Starting Over

You had actually found a good amount of weapons and ammo in that house. Daryl said they were a bunch of white trash with money, but you just thought the average southern american had a shit ton of guns. You'd managed to knock out the whole weapon thing in one go, which only left meds and other stuff like food.

Eventually, Daryl just stopped talking all together as you two continued the search. You kind of felt like it was your fault by messing with him like that earlier. You actually hoped he was looking at you, but you couldn't admit that. To him or yourself.

As you scoured through the kitchen of a smaller house you could hear the soft footfalls of Daryl above. You began to wonder how he managed to be so quiet. He was fairly large and even wore heavy boots. His ability of staying silent was mind blowing, and you had experience of your own but it wasn't that good.

Out of nowhere, a walker falls out of a closet, that you so stupidly forgot to check, right on top of you. His jaws snapped at you like a savage dog as you tried to hold him back. You'd dropped your knife a few feet away when you fell leaving you defenseless.

Well, this was the shitiest way to die. Your arms started to ache from fighting it off, and you began doubting yourself. Its arms reached out to you with skin hanging off. It was pretty disgusting and if it didn't get you, choking on your own vomit would.

Then without warning, the zombie falls limp and is no longer biting. You see an arrow sticking straight through its head and look over at Daryl storming toward you.
"What the hell, Y/N?! How did ya not see 'em?" Throwing the body to the side you scramble to stand up and stare back at him.

"I...I'm sorry. I wasn't...I wasn't thinking." You stammer after picking up your knife. He grabs your shoulders, "Don't do that again. I might not be there to save ya ass."

Daryl storms off, and you're left there wondering why in the hell he was worried so much about you. He'd never acted like this before. That look he gave you. It...it almost looked like he cared.

You shook that away and grabbed the full bag of supplies. When you got outside Daryl was standing as straight as a post staring off into the woods. Then you saw it. There were dozens of walkers headed your way. They were all coming for you.

"Daryl. We have to get out of here...Now." He snapped out of his daze and turned to you. His eyes widen though as he looks at something behind you. You turn and see that there were more in the street you'd come from. Shit.

"Where the fuck do we go?" You asked a bit more pathetically than you intended. Daryl looks around frantically but finally spots something, "Come on!"

You run behind him, struggling with the two already full bags. The groaning of dozens of walkers follow you with every step you take. You can't shake the feeling that this was going to be your last run with Daryl...or with anyone.

Then he suddenly takes a sharp right into an alley way, making you slow down. What the hell is he doing? You couldn't afford to stop now. They would be on you within a matter of seconds.

The alley is narrow but fairly long, with multiple doors lining the walls. Daryl pushes on each door to find one unlocked. It wasn't until he got to the second to last that he did and even then the walkers had made it into the alley.

"Hurry up!" He calls after you from the open threshold. You quickly duck inside what looked like a stairwell and helped him to barricade the entrance with large random objects.

Without warning, Daryl grabs one of the bags in your hand and takes off up a flight of stairs. As soon as you reached the next unlocked door you could hear the walkers banging below you. Daryl gives you one glance, and you throw the bag over your shoulder before pulling out your knife.

He holds his crossbow up as he slowly pushes the door open. The creaking lured a couple of zombies out that Daryl easily took down. Taking a look around, you notice that you were in a small studio apartment. The worst place to get caught in. What kind of town is this that they have apartments like this?

"What now?" You ask with obvious irritation. Daryl turns to you and scowls, "I thought this was a fuckin' apartment building." He tosses the bag down onto the couch angrily and sits with his head in his hands.
"Well, it technically is." He doesn't seem amused at all as he stares at you stressed.

"We could try downstairs through the other door." You suggest while gesturing to the front of the room. He merely shakes his head as though he has given up. "They've prob'ly broken through by now."

"Well, what are the chances they just walk by this room? Maybe we could block that door and wait it out." Daryl let's out a long huff and looks at you again. His mind seems to drift off for a minute but then the distant sound of clutter snaps him back.

He jumps up and starts pushing a large file cabinet over the door. Well, I guess he agreed with me. You rush to help and pile heavy furniture over the doorway. It takes the both of you to move the couch, though it was still a struggle.

By the time you were finished you and Daryl were breathing heavily and sweating. It didn't help that the room was stuffy from the heat and that there were two rotting bodies in the room. Which you decided to respectively stuff in the closet.

As you backed away from the massive barricade the sound of groaning grew louder, and soon they were right outside the door. You stood completely still and tried your hardest to steady your breathing. Daryl did the same, and you both stared at the exit sign that long before quit glowing.