𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 (𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛)

𝑇𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝐸𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

"Shane belongs in this world, Charlotte," Dale said to me as he adjusted the strap of his rifle. "At least, at the end of the day when the world goes to shit, you can say that you didn't let it drag you down with it."

Dale was right, yet I still felt a sense of defeat tugging at my gut. Who was to say how much morality was worth in a world ruled by the dead? I didn't want to be like Shane, but I was still pondering whether or not I made the right choice.

The two of us finished the walk in silence, only pausing once we reached the empty field again, where I could see that the motorhome still didn't have someone standing guard. As I was about to open my mouth to mention it to Dale, an array of nearby gunshots sounded out.

"Crap," I said under my breath, pulled out my knife, and both Dale and I broke into a run all the way to the motorhome, where I spotted a crowd gathered around the front of the barn. I kept going, letting my legs move the fastest they had in awhile, and watched the barn slowly grow closer. I skidded to a stop as I arrived a few yards away from the gathering and the gunshots ceased. 

I saw Carol standing the closest to me with her back turned, trembling with her hands covering her mouth. I put away my blade and went over to her, gently placing my hands on her shoulders.

"Carol," I began softly. "Are you okay?"

She said nothing and kept staring ahead. I followed her gaze and saw motionless bodies sprawled out across the dirt floor in front of the open barn doors. They were the walkers that Hershel had been hiding away. There was an eerie blanket of silence covering the group around me. Nearby, Lori was crouched on the floor cradling a distraught Carl in her arms. At the front of the group, Hershel kneeled on the ground with Maggie's hand resting on his shoulder.

Suddenly, a thin, pale arm poked out from behind the large, wooden door. Another walker? I squinted my eyes to get a better look, and watched the scrawny figure step out into the glaring sunlight. Her blue shirt, although muddied and worn, stood out against her discolored skin the most. Her once blonde locks now looked grey, caked in dry mud that fused thick strands of her hair to her colorless cheeks.

Within a second, Carol left my side and sprinted towards her, towards Sophia. I saw Daryl drop the shotgun he carried to catch her in his arms and the both of them tumbled onto the dirt floor. Everyone watched Sophia's stiff limbs carry her towards Rick, who stood the closest to her, stunned and motionless. From where I stood, I could hear her growl and groan as she reached out to Rick, desperate to clench her jaws around his arm. 

Rick suddenly raised his revolver and aimed it in the center of Sophia's forehead. I quickly turned away and squeezed my eyes shut, listening to Carol's agonizing wails before one final gunshot rang out.

✯✯✯

It was later in the day when I made the trek across an empty field. The sun was less harsh than it had been earlier, making my walk through the shadeless field almost enjoyable. As I neared a cluster of trees, I could see Daryl sitting on the ground by a small campfire. Nearby, stood the remains of an old, stone chimney that held a few of his things in its hearth: His tent and motorcycle stood a couple of yards behind it.

After the shootout at the barn, Hershel and his family became distraught and ordered us to leave the farm before retreating into the house. I only saw them again at the joint funeral for Sophia and Hershel's wife and stepson. They stood off to the side, away from our group. Beth cried the most, while everyone else simply looked on at the freshly dug graves in grief. Daryl solemnly stood apart from the group as well in his little corner. I had tried to make eye contact with him, or even make out an emotion on his stoic face, but I fell short in both categories. He disappeared once the service was over and I had to ask around for him until Andrea finally pointed me in the direction of the field. Hershel had gone into town for a drink, sending Rick and Glenn off to bring him back, leaving the whole farm in somewhat disarray.

I walked all the way up to the campfire without Daryl turning to acknowledge me even once. Instead, he stared on at the dying fire playing out before his eyes.

"Daryl?"

He stayed rigid and made no indication that he was listening to me. I sighed through my nose and silently stood in my place, watching him blatantly ignore me, before going over and sitting crossed legged on the grass next to him. Our shoulders touched, and I felt him inch away from me.

"I'm not here to drag you back to camp," I said to him gently. I felt as if I'd spent an eternity sitting there, watching the fire burn through neatly organized twigs, before he finally spoke up in a raspy voice.

"Then why are ya here?"

I looked at him and found that his eyes now looked tired, empty of the hard and critical stare I had seen so many times before.

"Because, I care about you," my voice came out low and quiet, a part of me feeling tired as well, emotionally drained after the events from earlier in the day. The only thing I really wanted to do was let my head rest on the grass beneath me and drift off to sleep.

"It's okay if you want to be alone out here, away from everything," I continued. "Sometimes, being alone sounds better, like if you get far away enough from the problem, it won't hurt anymore."

Daryl had looked down from the fire and started tearing out small blades of grass with his fingers.

"I was going to leave, you know, after what happened with Shane."

His head slightly perked up at my comment but his eyes still made no effort to meet my gaze.

"I figured that things would get better if it was just me again, wandering alone in the woods, not having to care about anyone but myself. I thought that never seeing Shane again would take away the constant fear and hopelessness I felt. But, I stayed. And I'm glad I did. I just hope that one day you'll decide not to be alone anymore."

I paused for a moment and slowly reached over, gently placing my hand on top of his. His arm tensed up but he didn't pull away from me, only slightly twitching his fingers under my touch. I waited a moment after I finished talking to give him a chance to say anything, but he didn't. He continued to sit there quietly and stare holes into the ground beneath us. I gave his hand one final squeeze before getting up and turning to walk back to my own camp.

"Why'd you stay?"

My head whipped around and I found him gazing up at me with weary eyes: light from the sinking sun illuminated a thin coat of sweat on his forehead. My throat suddenly felt dry and coarse. I forced myself to swallow and take in a deep breath before speaking.

"Because of you," I answered. For a moment, his eyes shifted into something of disbelief, as if he didn't believe what I was saying. "I stayed because you make me feel safe, Daryl."

He looked at me for a moment more before letting his eyes wander back to his campfire and tightly clenching the fist that I had placed my hand upon.

✯✯✯

(𝑷𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 8/21/20)