Angel in the Apocalypse

20

After what seemed like forever, Hershel came to Rick and me.

"She seems to have stabilized." He told us.

"I don't have words," Rick told him.

"I don't either. Wish I did. How do I tell Patricia about Otis?" Hershel asked.

Rick and I shared a look.

"You can go see (y/n). I'll go with Hershel." Rick said

I would've gone to see (y/n) but I figured that she would still be asleep, so I went outside to finally set up my camp. I spent night and day in the room with (y/n) so I didn't feel the need to waste energy on my tent. Before I could grab all of my things, I heard someone walking up behind me.

"Is she okay?" Carl spoke up.

I turned around and looked at the kid. He had comic books upon comic books in his hands. I guess he saw me looking at the comics and felt the need to explain.

"I was gonna go read to her. My mom used to read to me when I was sick. I was hoping it would make her feel better."

"She's gonna be fine, kid. Hershel said she's okay, but I don't think she's awake." I told the boy.

"Thanks, Mr. Daryl," Carl said and took off towards the house.

(Y/n) POV

I awoke to the sound of someone speaking. I peeled my eyes open and saw that it was Carl. He was sitting in a chair next to the bed that I was in. I did not want to interrupt him, so I stayed quiet.

"Then Superman said, 'Dreams save us. Dreams lift us up and transform us. And on my soul I swear... until my dream of a world where dignity, honor, and justice becomes the reality we all share... I'll never stop fighting. Ever'."

"That is a wonderful thing," I spoke, causing Carl to jump.

"Do you want me to stop reading? Mom says that girls don't really like comic books and superheroes." He asked, beginning to get shy.

A flash of disappointment crossed his face.

"I merely do not know of them," I told the boy. "However, I am somewhat familiar of the man that is a bat."

"Batman! I have some of those comics."

Carl shuffled through his things until he found what he was looking for.

"You wanna look at it with me?" He asked.

"Of course."

Without hesitation, Carl sat on the bed beside me and opened the book.

"That is Bruce Wayne, also known as Batman," Carl said, pointing to a man in a business suit.

Daryl POV

After setting up my camp, I decided to go see (y/n).

"Carl! Carl!" I heard Lori shout. "Where is that boy?"

I scoffed at the woman's inability to keep up with her child. I walked into Hershel's house and made my way to the room (y/n) was in. I was surprised to see her awake and listening to Carl.

"The Joker is one of my favorites." The boy said before pointing to something else. "That's Two-Face. You can tell because half his face is burnt so it looks like he has two faces."

I cleared my throat, gaining both of their attention.

"Ya ma's lookin' for ya," I told Carl.

"Okay. Thanks, Daryl." Carl collected his things and left the room.

(Y/n) looked up at me and smiled.

"I have healed." She said.

She lifted her bandage to show me her wound. There was nothing there that would make you think she was shot. No scar, no bruising, no wound.

"We're about to have a funeral for Otis," I told her.

She tilted her head in confusion.

"He helped Shane get what Hershel needed to help you. He, uh, he didn't make it." I told her.

"Oh." She said, solemnly. "I wish to accompany you to his funeral."

She got out of the bed and slightly stumbled. She was able to catch herself before she hit the floor.

"Ya angel mojo ain't back yet?"

"Angel mojo?" She questioned.

I didn't know how to explain an angel to an angel. What'd she call it? Grace? Grace!

"Ya grace?" I asked.

"No. My grace has not completely returned. Although my wound is healed, I will still need to rest so my grace can return." She explained.

Seeing that she could barely stand, let alone walk, I decided to help her outside. Everyone else was already gathered around Otis' freshly dug gravesite. Hershel looked at (y/n) as if he had just witnessed a miracle, which is a very likely thing to happen with her. Without questioning us, Hershel began the service for Otis.

"Blessed to be God, father of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Praise be to him for the gift of our brother Otis, for his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a woman's, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived, in grace." Hershel preached.

Had it not been for the Angel by my side, I would have rolled my eyes at his faith.

"Shane, will you speak for Otis?" He asked.

"I'm not good at it. I'm sorry." Shane said.

I glared at the name. His story earlier just wasn't adding up. I want to see what he'll come up with now.

"You were the last one with him. You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning." The mourning wife begged.

"Okay. We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up. 'We've got to save the girl.' See, that's what he said." Shane spoke. "He gave me his backpack. He shoved me ahead. 'Run', he said. He said, 'I'll take the rear. I'll cover you.' And when I looked back..." She trailed off, as if not wanting to remember what happened. "If not for Otis, I'd have never made it out alive. And that goes for (y/n) too. It was Otis. He saved us both. If any death, ever had meaning, it was his."

With that, Shane placed a rock on Otis' grave and walked away. Everyone else seemed to follow his lead. Before I could go anywhere, (y/n) pulled me away from everyone.

"I am going to go see Otis." She whispered. "I wish to thank him."

"You need to be restin'. What the hell am I supposed to tell Hershel if he asks about you?"

"Cover for me."

Without another word, she flew off with a flap of her wings. I scoffed.

"Stupid Angel."