Torn Apart (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

Cat's P.O.V
The bright light burns my eyes when I first walk outside. The air is fresh and fills my lungs. I take in my surroundings and see lots of people. I mean lots of people. They are all working together. Some people are at a fence, stabbing walkers in the head with various weapons. Some people are at the gates building something. Others are digging in the fields, plotting the soil. I shake my head in wonder.

"It's a lot to take in." Hershel murmurs beside me.

"It's like there not affected by what's out there." I say in amazement.

"Believe me Cat. They've been through a lot more than you think." He says.

I nod at my foolishness. Of course they have. In this world you can't go by unaffected, it's impossible. I follow Hershel over to some people standing by the first fence. There is a young, pretty brunette standing next to an Asian man and they are holding hands. My heart aches for a second as I look at them.

"Maggie, Glenn. Come meet Cat."

They turn and come over towards us. The woman smiles and puts out her hand.

"Maggie Greene."

"You must be Hershel's daughter." I say, recognising the last name.

"Yeah, one of them." She smiles at her father.

I smile at her friendliness and obvious love for her dad. The Asian man shakes my hand.

"I'm Glenn, Maggie's husband."

"Wow, married. That's great."

"We think so." Maggie says, kissing Glenn's cheek.

I turn away at their interaction, my heart aching.

"Let's go meet some other people."

By the end of the tour I have met many people, some standing out more than others. Beth, Hershel's other daughter who was surrounded by many children. Sasha and Tyresse, who are brother and sister. It is comforting to know that they still have each other. There are also many other people. By the time I met them, there were two people left. Hershel leads us over to the field where two people were plotting the ground. One is a young boy, around fifteen, wearing a sheriff's hat. The other is a handsome man, looking to be in his late thirties. He has a greying beard despite the Georgian heat, his shirt clinging to his muscled body. As we walk over he looks up.

"Rick, I'd like you to meet Cat." Hershel introduces.

Rick wipes his hand on his pants and holds his hand out. I take it.

"Rick Grimes."

"Cat Hemmings."

"Nice to meet you Cat, welcome to the Prison." He says letting go of my hand.

"Thank you for having me." I smile.

"Our pleasure. I'd like you to meet my son Carl."

I look over at the boy who is eyeing me sceptically.

"Hello." I say.

He nods his head in response and goes back to digging.

"He's just shy." Rick apologises.

"That's fine. He doesn't know me, could be a serial killer for all he knows, right Hershel?"

Hershel laughs at my joke, while Rick looks puzzled.

"Never mind, inside joke." Hershel says.

"Inside jokes already. Seems as if your going to fit in here fine Miss Hemmings." Rick says.

I keep my mouth shut at the title, not wanting to bring up him.

"Do you need any help?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Um, sure. How are you at farming?" He asks, gesturing to the fields.

"Never done it a day in my life, so I probably suck but I'm willing to learn."

"I'll leave you to it." Hershel says, heading back to the prison.

I walk grabbing a shovel and begin to work at the soil.

"So how did you end up in Georgia?" Rick asks while digging.

"What makes you think I'm not from here?" I ask.

"You don't have the accent. You sound like a city girl." He states.

I laugh, "Yeah. Chicago."

"Wow, that's awhile away. How'd you end up here?" He asks.

"Long story. Just trying to survive. What about you?"

"We're from Georgia." He states.

"Fair enough." I say, resuming digging.

After a little while, the sun begins to go down.

"I think that's about it for the day." Rick states, flicking the shovel over his shoulder.

Carl walks off without saying a word back to the prison. Rick sighs and I follow him back.

"So tell me about yourself Cat."

"There's not much to tell Rick." I shrug.

"Everyone's got a story." He argues.

"Mines a story not worth telling."

He pauses before speaking, "I see you don't want to talk about it, I understand." He nods.

"Thanks." I say.

The sound of a bike fills the air. I turn to see a bike come through the open gate. Carl drops his shovel and runs to the gate to open it. The bike glides through and Carl shuts the gate behind it. The bike swirls to a stop beside the other vehicles, the engine turns off and it is silent again minus the moans of the walkers. Two bodies emerge off the bike, the first being the African American woman from before. She smiles brightly when she sees Carl and he runs to hug her. She hugs him back and pulls something out of her bag, giving it to him. Carl smiles and accepts it. They begin to walk off to the prison. I turn my attention to the other person. He is tall, with long, dark hair. He is wearing black boots, pants and a sleeveless leather vest, showing off his muscular arms. The man pulls the keys out of the ignition and walks into the prison.

"Who's that?" Cat asks Rick.

"That's Daryl Dixon."