In the Sound

The car halted to a stop, tyres screeching on the gravel.

Everyone’s seatbelts were whizzing back up, their chairs squeaking as they rocked themselves onto their feet.

I waited.

Lori and Carl strode up first, their fingers entwined. Her brown curls were ragged and frayed here and there, her face a little grimy. Rick ducked out of the car first, slamming his door with a loud clack. Carl broke away, scrambling into a delightful run. Grimes raised one arm out to his son and cradled his head. He guided Carl into his pace, flinging the other arm around Lori’s tattered hair.

They were just grateful. Of every breath, every touch, every kiss. I couldn’t help but feel my heart tingle at that.
The rest of the group spilt out of the barn and from the scattered tents like tidal waves.

I ruffled the back of Kit’s ears to wake him up, weaving my other hand through the handle and clicking it open. Kit heaved himself to his feet and bobbed out of the car, swaying in a sleepy walk.

Maggie sighed loudly, her quirky hair bouncing up and down as she skipped over. I watched her pass Herschel and melt into Glenn’s arms. It was incredibly awkward, especially to those who were watching Herschel’s face turn into a tomato.

Glenn shifted uncomfortably under Maggie’s weight. Hiding behind the two tall guns, was a sour face. I watched him choke. Choke up awkwardly and push passed her instead. Guess he was all talk and no bones to back himself up.

“Patricia, clear the shed for surgery,” ordered Herschel strictly.

Glenn strayed out of the group’s circle, his back towards us.

There was a tense hold in his shoulders. The squeaky door of the Greene barn was shrieking behind Herschel, who was tailed by Patricia and Jimmy. Maggie lingered, both brows knotted in confusion, her heart was burning in her dark eyes.

For the briefest second, I turned to Randall. He was quiet, his head tilted slightly to my side.

“It’s me. We need to talk,” I whispered underneath my breath. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to form some of his uneven words. “But not here,” I intercepted. “Not now.”

Randall didn’t respond, but his breath grew harsher.

With that, I slipped out of the seat and onto my feet. I could hear his high pitched whimper as I did.

I edged close to the circle of the group, kicking the car door shut behind me. My thighs were sore as I tip toed over, feet muffled by the wet grass beneath me. Dale, the blonde woman, and T-Dog were huddled in one corner of the group. The blonde lady fingered a hefty gun that was strapped over her shoulder. There was a prude purse at her lips.

Gulping awkwardly, I slowly crept towards the Grimes family. All wrapped up in themselves anyway.

Nobody came to hug me. Nobody came to cradle my head.

Carl was bringing Kit’s neck up close to his, his pale arms shaking around Kit’s caramel fur. The dog loved it. No surprises. Shane was rubbing his palm against his bald head, tongue forked between his lips. He eyed Rick and Lori with the darkest glare, bulbs brimming with disgust.

And then I saw him.

Daryl met my gaze hard. My heart fluttered, stomach churning in sickness. I drew away instantly, insanely mortified he caught me looking at him. But I felt it. Felt the hard, expressionless stare he was still folding over me.

So I stole another look. Big mistake.

His sallow cheeks were pinched up a little, as though he was squinting away from a pesky bug or something. The tussled dark hair that shadowed his skull flicked out over his forehead. His crossbow was hunched over his shoulder, dangling just by the lock of his gripping fingers. A set of thin, wooden arrows prodded out of it. And his eyes. Eyes that were laced with a feisty, angry fire. It spread over his features in less than a second.

I felt uneasy. Under water.

“Who in the hell is that?” T-Dog’s arm was lazily gesturing towards the red car, his tone booming out over the group.

Heads turned in unison. I took the small chance to drive my aching eyes away from Daryl’s, letting my lashes kiss the tops of my cheeks again.

Glenn peeked over his shoulder casually, “It’s Randall.”

In a numbing hush, the scattered group scampered around the car. All but one. I found myself staring back into his hollow face, those bulbs toasting mine with intensity. Dixon stayed still, his body half leaning on one leg. His crossbow still perched over his shoulder.

Daryl lifted his chin to me. A soft, short twitch, and gestured towards his tent.