Daryl's Angel (Book One in the Apocalypse Angel Trilogy)

Chapter 9: Attack

By the time night rolls around, the whole camp begins to feel antsy. The men are still gone, and some people are starting to fear the worst.

We sit around a fire, frying up the fish Amy and Andrea caught. Jim has been untied and has joined us at the campfire. We gobble down the fresh meat and laugh, swapping stories and jokes.

Amy gets up, and Andrea nudges her.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Bathroom. Geez, I tried to be subtle," Amy grumbles, walking towards the RV.

We continue eating, feeling peaceful and happy.

"Hey guys! We're out of toilet paper!" Amy yells.

I turn to see a walker appear out of nowhere. It lunges for her arm.

"AMY! WATCH OUT!" I shout.

The walker bites into Amy's arm as she screams. I jump up, unsheathing my knife and running towards her.

I stab the walkers attacking her, but it's too late. She's been bitten in the neck and the arm.

"AMY!" Andrea screams and runs to her sister's side.

The camp is in pandemonium. They appeared out of nowhere.

A walker comes up behind Carl. I leap forwards and sink my knife into its head, shoving Carl out of the way. He screams, and Lori grabs him.

"LORI! GET EVERYONE INTO THE RV!" Shane yells, firing his shotgun.

"Hope! Come on!" Lori hollers, ushering people inside.

I don't move. I can't stand back and let this happen. I can't.

"HOPE!" Lori screams again as I sprint away.

I kill walkers left and right. I am full of adrenaline, everything is a blur, and I can't stop. How am I even doing this? I have little to no experience.

I hear a groaning sound behind me.

I whirl around just in time to see a walker sink to the ground, an arrow stuck deep in its skull. My heart floods with relief when I see Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and T-dog racing into camp. The rest of the walkers are put down easily, and it's over as quickly as it began.

I sink to the ground, sweaty and exhausted as I sheathe my knife. If there's one thing I know, this apocalypse is going to get me fit. I shake my head and push myself back to my feet, brushing my pants off.

Carl runs crying into Rick's arms.

"Dad...I almost got bit," he whimpers. "Hope saved my life."

Rick looks towards me, nodding in silent gratitude. I nod in response.

Jim stands near me, his face blank. "I remember my dream now...why I dug those holes."

I look over at him, pursing my lips. I don't say anything in response.

"Aaaaammaaaayyyy!" Andrea's anguished cries fill the air as she calls her sister's name.

She kneels by Amy's unmoving body, sobbing and pounding the blood stained ground.

I hear more cries coming from nearby and all around. I push my bangs from my eyes, trying to keep a straight face. In one day, I've experienced more death than I ever have in my entire life.

"Everyone go get some sleep," Rick says solemnly. "We'll sort this out in the morning."

People nod, mourning as they move off to their tents. I turn and head down the familiar path towards my tent, feeling drained.

I enter Daryl's tent and sit down on one of the cots, swallowing the lump growing in my throat. I can't pretend that I'm not scared out of my mind, especially after tonight. I choke and my eyes well up with tears that immediately start streaming down my face. All the pain from the last few weeks comes out of my body as liquid tears.

I hear rustling outside the tent. I sniff and wipe the tears from my face.

Daryl unzips the tent and walks in. He looks surprised for a second when he sees me, but it quickly settles back into a disapproving frown.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I reply. "Where's Merle?"

"He wasn't there."

He keeps staring down at me, and I rub my neck awkwardly.

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"Ain't your fault." He exhales, running a hand over his hair. "He ain't dead. He...cut his hand off. Escaped before we got there."

"Oh."

We stay silent.

After a few tense minutes, he coughs. "That's my cot you're sittin' on."

I get up, blushing. "Sorry, I-"

Daryl holds up his hand, cutting me off. "It's a'ight. I'll sleep on Merle's cot."

He walks to the other side of the tent. He swings his crossbow off of his back and lays it on the ground. He settles onto the cot, taking of his boots and socks.

I watch him, not knowing what to do or say. I keep thinking of the arrow that impaled that walker's head, the walker that was about to kill me. He saved my life, and he barely knows me.

"Thank you."

"For what?" he asks, looking up at me.

"You killed that walker that was about to bite me. I saw the arrow."

"Oh, yeah. It was nothin'." He looks away, his face softened slightly with surprise. Maybe he wasn't expecting to be thanked.

"You saved my life. That's not nothing." I get up and go sit next to him. He moves away, not meeting my gaze. "We didn't get off on the right foot. What do you say to starting over?"

He pulls his eyes back to my face. "I could try that."

"Hi. I'm Hope." I extend my hand to him.

"Hey Hope. I'm Daryl Dixon." He takes my hand in his and we shake.

His grip is firm, but not tight. His hands feel rough, contrasting with the smooth skin of my palms.

I smile, standing up again. Before I can turn away, his voice stops me.

"Why're you bein' so nice to me?" he asks, looking skeptical.

"I would want the same if I were you," I answer simply. "Sleep well."

"Yeah...uh, you too." He leans back into the cot and rests his head on his arms, closing his eyes.

I go back to my cot, lying down and looking at the ceiling. After a few moments of tense quiet, he opens his eyes again.

"What the hell happened to your face?"

"I stood up against Ed. He punched me," I say shortly, annoyed by his blunt comment.

"Oh."

We settle back into silence.

"I'm not sayin' you look bad. It's just kinda bruised."

"Uh huh," I mumble, smiling minimally.

The next time I look his way, he's already sleeping, breathing softly. I feel safe knowing that him and his crossbow are there, despite barely knowing the man for over a day.

"Night Daryl," I whisper.

I snuggle into the warmth and comfort of his blanket. Soon enough, I fall asleep too.