In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 10

"I deserve a little more."

Erica

"Look at them." Glenn shook his head in complete and utter disgust. Disgust I understand very well, in fact. Watching Jim and Dale rip apart the beautiful car we'd raced here in was excruciating, and it made me feel worried for my own baby, whom the two men have been eyeing since myself and my other three amigos rolled up in it. But I can really only protect my sacred, stolen vehicle for so long before they get their grubby hands on it.

"Vultures." I agreed, shaking my head sadly. Rick walked up, looking between us, and then at the piece of art being ruined right before our very eyes. I took note that, somehow, Rick didn't smell like shit. Compared to him, I probably smell worse than an overused porta pottie that's been sitting in Texas heat for three weeks straight. And don't even get me started on Glenn. Has the man never heard of deodorant?

"Yeah, go ahead." Glenn scoffed. "Strip it clean!"

"RVs need every drop of fuel they can get. Wouldn't have power without it. Sorry Glenn, Erica." Dale said, patting Glenn's shoulder as he passed. I shook my head again. Excuses excuses. You can tell my the look in their eyes that they really just wanted a chance to dissect such a good car. Look at all the beautiful ins and outs of the things. Dale can have the gas, but did they really need to remove the tires? Harsh.

"I thought we'd get to drive it at least a few more days before they ripped it from our grasp." I sighed sadly, watching with pained eyes. This has to be illegal, right? Destroying such a beautiful piece of work has to go against some law. Rick's a cop. Maybe I can convince him too cuff Jim and Dale's ankles together.

"Maybe we'll get to steal another one someday." Rick assured Glenn and I, patting both our backs before turning to further explore the camp. It did absolutely nothing to thin out the immense disappointment I was feeling at this very moment and time. Glenn didn't look like he was fairing all that much better. I sighed.

"Let's go stare at the Mustang before they strip that too." I said sadly. Glenn nodded in agreement, and we turned to sulk off like the responsible adults we are. Not protecting my car would be a disservice! Dale has been circling my gorgeous automotive like its a piece of meat, and Jim hasn't bee much better. I'm not sure if I should be flattered by their attraction to my illegally-obtained car or not.

When we finally dragged ourselves over there, Dale was there. "Look at him." Glenn shook his head as Dale circled the car, as though trying to figure out what to take first. "I bet he's deciding which tire to pop off first."

"I still don't understand that." I muttered as Dale stopped at the trunk. I almost keeled over and died right there when he went for the handle and popped it open and threw it open with little to no warning whatsoever. Even Glenn looked surprised that the man was so blatantly invading my privacy. I couldn't help but sputter. "The fuck?"

"So this is where you've been getting all those knives." Dale looked up at me. I gaped at him, wondering if he was going to tattle to the camp on me. I wouldn't exactly blame him if he did. Someone was bound to discover the small arsenal in my car's trunk eventually. It's nothing compared to the Impala, but it's enough to raise some heads. I have a knack for losing knives in fights. I lose them like a dryer loses socks. They just vanish!

"Dale, what are you doing snooping around my car? I already told you, you can't have it." If I act like nothing's wrong, maybe it'll be fine. "And I never said you could open my trunk."

"It was unlocked." Dale shrugged, pulling out a sword. "What do you use this for?"

"Whoa, you have a sword?! That's so cool!" Glenn clearly doesn't seem as fazed as Dale appears to be. Why am I not surprised? He's used to my weird behavior. Hell, he doesn't even question it when he catches me reading books in Latin or muttering exorcisms. I need to memorize as many as I can, because I'm not always going to have my handy dandy books at my disposal.

"Leave my shit alone. I'm a collector! Why did you think I was in Atlanta?" I was pulling lies straight out my ass, but Dale doesn't need to know that, and neither does Glenn. "I sure as hell don't live there. I was visiting to show off my collection to some fellow collectors of... well, blades, clearly." I gestured towards it.

"There's guns in here too. Guns the rest of camp could sure use." Dale picked up one of the sawed off shotguns I'd shoved in there. Now Glenn was looking at my questionably too, sort of how you look at that semi-old takeout in the back of your fridge trying to decide if you can eat it without getting sick or not. I sighed heavily. "You've got a lot of slugs in here too."

Yeah, slugs full of rock salt.

"Dale, what's in my trunk is really none of your business, now is it?" I tapped my foot. "If you could kindly fuck off, that'd be great."

Before Dale could respond, a scream sounded, echoing through camp. With it came a chill that washed over me like a tidal wave, crashing down and threatening to drown me. I was off and running as soon as my brain could process what it'd heard. I barely comprehended the others around me, also running towards the source of Carl and Sophia's shrieks. My heart pounded, reverberating through every bone in my body. Had one of them been bit? There hadn't been any walkers near camp.

Dale.... Dale and my trunk can wait.

We found Carl and Sophia together, not too deep into the woods. They were covered in sweat, fear and panic painted on their faces. It urged be forward and past them, drawing my machete from its sheath. Rick and Shane, along with the others no doubt, crashed through the bushes behind me as I came to a dead stop. My nose unconsciously crinkled at the smell as I gazed down at the walker, who was having a gold ol' time chowing down on what no doubt would have been an amazing meal had he not taken a bite out of it.

I took note of the bolts sticking out of the deer and grimaced further. 

Daryl.

[Song: Rain King by Counting Crows]