Chapter Text
The cold morning air settled against my skin, sharp enough to sting the tip of my nose already exposed to the wind. Spring had finally taken over the forest. Pale sunlight slipped through the branches overhead, casting thin rays of warmth across the dead leaves covering the ground. It would have been the perfect day to stay inside with a good book or my sketchbook, pretending the world outside no longer existed.
Instead, I was hunting.
I had been tracking the same deer for days now. Every morning I spotted it wandering near the treeline from the bell tower in my home, and every time I went after it, the damn thing disappeared before I could get close enough for a clean shot. Home. Funny word. Seven months ago, I would have laughed at the idea of having one.
Alexandria had changed that. Behind its steel walls, people slept peacefully, ate warm meals, and talked about tomorrow like it was guaranteed. It felt unnatural at first. Safe places didn't exist anymore. Not really. But after months on the road, after sleeping with one eye open every night, the community became the closest thing to safety I'd had since the world ended.
A low growl snapped me out of my thoughts. I stopped walking immediately.
"Great," I muttered under my breath.
A bitter stumbled out from between the trees a few feet ahead of me. Tall. Thin. Half its clothes were torn open, exposing rotting flesh underneath. It dragged one leg behind itself as it moved closer, jaw twitching with wet snarls. Judging by how sunken in it looked, it hadn't eaten in weeks.
I reached behind my shoulder and pulled an arrow from my quiver in one smooth motion. The bowstring tightened beneath my fingers. My entire body shifted with the weapon automatically, muscles moving from pure habit. I inhaled slowly, held my breath for half a second, then released.
The arrow cut through the cold air and buried itself straight through the walker's skull. A perfect shot, wasted on a corpse. The body collapsed against the forest floor with a dull thud. I lowered my bow before giving a short, sharp whistle.
A few seconds later, movement rustled through the bushes nearby. Kaynine burst out from the trees at full speed, practically bouncing through the undergrowth. My Breton Spaniel skidded to a stop in front of me, tail wagging so hard her entire body moved with it. White fur covered most of her body except for the large brown patches scattered across her back and ears. She looked more like a tiny cow than a hunting dog.
"There you are," I said, crouching slightly as she jumped against me with her front paws reaching my neck. "Who's a good dog, huh?"
Kaynine barked proudly before dropping a dead squirrel at my feet.
"Seriously?"
I laughed quietly and grabbed the squirrel by the tail before stuffing it into my worn brown backpack. Muddy pawprints covered the front of my black hoodie now. I brushed at them halfheartedly before looking down at my faded green cargo pants. Everything I owned was either ripped, dirty, or held together by luck at this point.
I sighed.
"We should head back."
Kaynine immediately fell into step beside me as we started through the woods again. On the way back, I checked the traps I had set earlier that week. Empty. Every single one of them.
"Unbelievable."
The deeper we moved through the forest, the colder the air became. Wind slipped between the trees hard enough to make the branches creak overhead. Somewhere far off in the distance, walkers groaned through the woods. Another sound answered from deeper in the forest — probably a wild animal. At this point, it barely mattered which one found you first. I pulled my hood over my head and zipped up my dark brown leather jacket higher against the cold. Eventually, the trees began to thin, revealing the cracked remains of the road leading back home.
Kaynine stayed close to my heels while we walked. I found her during a supply run months ago. She had been starving, ribs visible beneath dirty fur, barely able to stand on her own. I honestly didn't think she would survive the trip back to Alexandria. Now she was healthier than most people inside the walls. A red bandana sat around her neck, almost completely hidden beneath her fur. She had a weird talent for sniffing out canned food during runs, especially peas for some reason.
After about thirty minutes of walking, Alexandria finally came into view. But something immediately felt wrong. The gates were open, and cars were pulling inside. My pace quickened instantly, boots crunching against the pavement as my chest tightened. For one horrible second, I thought the walls had fallen. Then I spotted Aaron near the entrance, helping close the gate behind the vehicles.
Relief hit me so hard it almost made me dizzy.
"Gin!" Aaron smiled the second he saw me and immediately pulled me into a quick hug. "Did you finally get that deer?"
"If I had, you'd see me dragging it behind me," I answered swiftly, stepping out of his grip. "What's going on? Who are these people?"
"We found a group," he said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. "A big one. Good people. I think they can help us."
