Adapting (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 32

Gemma's P.O.V
I grip the gun tightly in my hand as we drive to the warehouse, my eyes searching for any sign of them. Daryl parks by the silos in front of us and we pull up beside him. Rick and Hershel exchange a look before Rick and I get out of the car. I leave the door open and we begin to walk through the silos as quiet as possible.

I keep an eye out for walkers or humans but the place is oddly silent. Daryl stops and points to a building across the way. We nod and follow him through the rest of the silos towards the building. We run towards the building and I see that a walker corpse lays dead on the ground. Daryl bends down to examine it and looks up and we exchange a look. Rick points for me to go over to the other side of the building and check it out.

I peer around the corner and see a lone walker there, so I sling the gun across my neck and grab my machete. I sneak up behind the walker and plunge the blade into its skull, I pull the blade out and wipe it on the grass. I put the machete back in my belt and look through a window to see Rick already speaking with the Governor. It takes everything in me to not aim the gun and pull the trigger and I turn away in a huff.

I walk around the building and see Daryl there, looking in through the window. The sound of an engine draws our attention and I see Hershel drive and park the car in front of us.

"He's already in there, sat down with Rick." Daryl says.

"I don't see any cars." Hershel says.

"I doesn't feel right." I say, looking around warily.

"Keep it running." Daryl instructs.

I look around and hear the sound of a car coming toward us, "Heads up!"

I aim my gun towards the road and soon a large tan vehicle comes into view, parking near us. The doors open and I see people get out, amongst them Andrea.

"What the hell? Why is your boy already in there?" Daryl growls at her.

"He's here?" She asks.

"Yep." I say, pointing my gun at a Latino looking man.

Andrea sighs in frustration and storms past us into the building. The man looks at me with a smirk on his face, his eyes taking over my body. He leans against the front of the car, the other man, a smaller, nerdier looking guy is writing in a notepad. I put my gun down and walk to our car, opening up the back door which happens to face the men.

I lean over and reach for my bag, pulling out some water bottles. I turn and notice the man looking at my ass, I scoff in disgust and pass Hershel a water bottle. I walk over to Daryl, who eyes the men warily. I hold the water bottle out for him and he takes it, his hands brushing against mine. An electric shock runs through me and I look up to see him looking down at me with his unreadable expression.

I clear my throat and walk away, leaning against the Tuscon as I take a drink. It's completely silent, the only noise being the wind. Hershel looks at the building uncertainly, "Maybe I should go inside."

"The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately." The nerdy guy says.

"Who are you?" Daryl asks.

"Milton Mammoth." The guy replies.

"Great, brought his butler." Daryl comments.

"I'm his advisor." Milton corrects as the Latino guy suppresses a smirk.

"What kind of advice?" Daryl asks.

"Planning, biters. I'm sorry, I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchman." He says briskly.