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Daryl thrived on adrenaline. His release of energy was empowering. He could have been dead asleep when the wave of walkers washed over the farm and he’d still be able to fight them close-mindedly and as if he was holding his breath. With every kill, by gunshot or by a quick jab to the head with a knife, Daryl felt more alive. The fight heightened his senses and quickened his thoughts, which were centered on his and his group’s safety—but also on Beth and her whereabouts. He’d seen her run off with Patricia in the distance, but he lost sight of her as the two took on small ambushes of their own.
Again, Daryl was confused by his concern for the girl. He felt as if he’d known her for a really long time; like they were old friends and having her alive was the most important thing to him now. Above everyone else in their group. He just felt a connection to her he hadn’t felt with anyone else since before the outbreak, and he couldn’t begin to explain it to even himself—after all, they’d only shared one conversation.
Circling around the property, Daryl made his way down the driveway. He passed the RV, which was overrun by walkers, and finally caught a glimpse of Beth as she took down two walkers and continued onward. Revving his bike’s engine, he sped up toward her and came to a skidding halt beside her. “C’mon!” he’d called over the mayhem.
When he felt Beth’s arms wrap tightly around him, he lifted his feet and let go of the brake, keeping his brother’s bike balanced as it picked up speed down the driveway. He followed the same path to the main road and headed for the nearest highway, getting out of town being the only thing set in his mind. As he drove silently away from the destruction and chaos of the farm, he felt Beth’s cheek settle against his back and her arms squeeze him. Her hands groped at his shirt, searching for security, for comfort, for anything.
Maybe she felt it, too, the connection that seemed to pull the two together…a force that fate could only control.
He leaned back against her gently and dropped one of his hands to grasp hers reassuringly. “We’ll be okay!” he shouted over the wind whipping past them and the roar of the engine.
While fighting on the farm, Daryl hadn’t realized just how much time was passing; but as they drove for what seemed such a short amount of time, the sun slipped above the horizon and lit the sky before them.
Beth poked at his side to get his attention and he grunted in response. “Daryl,” she began, lifting her head to look up at him as he drove, “we gotta go back. There’s gotta be others. I think I saw T-Dog, Carol, an’ Lori get out in the truck.”
She had to be right,Daryl thought to himself as he took the next turn in order to double back to the interstate where the group had originally been trapped in a graveyard of abandoned cars. They couldn’t have been the only ones to find an exit through the flock of walkers, and the interstate seemed like a proper meeting place. If Daryl knew Rick Grimes at all, it’d be where he would go first; and finding Rick would be better than not going back at all.
So, he drove in the direction of the highway, one hand closed around Beth’s and his other keeping the bike steady down the deserted road.
~*~*~*~
As Daryl and Beth closed in on the highway, another car came into view…a familiar mint green SUV. He pointed ahead at it and accelerated, veering right to pass it and see who occupied the driver’s and passenger’s seat.
“Maggie!” Beth yelled her head turning back as Daryl took the lead. “Glenn, too!”
The cavalcade took the exit onto the highway and spotted the red and white truck from the farm. Daryl crossed the grassy median and came to a stop in front of Rick, Hershel, and Carl. As soon as he parked the bike, Beth hopped off to reunite with Hershel and her sister, and Rick approached to clasp hands with him before greeting his wife, who’d been in the blue truck following close behind Glenn and Maggie.
Rick peeled himself away from his family and stepped into the center of the circle that had naturally formed. “Where’d you find everyone?”
His question was directed at Daryl, who lifted a pointed finger at Glenn and let out a quiet chuckle. “Got his taillights zigzagging all over the road, figured he had to be Asian drivin’ like that.”
A unison laugh came from the others in the group and Glenn nodded a few times. “Good one.”
“Where’s the rest of us?” Daryl asked as he tallied up who’d arrived. They were missing quite a few like Dale, Patricia, and Jimmy…Shane and Andrea. His heart plummeted into his stomach.
“We’re the only ones who’ve made it so far.” It was Rick who’d answered for the rest of the group.
Lori stood up from hugging Carl and stepped forward, concern painted across her face. “Shane?” But Rick simply shook his head. Two gunshots, Daryl thought, immediately figuring out that Rick had killed Shane and that those shots brought the walkers onto the farm in the first place.
“Andrea?” asked Glenn, who received an immediate response from Carol. “She saved me, but then I lost her.”
