In the Sound

The new world went quiet.

My fist collided with Daryl’s sallow cheek. I felt my knuckle bones pierce my skin, shredding cuts all over them. Daryl stumbled back awkwardly, his head knocked by the motion of my swing. His eye lids fluttered in a confused blink.

“The hell?” He growled in a low voice.

“Nora.” Rick warned heatedly, spinning around.

I slipped my fingers over the top of his shoulder, pulling him back in. My bloody knuckles swung again, pounding my bones deep near his temple. And that was it. His crossbow sailed to the floor before he did.

Rick tugged roughly on my shoulder, sending me back meters.

“Shit!” I howled.

My feet swayed around awkwardly. I shook my hand and looked down at my fist. The skin above every knuckle was bathed in red. I circled a grip around my wrist, trying to divert the pain.

“You done?” Rick asked, one hand on his holster, the other holding his hip.

I nodded, panting a little. My anger settled for now. I set my own hands on my hips and squinted my eyes at Daryl’s limp form.

“Is he dead?”

Rick seemed to mull over Daryl as well. “Just out cold.” Got shot in the head a couple’a days ago. Would’ve been surprised if you didn’t knock him out.” Rick rubbed his growing stubble a little.
Probably deserved it.

“He was out lookin’ for the girl we’ve lost. Been off his feet ever since. Probably a bit off his head too.”

“Isn’t an excuse for shooting my dog,” I argued, feeling the heat swell up in my chest.

Rick stressed a palm over his hair, flattening it a little. “No, it’s not,” He said in a final tone. “And I’ll make sure he knows it. We can work this out between you.” He brought his hand up in a stopping gesture again, and I guessed that he picked this up as a cop.

I shook my head, glancing back towards the porch of Herschel’s farm. There was no howling. No growling. Nothing that sounded like Kit was in pain. I wriggled my fingers around my wrist, brows knotted in worry.

“Nothin’ to work out, the way I see it. If Kit’s dead, I’ll strangle him in his sleep and then move on.” I motioned towards Daryl, embedded in the grass. “And if Kit’s alive, I’m moving on.”

"You told me, at the edge of the forest, that you hadn't killed anyone. Do you really wanna change that?"

"I'll do what I have to. But I'm not staying."

Rick sighed, disappointed. “Your choice.”

As though he heard me, Daryl stirred in the grass bed. He rolled over onto his back the way I imagined he would after a night of drinking. Daryl lifted his head from the ground slightly, eyes squinted and nose crinkled in a daze. His arm flailed out beside him, searching for his crossbow numbly.

“He’ll be wakin’ up with some vengeance,” Rick noted.

I wondered if he was directing it to me or himself. I took a hesitant step back, ready to take the brunt of whatever anger a hick could muster up. Daryl lifted his head up again, his strength struggling against gravity. His fingers tickling the crossbow to his side.

Daryl groaned, coming back to his senses piece by piece. I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. I hadn't punched a guy before. Especially not one who said he wasn't afraid of punching me back.

His dark eyes searching for me through little slits. When his bulbs finally found me, they widened a little. An expression I couldn’t read. A fix I just couldn’t make out. I didn’t know if he was angry. Confused. Surprised? Did hicks feel anything but stupid?

I almost scoffed at my own dark humour. Jesus, I was as sick as he was.

“Nora, darlin’.”

The porch of the Greene farm creaked, drawing my eyes towards it. The screen door peered open before a figure pushed on through it. Patricia ambled onto the porch, wiping her hands with a dirty handkerchief. Her thin lips were pursed together, eyes brimmed with awareness. They flickered between my own, Rick’s and Daryl’s.

“You’d better come inside.”