Status: Am still trying to write, but school is keeping me really busy
Hopeless Wanderer
Fifteen
Sometime in the night the sheriff stirred. If he would just retire to his own cot I could probably sneak out and be long gone by sunrise. Instead, he quietly came in. I pretended to be asleep but flinched at the warmth of his hand against my shoulder. He leaned in even closer, and the fear began to seep back in.
“It’s my turn for watch, will you come with me?” I tried refusing multiple times until he made it very clear he wasn’t actually asking. Apparently you make one escape attempt that harms absolutely nobody and you become a dangerous threat again. Knowing the way, he made me take the lead, but only after stripping me of any potential weaponry. Once he dismissed Maggie and Glenn he herded me up into the tower where he could control the only exit.
“You could still let me go. You know I would never do anything to hurt Carl. Or your baby.” He let silence be his response. “You could always shoot me. It’d be fast. You could pretend you thought you saw something and it was only an accident.” He watched me patiently like a parent watching a tantrum throwing child. “The least you could do is put that axe in my skull.” He was doing a pretty good job of not letting me phase him. Maybe it was his practice as a dad or his police training keeping him calm. “Or, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous, you could snap my neck and screw me until I turn.” Even in the moonlight I could see I’d finally shocked him. Pete had mused that little gem into my ear right before. Only after he’d finished did I start to wish he had.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he spat out. He ran a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at me. He continued considerably more calm. “Can we just talk?” I shrugged. He could talk all he wanted to. "You know he's not out there, right?" My jaw clenched against an angry outburst. No, actually. I did not know that and neither did he. Pain painted his next expression. "Listen, I know what you're going through. When Lori died..." he stopped, unable to finish his thought outloud.
What I wanted to say was that he had no idea what I was going through. His wife was dead and in the ground. My Will could be anything, anywhere. I had to look at all those dead people clustered around the fence and try to find him. I had to see all these live people in here and wonder if one of the delivered the final fatal blow. I have to face my hallucination and wonder if maybe I'm not just seeing things. Rick had peace while I had nothing. Instead, what I said was nothing. Rick said nothing. We sat in the tower staring out over Rick's empire until Daryl came out. Rick tried to usher me down the ladder first.
"Actually, if its ok with Daryl, I wouldn't mind staying out here." Daryl looked to me with a mix of surprise and discomfort. Rick saw it too and began to object. Daryl saved me with a shrug.
"I guess it's cool if she wants to stay." Of course Rick gave him a pretty threatening look that I imagined to say 'don't even think about letting her out of your sight', a duty he seemed to accept with another shrug. After another look between us he left knowing any objection he wanted to make would sound unreasonable.
"Why do you even want to be out here, anyway," Daryl came right out and asked. He wasn't looking at me. Instead he focused on the blade of the knife he was sharpening.
"Do you even care?" He shook his head so I shrugged. "Then it doesn't really matter." I didn't want to go back inside to be a prisoner to somebody just as messed up as I was. I definitely didn't want to stay under the watchful eyes of a man I mistakenly thought was my friend. Even in the apocalypse I'm pretty sure a friend isn't supposed to turn on you for slipping one shameful secret.
Daryl sharpened while I brooded. It sounded familiar. My brain struggled to process a memory from a lifetime ago but that methodic sound kept pounding in my mind, slowly bringing a full memory back to me. The sound reminded me of my grandpa doing the same thing at our kitchen table the night before he would take my dad and uncle out deer hunting. After my grandma and aunt cleared away the bowls of chili from the dinner table, Grandpa would pull a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. My aunt had a strict no smoking in the house policy. Except for Grandpa. Hearing Daryl move on to another knife I could just about smell the Marlboro menthols.
"Hey, Daryl, I know we don't really know each other, but can I ask you a favor?" He lifted his eyes from his work and just stared at me, waiting for me to speak. "Can you show me how to do that?" He looked at me, flipping his hair out of his face. He studied me, looking for I don’t know what. With another shrug, he silently set to work showing me how to sharpen his knives.
“It’s my turn for watch, will you come with me?” I tried refusing multiple times until he made it very clear he wasn’t actually asking. Apparently you make one escape attempt that harms absolutely nobody and you become a dangerous threat again. Knowing the way, he made me take the lead, but only after stripping me of any potential weaponry. Once he dismissed Maggie and Glenn he herded me up into the tower where he could control the only exit.
“You could still let me go. You know I would never do anything to hurt Carl. Or your baby.” He let silence be his response. “You could always shoot me. It’d be fast. You could pretend you thought you saw something and it was only an accident.” He watched me patiently like a parent watching a tantrum throwing child. “The least you could do is put that axe in my skull.” He was doing a pretty good job of not letting me phase him. Maybe it was his practice as a dad or his police training keeping him calm. “Or, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous, you could snap my neck and screw me until I turn.” Even in the moonlight I could see I’d finally shocked him. Pete had mused that little gem into my ear right before. Only after he’d finished did I start to wish he had.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he spat out. He ran a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at me. He continued considerably more calm. “Can we just talk?” I shrugged. He could talk all he wanted to. "You know he's not out there, right?" My jaw clenched against an angry outburst. No, actually. I did not know that and neither did he. Pain painted his next expression. "Listen, I know what you're going through. When Lori died..." he stopped, unable to finish his thought outloud.
What I wanted to say was that he had no idea what I was going through. His wife was dead and in the ground. My Will could be anything, anywhere. I had to look at all those dead people clustered around the fence and try to find him. I had to see all these live people in here and wonder if one of the delivered the final fatal blow. I have to face my hallucination and wonder if maybe I'm not just seeing things. Rick had peace while I had nothing. Instead, what I said was nothing. Rick said nothing. We sat in the tower staring out over Rick's empire until Daryl came out. Rick tried to usher me down the ladder first.
"Actually, if its ok with Daryl, I wouldn't mind staying out here." Daryl looked to me with a mix of surprise and discomfort. Rick saw it too and began to object. Daryl saved me with a shrug.
"I guess it's cool if she wants to stay." Of course Rick gave him a pretty threatening look that I imagined to say 'don't even think about letting her out of your sight', a duty he seemed to accept with another shrug. After another look between us he left knowing any objection he wanted to make would sound unreasonable.
"Why do you even want to be out here, anyway," Daryl came right out and asked. He wasn't looking at me. Instead he focused on the blade of the knife he was sharpening.
"Do you even care?" He shook his head so I shrugged. "Then it doesn't really matter." I didn't want to go back inside to be a prisoner to somebody just as messed up as I was. I definitely didn't want to stay under the watchful eyes of a man I mistakenly thought was my friend. Even in the apocalypse I'm pretty sure a friend isn't supposed to turn on you for slipping one shameful secret.
Daryl sharpened while I brooded. It sounded familiar. My brain struggled to process a memory from a lifetime ago but that methodic sound kept pounding in my mind, slowly bringing a full memory back to me. The sound reminded me of my grandpa doing the same thing at our kitchen table the night before he would take my dad and uncle out deer hunting. After my grandma and aunt cleared away the bowls of chili from the dinner table, Grandpa would pull a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. My aunt had a strict no smoking in the house policy. Except for Grandpa. Hearing Daryl move on to another knife I could just about smell the Marlboro menthols.
"Hey, Daryl, I know we don't really know each other, but can I ask you a favor?" He lifted his eyes from his work and just stared at me, waiting for me to speak. "Can you show me how to do that?" He looked at me, flipping his hair out of his face. He studied me, looking for I don’t know what. With another shrug, he silently set to work showing me how to sharpen his knives.