.
My stomach rolls for the third time that day and I run out of the house, puking the tiny bit Daryl had managed to find for my family and me. I felt absolutely wasteful by whatever flu is ravaging my body. Winter is over. I thought I had made it out fairly unscathed.
"Have you figured it out yet, your ailment?" a bearded Hershel asks, coming out the backdoor towards me.
"It's just the stomach flu."
"The flu Daryl had a hand in," he says, grinning. "You're pregnant, Lilly."
My hands grip the edge of the porch as I sway dangerously on my feet from the lack of nutrition. "I can't be."
"Were you careful?"
I look away ashamed. "No."
"Time to go!" Daryl says, startling us both as he runs past us, patting me on the back as he goes. The rest of the group follows shortly. I can hear the moans of the dead and I wait for my small clan to come before tailing it to the cars.
"We've got no place left to go."
My back is aching from being on the road for so long. So much so that I struggle getting off Daryl's bike.
"Are ya okay?" he asks, concern in his voice and expression. I nod, accepting his hand to get off. I stretch my limbs on the road, hoping to get some of the stiffness out.
"When this herd meets up with this one, we'll be cut off," Maggie says, looking at a map on the hood of a car. "We'll never make it South."
"What would you say? That was about a hundred and fifty head?" Daryl mutters, squinting at the sun.
"They're not cattle," I grunt, looking down at the map as if a road will magically jump out at me that's safe.
"It could be twice that now since that was last week," Glenn says to Daryl."
"The river could've delayed them," Hershel speaks up optimistically. "If we move now, we have a shot to tear right through there."
They continue to argue as my stomach does somersaults. I walk away, hoping I won't start dry-heaving like I had been the last few days.
"Hey, you look whiter than a ghost. You sure you're okay?" Daryl asks, resting his hand on my back, his arguing with the others seemingly over.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit ill."
"Good, let's go hunting."
We set off with Rick, walking along the railroad tracks. I swallow bile a few times as not to alarm either man.