“Saw her go down,” T-Dog followed up as if calling the girl’s time of death for the rest of them. A confirmation no one wanted to hear.
“Patricia?” Hershel added, the truth sewn into his voice because he knew already that she didn’t make it. Beth shook her head slowly, though, and hugged him again.
“No, Daddy,” she began explaining, “I was with her and they got her, too. Her and Dale…what about Jimmy?”
Beth already knew the answer. She’d lived this reunion before, been through the heartache of learning who they’d lost. It was the same exact group as before, even with Dale surviving until the ambush of walkers. She couldn’t save anyone from this.
“The RV was overrun,” Daryl mumbled in response to Rick’s account that Jimmy had taken the RV. The group finally fell quiet as each person thought of those they’d lost and what had happened on the safest piece of land they had. “I’m goin’ back.”
This time Beth stepped forward in objection. “Daryl, you can’t.” Her face was reddened with her sudden outburst, embarrassed as the rest of their group turned to look at her. “It’s no use,” she went on, speaking directly to him, “I—we can’t lose you, too.”
“She’s right, Daryl,” Rick agreed, and then looked at the rest of their group, trying to figure out what to do next.
Daryl glanced around, too, his eyes settling on Carl whose face was screwed up with unanswered questions. Kids always found the loopholes before anyone else, and as Daryl watched Carl, he realized that the younger one couldn’t make two ends meet. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it until he did, and he spoke up suddenly. “Hey, Dad, did Shane get bit?”
The look on Rick’s face changed from sorrowful to bewilderment as he contemplated the question, his head tilting to the side as conclusions drew themselves up in his mind. He looked as if he were just punched in the gut, all the wind knocked out of him at his sudden realization. A secret shared between him and his son evidently because as Daryl looked around at the others, he could tell they were all on the same boat named What The Hell Is Going On?
“Jenner was right,” was all Rick said, his voice was quiet and sounded sort of defeated, but his words only confused Daryl further. “Before we left the CDC, before it blew up, Jenner told me somethin’. I-I didn’t wanna believe it.”
The tension that had appeared in the group only tightened with Rick’s words. Daryl could almost hear the stomachs of those around him churn, chewing over Rick’s confession without knowing what it meant. “We’re all infected, right?” he asked, trying to make sense of this discussion. He had a feeling he’d heard it before, felt his stomach twist like this before. No matter how they died, they all turned into one of those freaks.
Rick simply nodded in confirmation.
~*~*~*~
Daryl tried the door and found it unlocked, but instead of throwing it open, he knocked loudly on it and waited. If the lonely, abandoned cabin had any walkers trapped inside, they’d come forward at the noise. It was a trick the group had learned early on in their search for a place to lie down their heads at night. He held his hand up, keeping Rick and Glenn still and quiet, under his control until he was certain the cabin was truly empty. When nothing broke the silence from inside, he opened the door slowly and slipped inside, crossbow raised and loaded.
The stench hit his nostrils before he could actually see what the cabin had to offer. Rotting flesh hadn’t always been an odor Daryl recognized, but ever since the dead walked again, it was one that he couldn’t erase from his memory. It was like the smell of popcorn, he always knew what was creating the aroma. Beside him, Glenn dry heaved and quickly covered his mouth and nose with his empty hand, his gun still at the ready for any surprises.
A small family had opted out in their living room, their bodies sprawled around a rug and their guns dropped beside them. It was a sight one would have trouble erasing from their minds, but it was also a common thing to come across. Daryl glanced around the room quickly noting a broken window, a wood burning fireplace, and a staircase that led to the upstairs. Another door went out the back directly across from the front door and a kitchen veered off to the left. “Saw a shed out back,” he mentioned quietly, still observing the cabin at first glance. “I think this is a huntin’ cabin. Pretty big, but if the whole family did it…”
He moved forward through the house immediately taking the steps up to the second floor where he found three bedrooms and a bathroom. The bedrooms were small, but each had a double-sized bed, which was an improvement from their makeshift tents they slept in now. He returned to the ground floor and turned down another hall to find a master bedroom and another bathroom. Through another door, Daryl found steps to the basement, which he entered while turning on his flashlight.