I couldn't help smiling a little. This was what Aaron had always wanted. A real community. Enough people to survive anything the world threw at us. He was also the reason I ended up in Alexandria in the first place.
Aaron found me outside Richmond during one of his runs. Maybe because people thought I always looked irritated. Or maybe because I constantly reminded everyone that the people inside Alexandria needed to learn how to defend themselves. That suggestion usually got shut down within seconds, more times than I can count.
Alexandria still felt unreal sometimes.
The streets were clean. The houses looked untouched by the apocalypse, painted in soft colors with trimmed lawns and glowing porch lights. At night, electricity still lit up the neighborhood like the old world had never disappeared. The air smelled like cut grass instead of blood. People slept without hearing biters outside their doors. It was almost enough to make you forget what waited beyond the walls.
Almost.
I headed toward the armory to drop off my weapons. Carrying them around inside the community made people nervous. As I walked, I looked over the newcomers more carefully. There were a lot of them, around fourteen.
A redheaded man covered in freckles walked near the back beside a tanned-skinned woman with two ponytails. Both looked exhausted, their weapons hanging low near the ground. Another woman with dark skin wore green clothes beneath an oversized coat that nearly swallowed her whole.
Nearby, a couple walked hand in hand — a skinny Asian man beside a short-haired woman — with a younger dark-skinned guy close beside them.
Further ahead, a Black man dressed like a priest walked next to a shorter brunette woman with a heavier build and another tiny woman with short white hair.
At the front of the group was a bearded man with streaks of gray in his hair, holding a silver Colt Python. Beside him walked a dark-skinned woman carrying a katana across her back. A kid wearing a sheriff's hat carried a baby while a tall man with slicked-back hair walked nearby.
Then there was he. He stayed near the back of the group, separate from the others, without actually leaving them behind. My eyes landed on him immediately.
Unlike everyone else, he wasn't distracted by the walls or the houses. He studied everything carefully. Every street. Every window. Every person.
Dark hair fell messily around his face, long enough for his bangs to nearly cover his eyes. A crossbow rested easily in his grip, arrows with green and white fletching strapped across the front of the crossbow. His black clothes were ripped and stained with dirt and dried blood. Over them sat a worn leather vest with angel wings stitched across the back. He walked slowly, shoulders tense, like he was waiting for something bad to happen.
Then he looked up. His eyes locked directly onto mine. Blue. Sharp enough to make my stomach tighten unexpectedly.
We stared at each other for several long seconds without speaking. His expression stayed guarded, almost suspicious, but there was exhaustion buried underneath it. The kind that never really went away anymore.
This group looked dangerous. Experienced. Like they actually knew how to survive outside the walls.
"Gin."
A voice snapped me out of it. I turned toward Olivia, realizing too late that she had apparently been talking to me this entire time. Her narrowed eyes stared at me impatiently behind her glasses.
"Well?" she asked, tapping her foot against the pavement.
"Sorry," I said flatly. "Didn't hear a word you said."
She sighed dramatically.
"If this is about the deer, no, I didn't catch it. And if this is about the bow, I'm already taking it to the armory." I said annoyed
Olivia always had something to complain about.
I brushed past her and glanced back toward the new group. Nicholas had already started arguing with them. Probably about the weapons.
Soon they'd end up at Deanna's house for the interviews. That was how Alexandria worked. Questions first. Trust later.
I searched for the archer again. But his attention had already shifted somewhere else, eyes scanning every corner of the street like he expected the walls themselves to collapse around him.
I pulled my bow over my shoulder and turned toward the armory without another word.
The gates started opening before I even stepped outta the car. Big steel walls. Clean paint. Guards on watch. Whole damn place looked fake.
Nobody in the group said much while we walked in behind Aaron. Didn't need to. We were all thinkin' the same thing. It was too quiet.
After everything outside those walls — the road, the cold nights, Terminus, the hospital, losing Beth — this place didn't feel real. Streets were clean. Grass was trimmed. Hell, people were actually standin' outside talkin' like the dead weren't walkin' around a few miles away. My hand tightened around the crossbow automatically. Rick kept movin' ahead, eyes sharp. Michonne stayed close beside him with one hand near her katana. Everybody was tense. Ready.
People get careless when they feel safe. I kept my eyes movin' while we walked deeper into the neighborhood. Windows. Roofs. Corners. Weak spots in the walls. Anything that could get us killed if this place turned bad.
