𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 (𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛)

𝑇𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦

"Dale?" I stuck my head inside the motorhome and found Dale drinking a bottle of water by the kitchen sink.

"What can I do for ya?" He smiled at me enthusiastically, like the fact that someone came looking for him made him excited.

"Uhm, I was wondering if you had a notebook or journal lying around in all of this," I gestured to the growing clutter stationed in different parts of the RV: Bags, cups, clothes, and various other belongings had piled up in different places during the past couple of days.

"Well, I can certainly look. Say, I never pegged you for a writer," his brows furrowed in interest. "You always seemed like an arts and crafts kind of gal."

A nervous laugh left my lips and my hand flew up to touch the back of my neck.

"I'm not much of a writer, I just want somewhere to put down my thoughts before I forget them."

Dale nodded his head intently and reached up to take off his hat.

"Well, I'll be sure to let you know if I find anything."

I smiled in thanks and backed out of the motorhome, feeling hopeful that Dale would be able to help me with what I wanted. It was then that the movement of a figure exiting the farmhouse caught my eye and I turned my head further to get a better look. Our neighborhood friendly redneck was strutting away from the porch steps, crossbow slung over his shoulders and a determined look on his face, no doubt about to start his search for Sophia.

I started towards him at a jog and called out his name. I figured since I wasn't doing anything else, I might as well help him look. Daryl whipped his head around at the sound of his name and stopped in his tracks.

"Are you going to go look for Sophia?" I stopped a few feet in front of him under the shade of one of trees.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Could I come with you?"

His eyes quickly looked me up and down before he shook his head.

"Nah, you'll slow me down."

I felt my heart sink a little.

"I have my knife," I said determinedly and pointed to the sheath hanging off my waist.

"I can kill a walker if I have to and I'll keep up." I was a little worried at the fact that I almost sounded desperate for him to let me come. I held up my hand with all fingers folded except for my last.

"Pinky promise?" I offered with the cheesiest smile I could muster.

Daryl scoffed and silently shook his head.

"Fine," he sighed and resumed his walk. A smug grin arose on my lips and I quickly trailed behind him as we made our way across the farm and into the woods.

✯✯✯

Our walk through the trees was silent as we made our way deeper into the woods, side by side. The sun was now completely blocked out by the masses of leaves above. My hand stayed positioned on the hilt of my knife, ready to pull it out if need be, and Daryl's crossbow now rested firmly in his arms.

I couldn't help but notice how every shirt that Daryl had worn was missing it's sleeves, leaving his arms bare and vulnerable to the countless bugs I'd already swatted away. I silently watched the muscles in his arms bulge and tighten as he walked next to me and I began to wonder how heavy that crossbow really was.

"Why the crossbow?" I asked.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye but said nothing.

"I mean, out of all the weapons you could have chosen from, like an ax or one of those spikey metal balls on a chain, you chose a crossbow. Is it because it has a special meaning to you or something? I only ask because it's so unique and different from what everyone else is using."

"Anyone ever tell ya you're annoying?" he grumbled and gave me a side-eye.

"Oh, so it does have a special meaning to you," I smirked.

"Leave me alone."

I could see the corners of his lips slightly perk up, even as he turned his head off to the side and stared at some more trees.

"Over there," he nudged my arm and pointed to the right. I moved around him to get a better look and in the middle of a nearby clearing stood a large two-story house. Dirty white paneling covered the exterior of the home and faded red paneling decorated the roof.

I followed him across the clearing until he stopped in front of the house and turned to face me.

"Stay here and wait for me, I don't want you gettin' in my way," he bent down and quickly loaded an arrow into his crossbow before climbing up the porch steps.

"But I can help," I said back.

"Stay," he barked and shot me a stern glare before raising his crossbow and heading inside.

I sighed and took my knife out of its sheath, plopping myself down on the last porch step. A part of me was worried that I would start to get lumped up with the weaker members of the group: Carol, Lori, Carl, Dale, and even Glenn for the most part. Maybe it was naive to think that in a world where men once again had the upper hand, I could somehow make it to the roundtable.

A sudden rustling came from behind a nearby tree and I quickly rose to my feet: A rasping walker came trudging out from its cover and looked around aimlessly. I stepped off the porch and marched in its direction. At the sound of my footsteps, the walker's body turned around to face me. 

It was a thin woman, roughly the same height as me, with dark, greasy hair clinging to her cheeks. She couldn't have been much older than I was when she died. As I neared her, the walker's jaws pried themselves open and the familiar look of hunger and bloodlust rested in her eyes. I had rehearsed the technique a hundred times in my head: Kick in the knees, wait until it falls, and then put it down. Although killing walkers was mostly a game to my brother, he still managed to pass on some useful knowledge every now and then.

I was only two strides away from the walker when the tip of my right foot caught itself on the back of my left heel and my body went toppling forward.

"FUCK!"

I let out a groan through clenched teeth as something sharp embedded itself into the palm of my left hand. I didn't have time to lick my wounds, the walker was beginning to lean forward as well, with outstretched arms and snapping jaws.

My hand clenched my knife tightly before I pushed myself onto my side, rolling away just as the walker propelled itself face-first into the grass beside me. I quickly got up, ignoring the stinging pain in my palm, and used the bottom of my boot to kick the fallen corpse onto its back.

My legs spread apart and placed the walker beneath me. Using my injured hand, I pushed down on a bloodstained chest until the woman who was no more lay flat on her back, hands reaching up and pulling hair out my ponytail. Using all the strength I could muster, I slammed the blade of my knife into the center of the walker's skull, praying that it went in hard enough to penetrate the brain.

The hands that were once desperately trying to claw my skin off suddenly went limp and fell to the ground. I tugged at the hilt of my blade but it remained in the head of the walker. I let myself curse once more before again, pushing down with my injured hand and simultaneously pulling my knife. In one swift pull, my weapon came loose, and so did splatters of blood all over my chest. I sat up straight and looked ahead, where Daryl stood a couple of yards away.

✯✯✯

(𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 7/15/20)