The basement confirmed his suspicions as he found a gun safe and a wall of hooks where camouflage gear was hung. Nothing in this cabin was touched so far, so he wondered if the safe was full of weapons. All they needed was the combination. Taking the steps two at a time, Daryl met back up with Rick and Glenn in the living room with the desire to make this place their own for now. It was safe, probably the safest place they’d get for the winter.
“What do you think?” Rick turned to ask Daryl, including him in his and Glenn’s conversation.
Daryl began answering by pointing up. “Three rooms, three beds big enough for two. Maggie and Glenn, Beth and Hershel, Carol and T-Dog. You, Lori, and Carl can have the room back there, and I’ll take the couch. Gun safe in the basement, combo’s gotta be written down somewhere in here.
“It’d be good for us. Especially for Lori. All we gotta do is clean out the bodies and let the place air out while we go back for the rest of the group,” he concluded with a shrug of his shoulders. “Or we can keep sleepin’ in tents on the ground.”
And with Glenn’s and Rick’s agreement, the trio began clearing out the cabin.
~*~*~*~
Lori Grimes held her growing baby bump as she waddled through the cabin, which had a notable smell of corpse. Her son was at her side, lugging her things over his shoulder with some struggle, but he insisted on helping her move into their own bedroom. The rest of the group was doing the same, except for Daryl, who didn’t have much to pile on top of the coffee table he moved closer to his couch. The bloodstained rug had been rolled up and burned with the bodies during the cleanout, making the living space look a lot larger than it really was.
Satisfied with his room, Daryl moved on to the kitchen where he rummaged the drawers for the safe’s combination. It had to be somewhere, even if the combination was memorable by the family. They had to have it written down somewhere, especially with how sacred hunting seemed to be to them. He quickly found the junk drawer that held papers and pens, notebooks and batteries, junk that didn’t have a specific spot in a house besides in this drawer.
“Whatcha searchin’ for?” a voice startled Daryl, making him shiver from head to toe. He turned to find Beth approaching him with a curious look on her face. “Need a spatula?”
He shook his head and sighed quietly, going back to his search for the safe’s combination. “There’s a gun safe downstairs. I’m hopin’ it ain’t cleaned out already, but we need a combination if we plan on getting in it.”
“Is it like a locker lock?” the girl asked, a smile spreading quickly across her lips. “’Cause those ones are easy, ya just need a stethoscope and some patience.”
Daryl paused and looked at Beth, disbelief evident on his face. He always thought that was fiction, a method invented by Hollywood to depict burglars as masterminds, but here was Beth claiming that she could do it with a smile that told him she wasn’t kidding either. “Your dad still got his?” he asked, liking the idea of being the girl’s accomplice in cracking open the safe.
Within minutes of his question, Daryl found himself in the basement, holding the chest piece of the stethoscope against the safe while Beth listened and shifted the dial around. She already knew the combination from her first go around before being sent back to the farmhouse, but playing along was fun, too; especially with Daryl so eager to help her out. She’d done it before with Maggie’s safe while she was off at college, and used the money she collected slowly to buy herself a keyboard piano. But that safe didn’t have as many combinations as this one, so she played it up a little.
“Move your thumb,” Beth demanded as she spun the dial forward slowly. “It’s picking up your pulse.”
She smiled up at him and took his fingers, readjusting them so that he held the piece between his forefinger and middle finger. “Like a cigarette,” she explained, and then tapped the smaller end between his fingers. “That’s for pediatrics. Picks up sound, too.”
As time ticked by, she reversed the way she turned the dial and then finally finished with the third turn, hearing the lock click into place. “All done,” Beth announced, pulling the earpieces out of her ears and letting them wrap around her neck. “Try it.”
Daryl allowed the chest piece to drop and dangle from Beth’s neck as he turned the vault wheel and the safe opened. “You gotta be shittin’ me,” he commented in awe at her talents. Peering inside, he found thirteen rifles, a variety of pistols, and ammo. Lots of ammo. Copious amounts of ammo. So much ammo, he could bathe in it.
“Wow! We hit the jackpot,” Beth exclaimed as she counted the weapons and added the five guns they’d found with the family. “Oh, and Daryl? Maybe the combo is in the spice cabinet upstairs? I know that’s where my Daddy kept important things back at the house. Could be taped under the bottom shelf? I dunno.”
“It don’t matter now, Beth,” Daryl replied, reaching in for one of the pistols. “Go get Rick. He’s gonna piss himself with joy.”