Fight to Survive (Daryl Dixon)

6. Somebody is going hungry

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Chapter Six

 

I tried my hardest not to scratch the rash on my arm, as I walked slowly behind the boys. I had my backpack on my back, plus two others full of basic supplies. The brothers were carrying the packed up tent, weapons and ammo.

“Try and keep up, will ya?” Daryl stopped walking turning to face me. He had a frown on his face as I did my best to quicken my pace to catch up. We had been walking for hours, and my legs were aching under the weight of the packs. I had no idea where we were heading, but I just kept quiet. I was trying my best not to get on Daryl’s bad side. He wanted me gone, and I am pretty sure it’s only because Merle likes to stare at my ass when I’m not looking, was the only reason he allows me to stay with them. Small price to pay for protection and food.

I finally caught up and Daryl grabbed one of the heavy packs of my back, and slung it over his shoulder. I felt so much lighter now, but now Daryl looked over loaded with all the bags he was carrying, plus his crossbow.

“I can carry it,” I told his as I unknowingly scratched my rash.

“Don’t do that, you will make it worse,” Daryl said, as he grabbed a second bag of my back, so I was only left with one. “If you can’t keep up this time, we will leave ya behind. I don’t want you taking our stuff if that happens.”

Daryl turned and caught up to Merle. When I knew he wasn’t looking I flipped him the finger behind his back. “Such an asshole,” I mumbled as I walked at a faster pace to keep up. It was defiantly easier now I was not held down by so much weight.

“It’s gonna get dark soon,” Merle informed us, “We should find a clearing and set up for the night. The town is not far from here, we will be able to run in tomorrow and get some supplies.”

We put our stuff down in tree free spot and straight away the boys began setting up the camp site. Daryl went off and set up a perimeter with the rope with cans tied to it.

Staying close to the camp, I walked around collecting some sticks that I thought would be good to start a fire with. I wanted to be some sort of help.

I chucked them down on the ground next to the packs. And sat down, pulling out a water bottle from my pack. I nearly sculled the whole bottle. I did not get a chance to even stop for a drink today, did not want to risk being left behind.

“All we got is a two cans.” Merle held up the cans of chunky beef soup, “We don’t have time to hunt anything else.”

“Well I guess somebody is going to go hungry tonight,” I felt Daryl’s eyes on me, and I knew I was not going to be eating. I started down into my lap, as my stomach growled loudly, making me want to punch myself to shut it up. I avoided Daryl’s eyes and scratched my arm, not even caring anymore. It was just too darn itchy to ignore.

“Here,” I looked up to see Daryl placing the can of soup fresh from the fire right in front of me. Merle had the other one. Daryl sat down across from me, picking up one of his arrows from his crossbow, and started to rub it clean with a rag from his back pocket.

I looked down at the can feeling guilty. Daryl had meant himself when he said somebody was going to go hungry. I didn’t understand why he would give me the other can. He hated me, I could tell. I picked up the can. It was warm to touch, but not hot enough to burn. I got up and stood in front of Daryl.

“You need it more than me,” I said, holding the can out for him to take it.

“Don’t be stupid girl! Eat it.” Daryl continued to clean his arrows without looking up at me. I looked over to Merle to see if he would back me up with Daryl needing the food, more than what I did. He only glanced up for a second from his own food, before going back to his eating, not wanting to get involved.

I sat back down grabbing a spoon. I rubbed it clean with the end of my shirt and began to eat from the can. Once the can was half gone I forced myself to stop eating, as much as I wanted to just scoff the rest of the food down my throat. I placed the half eaten can in front of Daryl.

“I’m full,” I lied. “You can have the rest.”

Daryl peeked over and looked in the can. “Keep eating,” He ordered.

I shook my head. “You eat it, otherwise it is just going to go to waste.”

“You’re bloody stubborn.” He growled at me.

After a few glares Daryl finally gave in and ate the rest of the food from the can. It was not enough, but it was better than nothing. Hopefully we would be able to find some food in town tomorrow once it is light.

Daryl and I settled in the tent. Merle was on first watch. I slept under Daryl’s poncho like usual. It did not take long for me to drift off to sleep. Being so hungry, I didn’t have any energy to stay awake for even a minute longer.

**

“Oh shit!” I woke to the sound of Daryl’s voice.

My eye shot open and I sat up. It was light outside, and Daryl was sitting up in his sleeping bag next to me. Normally Merle would be in bed now and Daryl would be out taking his turn as watch.

“Where is Merle?” I asked Daryl.

“I dunno. He did not wake me for my turn.”

Daryl quickly got out of his sleeping bag, and rushed out of the tent. “Merle?” I heard his gruff voice echo around us. “Merle?” He yelled again. But I did not hear any reply. I quickly got out of the tent and went and stood next to Daryl, who was observing the camp site.

“Where do you think he has gone?” I asked, worry taking over me. “Do you think a walker got to him?”

Daryl did not answer me. He was scanning the ground around the camp site. He picked up his bow and walked off into the bushes and trees that surrounded the camp site. I quickly went back into the tent and grabbed my pocket knife from next to Daryl’s poncho and placed it in my shorts pocket.

“Over ere,” Daryl called for me. I crawled out of the tent and walked a few metres out of the camp, past the rope of cans. Daryl leaned down and picked up a large hunting knife of the ground. “It’s Merles. No way he would go anywhere without this.” Daryl took a few steps forward. “Look ere,” He pointed to the ground just a head. “Someone was dragged up this way.”

“Oh my god. A walker got him?” I asked, “Why didn’t he yell for help? This does not make sense.” I shook my head and followed closely behind Daryl as he continued to follow the trail. I had my red pocket knife out ready. After about 10 minutes Daryl stopped dead in his tracks. I was too busy scanning the tree’s around us for any walkers that I did not notice. I walked straight into Daryl back. I grunted taking a step back from him. Expecting him to yell at me. He, however, didn’t. He turned around, facing my direction. His eyes were scrunched up closed, and his head was bowed towards the ground. He almost looked like he was about to cry.

“What is it?” I asked.

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