Then I saw her.
A girl standing near one of the houses with a bow strapped over her shoulder. At first, I only noticed the weapon. The way she carried it told me enough already. Comfortable grip. Relaxed shoulders. Actual hunter, not someone playin' dress-up like half these people probably were.
Dark hoodie under a worn leather jacket. Green cargo pants faded from use. Mud on her boots. A dog circled near her legs before stopping beside her.
Unlike everybody else starin' at us, she didn't look nervous. She looked interested. Curious, maybe. But careful. Her eyes moved over the group slowly, studying people one by one. When they landed on me, they stopped completely.
I lifted my head a little, but she didn't look away. Most people did, especially inside places like this. But she just stood there holdin' my stare like she was tryin' to figure out whether I was dangerous or not.
Smart girl.
I glanced over the rest of the street again before lookin' back at her. Still starin'.
There was dirt smudged across one side of her jacket sleeve, and a couple of loose strands of hair kept movin' in the wind around her face. Didn't look polished like the others around here. Didn't carry herself like them either. She looked like somebody who'd actually survived outside these walls. That caught my attention more than I wanted it to.
Aaron kept talkin' about how safe Alexandria was while we walked, but I barely listened. My focus kept driftin' back toward her.
The dog beside her wagged its tail once before sniffin' the air in our direction. Probably smelled the walkers all over us. Hell, probably smelled blood too. The woman kept watchin' me. Felt strange.
I finally broke eye contact long enough to check the rooftops again. Habit. Couldn't help it. The place was too open. Too clean. Too many blind spots hidden behind all that fake suburban bullshit.
A man started runnin' his mouth nearby about turnin' over weapons. I barely paid attention.
My eyes found her again automatically. She'd moved a little closer to the armory now, one hand gripping the strap of her bow while some woman with glasses talked at her. Didn't seem like she was listenin'. Then she looked back at me again.
I frowned slightly and looked away first this time. Didn't trust this place. Didn't trust these people. But somethin' about her felt different from the rest. Less soft. Like she already knew what the world really looked like outside those walls.
"This your first time seein' people?" Abraham snapped.
The man ignored the comment completely, eyes locked on Rick's revolver. He was wearing an orange shirt that looked disgusting.
"Weapons stay here until Deanna finishes the interviews."
Rick didn't move. Neither did the rest of us. The street suddenly felt too small.
I shifted my grip on the crossbow slightly while watchin' the guy in front of us. Nicholas looked nervous underneath all that attitude. The kinda nervous that made people dangerous. Sweat gathered around his forehead even though the air was cold. He kept glancin' at our weapons. At Rick, especially.
"We're not givin' up our guns," Rick said flatly.
A few people nearby stopped what they were doing to stare. Nicholas puffed himself up a little, probably thinkin' havin' walls behind him made him important.
"You wanna stay here, you follow the rules."
Rick stepped closer before anybody else could answer.
"We just walked through your gates alive. That means we know how to survive out there. Those guns are the reason my people are breathin' right now."
Nobody talked for a second. I could already tell this place wasn't used to confrontation. Half the Alexandrians nearby looked like they were waitin' for somebody to break up a fight at a damn grocery store instead of the apocalypse.
Then Aaron stepped between them quickly.
"Hey, hey." He raised his hands calmly toward the man before lookin' at Rick. "It's fine, Nicholas. Deanna wants to see all of you now anyway."
Nicholas frowned immediately. "Aaron—"
"She said leave them alone."
That shut him up fast. I glanced toward the girl with the bow again outta instinct. She stood further down the street now without her bow, watching the whole thing unfold. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. Didn't look surprised by any of it; if anything, she looked annoyed.
Aaron started leading us deeper into Alexandria while the others slowly lowered their guard a little. Not much. Just enough to keep moving. I stayed near the back of the group.
The girl finally turned away following a street near the houses. The dog beside her noticed me starin' and barked once quietly.
I looked away first. Didn't know why that bothered me.
—
Deanna Monroe's house was bigger than any place I'd set foot in since before the world ended. Clean walls. Real furniture. Family pictures. The whole thing made my skin crawl.
One by one, she interviewed us separately with a camera pointed right at our faces. Said it helped people "adjust."
Bullshit. Felt more like bein' interrogated. When it was finally my turn, I walked inside and immediately leaned against the wall furthest from the camera.
