In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 15

"I will try and shake away this disease." 

Erica

We'd regrouped elsewhere, still with poor teenage boy I didn't bother to learn the name of. "Them guns are worth more than gold. Gold won't protect your family or put food on the table. You willing to give that up for that kid?" Daryl asked as Rick dropped the back of weapons on the table. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek.

"Yeah, no shit gold won't, douche bag. We've got it." I said. Daryl shot me a glare, to which I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Look, all I'm saying is we know the situation sucks. But there's no way we're leaving Glenn behind. He's one of us." 

"She's right. Glenn's been with us since the beginning. He risked his life to come out here." T-dog stressed. Not to mention Glenn frequently goes on runs just to bring supplies back for the others at camp. He's the sweetest kid I've ever met, and worried more about others rather than himself. That quality is quickly becoming rare in this day and age. "But what are we gonna do if that vato over there doesn't hand him over?" 

"You calling G a liar?" Poor teenage boy I didn't bother to learn the name of asked, glaring up at T. 

"You ain't a part of this!" The redneck slapped him over the head in a way that made me want to snicker for no reason in particular. My sense of humor has become twisted over the years. I think it started to lean more towards the cynical side around the time Sam broke his hand punching a werewolf in the face when we were twelve. "You wanna hold onto your teeth?!"

"Wow, someone has their panties in a bunch." I said. Daryl glared at me, but there was no heat behind it. Probably because he knows I'm right. This really isn't the time to be freaking out, which is exactly what he's doing. Seriously, do tempers just run in the Dixon family, or is it just him? Merle was pretty okay in the time I knew him. Though, his last moments were something to scoff at.

"Question is, do you trust that man's word?" T-dog asked lowly after turning away from poor teenage boy I didn't bother to learn the name of. I folded my arms over my chest, shifting my weight. I sure don't, but then again, I've got major trust issues. With demon possession and all, you have to be suspicious of just about everyone these days. 

"No, question is what are you willin' to bet on it?" Daryl countered vehemently. "Could be more than them guns. Could be your life. Glenn worth that to you?"

"Um, fuck yeah he is." I stepped up, earning their attention. Gazes shifted to me as I took a stand for awkward-pizza boy's life. Maybe Daryl is willing to dump him in the gutter, but I'm going to roll right on forward and bowl through anyone who tries to get in my way. "Don't forget that he came out here to help us get your brother, Dixie-cup. So before you decide to throw his life away because it's convenient, maybe consider the fact that it might be nice to have a few friends on your side first."

"What did you jus' call me?" He looked mildly confused, as if not sure whether or not he should be angry or just plain surprised. Erica the master stun-gun of a human strikes again, freezing her enemies in their tracks with her words alone. 

"I just called you a paper cup." I glared up at him with as much conviction as I could muster.

"Break it up." Rick sounds exhausted. I don't blame him. Watching me is apparently the equivalent to watching a child. "Look, what life I have, I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn: just some... idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I."  

"That's right, Rick. Monologue it out." I clapped, and I saw his lips quirk up slightly. Nice to see at least somebody appreciates my riot-worthy sense of humor and amazing charm, even if that someone is a thirty year old cop with a cheating wife, and an asshole of a best friend who's fine with letting dirtbag rednecks die on roofs.