All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 21

It was a bad idea to leave in the middle of the night.

Probably the worst idea I’ve ever had.

I walk along the sidewalk, knowing if I see a walker I can seek refuge in one of the neighborhood houses. I just need to get far enough so Daryl can’t find me. Having Sam with him, I know he won’t search for me for too long – if even searches for me at all.

My heart hammers in my chest. I can’t see anything in front of me. I don’t know how much longer I should keep going. I try to think where he would look for me first. He’ll assume I wouldn’t go in the woods, at least not at night, so the first place he’ll look is in these houses. I decide to stay in the home that’s just down the block from the one Daryl’s staying in. If he comes to look for me he’ll assume I’ve gone pretty far and won’t bother looking in the houses that are close by.

Climbing through an open window, I set my backpack on the floor and hold my breath while I listen. I don’t hear moaning or any movements in the home.

 I think I’m alone.

I find a bedroom on the first floor with a door that locks and decide this is my safest bet.

Within seconds I’m asleep and living within the comfort of my zombie-free dreams.

I sleep for a long time. When I wake, the sun is high in the sky and the temperature in the house is close to boiling. I think I’m going to die from dehydration. And that actually sounds pleasant. In this world it’s one of the best ways to go. I won’t be kidnapped and tortured. I won’t have a piece of my flesh ripped out by my own kind.

I left most of my supplies with Daryl. He and Sam need them more than I do. I haven’t been drinking nearly enough fluids as I should have been in the past few days. If I can’t find water, I give myself less than four days before I won’t be able to go on anymore. Just four more days of suffering. I can do that.

I rise to my feet and go lay down in the garage. The cool cement floor feels good against my skin. I’m practically drowning in my own sweat, but I pretend not to notice. The fact that I’m still sweating has to be a good sign.

I finally allow myself to think about how I’m really alone. It’s strange not hearing the sound of Sam’s little feet running down the hallway or Daryl’s familiar grunt. I even notice myself missing Becca’s endless stories that have no point. I miss Daryl the most. He gave me a sense of security that no one else could give. I miss his laugh and his mood swings.

I sound like a pathetic teenage girl. I don’t think I’ve been gone twelve hours and I’m acting like it’s been years since I’ve seen him.

I need to stop.

I spend the rest of the day wondering around the house. I find books and magazines to occupy most of my time and when I get bored I rummage through the closet or the pantry. There’s a few cans of food left. I could easily make it last a few weeks but with no water it doesn’t matter. I debate if I should drop them off at the house where Daryl is staying. If I did he’d know I was close and find me instantly. I wonder what he’s thinking right now. I wonder if he misses me at all. Or if he’s happy that I’m gone. I make myself stop thinking about him.

As the hours pass, I’m start to feel the signs of dehydration kick in. All I can think about is water. I’m sure if I wondered far enough I could find a river or a lake, maybe even a few water bottles lying in an empty house. But I just don’t want to go on anymore. Now that I no longer have Daryl with me there seems to be no point in living. And I can’t spend the rest of my life alone living like this. I’d end up going insane and possibly turning into a cannibal like the people I stayed with after Jayson and Sara got killed; I can’t have that.