Deanna sat comfortably in a chair across from me, holding a notebook. She smiled politely. I didn't smile back.
"You can sit if you'd like."
"I'm good."
She studied me quietly for a second before nodding.
"Daryl, right?"
"Yeah," I said without looking at her
"You've been with Rick's group for a long time?"
"Long enough."
The camera kept recording. I hated it already. Deanna didn't seem bothered by the silence, though. She just kept watching me carefully like she was tryin' to solve a puzzle.
"You hunt?" she asked after noticing the crossbow.
"Mhm."
"Aaron mentioned you're one of the reasons the group survived this long."
I shrugged.
"Ain't just me."
"But you help."
Another shrug.
Outside the window behind her, I could see part of the street. Kids riding bikes. People talking. Normal. Or at least pretending to be.
"You don't seem comfortable here," Deanna said carefully.
"Should I be?" I barked.
That made her pause. I finally pushed myself off the wall slightly and glanced toward the camera.
"People here ain't ready." As I said, her expression tightened just a little.
"We've survived this long."
"Behind walls."
"We have systems." She replied with haste.
I almost laughed at that.
"Walkers get in, your people die."
Deanna stayed quiet.
"They don't know what it's really like out there," I continued. "World ain't what it used to be anymore. Can't keep pretendin' it is."
For the first time since entering the room, she looked genuinely unsettled. Not offended. Just aware of the words coming out of my mouth.
Then she asked, "And what about you? Do you think you can live here?"
I thought about the clean houses outside. The quiet streets. The girl with the bow.
"Don't know yet," I muttered honestly.
Deanna nodded slowly, like that answer made more sense to her than anything else I'd said.
The interview ended a few minutes later. As soon as I stepped back outside, the cold air hit my face again. Almost immediately, my eyes searched the street for her without me meaning to.
Once the gates closed behind the newcomers and Aaron guided them toward Deanna's house, the streets slowly returned to normal. Well, as normal as Alexandria could get. People whispered from their porches. Curious glances followed the new group down the road before doors eventually shut again. The whole community always reacted the same way whenever outsiders arrived — nervous excitement mixed with fear.
I adjusted the bow on my shoulder and headed toward the armory. Olivia was still there organizing shelves when I walked in.
"Took you long enough," she muttered without looking up.
I ignored her completely and leaned my bow carefully against the wall beside the rest of the weapons.
The second I stepped back outside, the cold air hit my damp skin again. Night was coming fast now, the sky turning gray-blue above the houses. Kaynine followed closely behind me while we walked home. My house sat further away from the center of Alexandria, tucked near the outer edge of the neighborhood. Most people preferred staying closer together.
I preferred space.
The wooden steps creaked beneath my boots as I climbed onto the porch. I crouched down to untie my laces before leaving my muddy boots near the front door. Kaynine immediately pushed past me the second I opened it. Warm air wrapped around me instantly; the chimney still had a bit of flames going on.
Home.
Books were stacked everywhere — on shelves, tables, even beside the couch in uneven piles. Some were old novels I found during runs, others were survival guides, anatomy books, manuals about mechanics and electricity. The walls held small sketches pinned beside shelves and windows. Charcoal drawings of forests, animals, walkers, and sometimes people I saw during runs. A few small plants sat near the windows, their leaves catching the dim yellow light from the lamps. I liked taking care of them. Keeping something alive felt important these days.
Near the corner of the living room sat my workbench covered in wires, tools, batteries, and scraps of electronics I'd salvaged over the last few months. Alexandria had electricity, but most people didn't understand how fragile that made them.
I liked understanding how things worked, and it was useful to have an approximate knowledge of many things; it could save your life.
Kaynine jumped onto the couch immediately before curling into herself with a tired huff.
"Hard day hunting squirrels?" I asked dryly.
Her tail thumped once against the cushions.
I shrugged off my jacket and headed to revive the flames of the iron chimney, then I stepped into the kitchen. The squirrel Kaynine caught earlier sat wrapped in cloth inside my backpack. Not exactly a feast, but enough. I cleaned and prepared the meat quickly before tossing it into a pot alongside canned peas, potatoes, carrots, and the last of the broth I had left. I never really liked eating those, but I'm not about to let them go to waste. The smell slowly filled the kitchen as it started simmering.
