Adapting (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 22

Gemma's P.O.V
8 Months Later
Rick kicks open the door and shoots a walker in the head, with me followed closely behind. I take out the next one with my machete and it falls to the ground. T-Dog and Daryl follow closely behind and we all separate and search the house. I go upstairs and search the rooms one by one. I kick open a door and reveals two walkers inside.

I rush forward and thrust my machete into the walkers head but it becomes stuck. The other walker trips and lands on top of me, knocking the wind out of me. I push at it's snapping jaws and try to reach my machete but it's too far. I thrust my hand forward and push my fingers into its eye balls, the goo going all over me. The walker seems unfazed as it continues for me, it's teeth inches from my face.

I scream out in frustration as I try to my use my legs to kick it away. It's face comes closer until I feel it nearly touch me. A sound goes through the air and and arrow appears and inch from my eye through the walkers head. I let out a sigh of relief and lean my head back against the ground. The walker's body is pulled away and I see the eyes of the hunter looking down on me.

"Are you alright?" He asks as he pulls me to my feet.

"I am now. Thank you." I say, looking at him.

He stares at me with the Georgian blues that even after all this time, I still care for deeply. His arm still grasps my wrist and I'm sure he can feel my racing pulse through my heated skin.

"Gemma? Are you alright?" Rick calls.

"I'm fine. Be down in a minute!" I call, my eyes still focused on Daryl's.

His eyes darken slightly at the sound of Rick's voice and I wonder why that is. He let's go of my wrist and walks out the door to check the end of the hall. I walk down the stairs and look to see the others beginning to pile into the abandoned house. Everyone looks tired and haggard from our eight month journey since the farm, travelling walker filled roads to survive.

Lori walks in after Beth, carrying a rather heavy looking bag. She walks past Rick, who avoids her eye contact. They haven't been properly speaking these last eight months and the tension between the two is easy to see by the group.

"Let me help you with that." I say, reaching for the bag.

"I'm fine!" She snaps, glaring at me.

I recoil from her look as she stalks past me towards the the living room. I look up and see Rick giving me an apologetic look and I give him a weak smile in return. He closes the door after Hershel and we make our way to the living room.

I walk over towards the window and take my watch, looking out for any threats. Carol passes Lori some food and I can't help but look at her in jealousy. I know it's because she's pregnant and she has to look after the baby, but I hadn't had a decent meal in over a week.

Carl rushes in with two tin cans in his hands and he reaches into a bag. He pulls out a can opener and begins to open one of the tins and we stare in hunger. Daryl sits on one of the lounges and begins to pluck at an owl he must have caught. His arms flex and his toned muscles peak out and I look upon him in lust. He glances up for a moment and his eyes catch mine and I look away in embarrassment, my cheeks turning red.

Rick begins to walk over to Carl and picks up the can of food, reading the label. He stares at it for a moment before throwing it angrily into the empty fireplace. His eyes meet mine and I give him a stern look in disapproval before looking out the window again. A whistle is heard from the other side of the room and I look over to T-Dog and see him gesturing to the window.

I look out and groan in defeat as a herd of walkers approaches the house. I pick up my machete and stand at the back as everyone begins to leave. I look around to see if we've left anything behind before following them out to the cars. I dash to one of the cars and jump into the drivers seat as Lori, Carl, Carol get into the back, Rick in the front with me.