When the dead rise to feast on the living, it becomes nearly impossible to keep yourself, and your family, safe from anything.
For Daryl Dixon, that statement couldn't have been more true. As the apocalypse turns the world into a cruel, cruel place...
"Alright, Sidney. So, what you wanna do is hold this-..." Carefully, Rick placed a heavy, black pistol between my hands. "... just like that. Now, you're gonna wanna line up these sights here, and make sure your target is directly between them."
It took me a minute, but I eventually figured out how to correctly line up the sights on the gun. The target I was shooting at was an old, empty gallon jug, so it didn't seem too difficult to hit.
"Okay, I got them lined up," I told Rick, careful not to mess up the sights.
"Alright, good. Now, when you're ready, carefully pull the trigger, and don't forget to put the safety back on afterwards."
I nodded my head slightly before lining up my sights once again. I made sure the jug was perfectly in the middle of the two lines before I hesitantly pulled the trigger.
The sound was louder than I expected; it scared me, and I couldn't help but to jump back in surprise. I remembered what Rick had told me, and I quickly flipped on the safety switch. "Whoa..." I muttered, looking up to Rick with wide eyes. "That was loud."
Rick laughed at me. "Well, yeah, it's supposed to be loud," he chuckled. "And look, you hit your target. Right in the center, too."
I looked towards the gallon jug, and saw that it was no longer positioned on the fencepost. It had fallen to the ground, and in the middle of the plastic was a small hole, with black soot circling its edge.
"You wanna try again with a smaller target?" Rick asked, smiling down at me.
"Yeah!" I answered excitedly.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The day was fading away into dusk before gun training ended. By the time it was over, I had impressed Rick, and everyone else; I had upgraded to using a can as my target, and the third shot I fired sent it flying off the fencepost with a small hole in its center.
Rick had said I was a good shot for my age, and that that would be useful if we ever found ourselves on the road again. Hopefully, though, that wouldn't happen. Hershel's farm seemed like a very safe place; I was thinking we were going to stay there for years to come.
As the evening fell upon the sky, I went into the farmhouse and pulled out my journal. I hadn't wrote in it since the highway, so I just briefly summarized everything that had happened. That still took up around three pages though, and by the time I finished, it was completely dark out.
As I was picking up my things so I could go check on Dad, I heard a small, happy voice from behind me.