For the first time all day, I relaxed a little. While the stew cooked, I headed upstairs to shower. Hot water was still something I hadn't fully gotten used to. Steam filled the small bathroom while dirt and dried blood washed down the drain. By the time I finished, my muscles finally stopped aching from the cold.
I changed into softer clothes afterward — gray sweatpants and an oversized black shirt with a Genesis, my favorite band, stamp on it, the shirt hung loosely around my shoulders. Downstairs, Kaynine hadn't moved from the couch except to crack one eye open when I entered the kitchen again.
"Lazy."
I grabbed an old kettle from the stove and started making coffee while the stew continued bubbling softly nearby. Outside, darkness had completely settled over Alexandria now. The porch lights across the street glowed warm against the night while insects buzzed faintly somewhere beyond the walls.
Coffee mug in one hand, sketchbook tucked beneath my arm, I stepped outside onto the porch. I immediately noticed the new group. Aaron had apparently finished showing them around. People moved in and out of the houses diagonal from mine, carrying bags and supplies. Some looked overwhelmed by the size of the homes. Others still looked suspicious.
Then my eyes found him automatically. The man with the crossbow stood near the porch of the house Aaron assigned him. There was the shorter woman, who was beside him, saying something quietly, but he barely seemed to hear her.
He was watching the neighborhood again.
I lowered myself onto the wooden steps of my porch, coffee warming my hands against the cold while Kaynine curled beside the door behind me. My sketchbook rested across my knees as I flipped it open, pencils rolled slightly against the page before I grabbed one.
Across the street, the archer finally looked in my direction again.
There it was. That same guarded expression. Like he expected trouble from every shadow. I should've looked away this time. Instead, I kept staring for a second too long before glancing down at the blank page in my lap. The tip of my pencil hovered there quietly.
Then, almost without thinking, I started sketching the outline of a crossbow.
By the time Deanna finally finished questioning everybody, the sun had already disappeared behind the walls. The whole neighborhood looked different at night.
Porch lights glowed across the street, soft yellow against the dark. Music played faintly somewhere nearby. People laughed inside their homes like the world outside Alexandria didn't exist anymore. Didn't sit right with me.
Aaron walked ahead of us while explaining which houses we'd be staying in. Rick barely listened. Neither did I.
"Well," he said carefully, trying to sound relaxed, "we set up a few houses for you guys already."
"A few?" Rick asked.
"There was enough room to split everyone comfortably."
Nobody answered. Truth was, after spendin' months sleepin' shoulder-to-shoulder on hard floors and abandoned cars, the idea of separate houses felt strange as hell.
Aaron pointed toward a pale blue house near the middle of the street.
"Rick, Carl, Judith, and Michonne will stay there."
A little further down, another house.
"Glenn, Maggie, Tara, and Noah."
Then another.
"Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, and Sasha."
I stayed near the back with my crossbow hanging loose against my shoulder while Aaron kept talking about running water and electricity like he was introducing us to heaven. Then he stopped in front of a smaller house near the edge of the street.
"This one's yours," Aaron said eventually, stopping in front of a small white house near the edge of the neighborhood. "You and Carol."
I looked over it silently. The porch looked sturdy enough. Windows weren't boarded. Curtains instead of sheets. Real furniture visible inside.
Carol stepped onto the porch beside me while Aaron kept talking about electricity and hot water, but I'd already stopped listening.
Something across the street caught my eye.
A smaller house sat diagonally from ours near the outer edge of Alexandria, separated from the others by a stretch of cracked pavement and overgrown grass. Unlike the rest of the neighborhood, it didn't look polished. No decorative lights. No flowers. No fake suburban bullshit.
There were muddy boots left near the front porch. Hunting traps stacked near the railing. Wind chimes moved quietly in the breeze above the entrance. Through the front window, I caught glimpses of books piled across shelves and tables.
Then the front door opened.
Her.
The girl stepped outside holding a steaming mug in one hand and a sketchbook tucked beneath her arm. A dog followed behind her before immediately curling up beside the doorway. She'd changed clothes since earlier. A loose dark shirt with some yellow drawing on it. Gray sweatpants. Hair still slightly damp, like she'd just showered.
For a second, she didn't notice me.
She sat down on the porch steps quietly, setting the mug beside her before opening the sketchbook across her knees. Then she looked up. Straight at me again. I leaned back slightly against the porch railing without breaking eye contact.
