𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 (𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛)

𝑇𝑤𝑜

After awkwardly waiting for the rest of the group to say their farewells to Jim, Glenn quickly introduced me to everyone, giving me a list of names I was sure I wouldn't remember.

Dale, Lori, T-Dog, Carol, Carl, Sophia, Andrea, Jacqui...

"Daryl," Rick called out to someone behind me. I turned to find a lone man leaning against a blue and white pickup truck with a motorbike secured in the back. He nodded his head up at Rick to signal that he heard.

"Charlotte's ridin' with you," Rick said to him.

Daryl crossed his bare arms across his sleeveless shirt and frowned at me.

"Fine," he grumbled and turned to walk to the driver's side of his truck, revealing a crossbow strapped across his back.

I haven't seen one of those before.

I knew that no one was in a celebratory mood after having to say goodbye to one of their friends, so I wasn't surprised that I was met with a less than warm welcome. A few of the women offered me a tight smile before everyone piled into their designated vehicles. They didn't have to like me or be my friend; they just had to try not to get me killed.

Rick handed me my backpack and knife. I gave him a tiny smile as he patted me on the shoulder before joining a dark haired woman and a young boy that Glenn introduced as Carl. The woman shot me a not-so-subtle glare before following Rick.

"He's not as scary as he looks," Glenn said to me, referring to the man who was now sitting in the driver's seat of his car, before jogging off to his own vehicle. Now that I was alone, I started to feel more nervous than I had when there was a group of people staring at me like I just landed from the moon.

"I ain't got all day sunshine!"

I whipped around to see Daryl poking his head out of his window, glaring straight at me.

"Oh my god," I whispered under my breath before jogging off to the pickup truck.

I quickly but cautiously opened the passenger side door and stepped inside. The car smelled like cigarettes and leather. 

Daryl didn't bother to look at me as I situated myself and we sat in silence as we waited for the convoy ahead of us to get moving. His fingers scratched at the scruff covering his chin and he let out a sharp sigh. His right hand clutched the steering wheel possessively, so much that his knuckles began to turn white. I couldn't tell if I was the one making him uncomfortable or if he was naturally uptight.

"Thanks for letting me ride with you," I said to him.

"Wasn't my choice," he said in a condescending manner. 

I turned my head to look out the window before he could send another glare my way.

The beige and white motor home at the front of the convoy moved forward, followed by the rest of the group and finally us. It felt strange to be in a car again. Feeling myself being pressed back into the leather car seat made everything seem normal. The moment disappeared as soon as it came while we passed Jim's frail figure as the truck moved along. We drove in a tense silence for what seemed like forever until I felt my eyes finally start to droop.

I drifted off a couple of times. I saw different faces, different shapes. The eloquently drawn dandelion in the botanist's notebook, the pear slices that I shared with him over breakfast one morning. Then, my brother, with a look that would linger in my mind forever plastered across his face as he stood in front of a campfire, slowly turning to look at me. There were hordes behind him, hordes of those things.

Sometimes I didn't know what to call them anymore, everyone seemed to have a different name for them: Roamers, Biters, Dead Ones, Skin Eaters, Ghosts. In the end, they were all the same.