The dog lifted its head briefly before settling back down once it realized I wasn't moving.
"She's been here around seven months," Aaron said suddenly beside me, following my line of sight. "Name's Gin."
I grunted quietly.
"She was in very bad shape when I found her, didn't talk for a month, and when she finally did, it was to flip on Nicholas over the weapons," he continued. "Anyways, she is a good friend of mine and Eric now, really fun once you get to know her, but never play that game of cards with her, you will lose everything you got," he couldn't stop talking about her, and I couldn't stop looking. "Hunts outside the walls almost every day. She's been chasing a deer, but we think it's just an excuse to get out."
That explained the bow. The way she carried herself, too. Even sitting relaxed on those porch steps, she looked aware of everything around her. Shoulders loose but ready. Eyes always moving slightly before returning to me again. Carol noticed it too. I could feel the damn smirk forming on her face before she even spoke.
"You gonna keep starin' all night?"
I shot her an annoyed look immediately.
"Ain't starin'."
"Mhm."
I ignored her.
Across the street, Gin lowered her eyes toward the sketchbook in her lap. The porch light beside her illuminated part of the page while her pencil finally started moving. Slow, and focused strokes on the paper.
I frowned slightly. Something about her felt strange.
Aaron finally headed off toward another house, leaving Carol and me alone on the porch.
The second Carol stepped inside the house, she let out a quiet laugh.
"A shower," she muttered, almost disbelieving. "Can't remember the last time I had one without worrying somebody was gonna kill us halfway through."
I stayed near the front door. The house smelled clean. Laundry detergent, dust, old wood, nothing rotten, nothing damp.
Carol disappeared upstairs without waiting for me while I stayed planted near the entrance, crossbow still hanging from my shoulder. My eyes moved automatically through the living room. Big couch and bookshelves with family pictures still sitting on tables like the people who used to live here had just stepped out for groceries instead of dying years ago.
I slowly set my bag down beside the couch, but didn't take the vest off yet. Couldn't. Felt like if I relaxed for one second, something bad would happen.
The lights overhead buzzed softly. Electricity, still weird as hell.
I walked into the kitchen carefully, checking the back door before looking through the sink window toward the street outside. There she was again. Gin sat on the porch across from ours beneath the warm porch light, sketchbook resting against her knees while steam curled from the coffee mug in her hands. Her dog slept beside the doorway behind her, barely moving. She looked comfortable out there.
Then she looked up suddenly. Caught me staring through the damn window. I stepped away immediately with a low grunt under my breath.
Upstairs, pipes groaned loudly before water started running. Carol's shower. The sound alone made something twist uncomfortably in my chest. I glanced toward the staircase for a long second before looking back down at the dirt caked across my hands and sleeves. Dried blood stained the edge of my shirt. Mud covered my boots. The idea of standing under hot water after weeks on the road felt wrong. Like pretending everything we'd survived wasn't still sitting right outside those walls waiting for us. People died when they got comfortable, I knew that better than anybody.
My fingers tightened slightly against the strap of the crossbow. Could still hear Beth's voice sometimes. The funeral home.
"Still gotta have somethin' worth fightin' for."
Jaw tightening, I pushed the thought away immediately. Didn't wanna think about her here. Didn't wanna think about any of it.
The bathroom upstairs finally went quiet after a while, followed by Carol's footsteps moving across the floor. A few minutes later, she came downstairs wearing clean clothes borrowed from Alexandria. Her hair was still damp. She stopped when she noticed I hadn't moved much.
"You seriously haven't put that thing down yet?"
I ignored her. Carol crossed her arms lightly against the kitchen doorway before glancing toward the stairs.
"There's soap, Daryl."
"Mhm."
"You smell awful."
"Good."
That earned me a small smirk.
"You afraid the shower's gonna kill you?"
"Ain't stayin'," I muttered quietly.
Carol's expression softened just slightly.
"Maybe not," she said. "But you can still take a shower."
I exhaled sharply through my nose. Didn't answer. For another few seconds, I just stood there listening to the silence filling the house. Carol disappeared upstairs again, my eyes drifted back toward the porch across the street almost immediately. Outside the walls, the world was still rotting. But sitting there in the dark, watching that girl quietly draw on her porch with her dog sleeping beside her, Alexandria almost looked peaceful enough to believe in for a minute.
Almost.