Status: Ongoing

Starting Over

Running Into More Trouble

Once outside, Daryl immediately grabs a large metal rod and lodges it into the doors' handles. You both step back cautiously while staring at the herd crashing into the glass. It looked sturdy enough to keep them in for enough time so that you could get away.

"Oof!" Daryl quickly reacts after you trip over something, and you open your eyes to see a walker with an arrow in its head laying directly in front of you. "Well, I'm in a whole lot of debt, aren't I?" You chuckle as he helps you stand.

His smirk makes you smile more and soon you are in hysterics. Both of you probably looked like a couple of insane people standing there in front of a ton of zombies while laughing your asses off. But this was how you dealt. Laughter was your best way of dealing with life or death situations. It always has been.

When your cackles finally died down to occasional giggles you noticed that Daryl's hand was bleeding. "What happened?" You couldn't help the dread that laced your voice as you thought about Daryl getting bitten.

" 's just a cut." His nonchalant southern drawl returns and sends chills through you. "Is there a first-aid kit in one of the bags?" You ask while approaching him.

He seems to stiffen up as you get closer, "I'm fine. Jus' a cut." You roll your eyes involuntarily and grab his hand. "It might get infected. Just let me look."

Daryl reluctantly lets you examine the wound, but refuses any eye contact. You almost chuckle to yourself at how shy he gets whenever you get close. The cut was nothing serious, so you just rubbed it with a sanitary wipe and wrapped it in gauze.

"There." You smiled at him when he briefly caught your eye. "What 'bout you?" He mumbled as he pointed at your ankle.

"Well, we probably don't have a lot of time here, so I'll worry about it later." Trying to brush the matter off, you take one of the bags and begin limping to the tree Daryl picked. Luckily, the herd from before either passed through or got caught in buildings.

After a minute, you start to hear Daryl's heavy boots behind you. About half way you realized something and slowed down to fall into step beside him.

"Don't we need a shovel?" You see him shrug through your peripheral vision and internally scoff. So we're going to dig the hole like dogs?

"I'll leave the digging to you then." You commented when you both reached the tree. He lets out a gruff response as he gets on his knees by the trunk. Seeing him digging with his hands and grumbling to himself makes you snicker a little, which gains you a slightly harsh look from him.

You turn around in surrender and keep a look out. There were surprisingly few walkers out and the ones that were hadn't even seen you yet. Everything was going great, which was starting to make you a bit uneasy. Nothing goes by without a problem like this.

"Uh..Daryl. Isn't it a little too quiet?" He stops his digging momentarily to listen, but there really isn't much to listen for. The few zombies you had seen were now gone. There were no birds chirping, no groaning, not even the wind was blowing. You look at each other uncertainly.

Then Daryl started to quickly dig deeper. He threw the bag into the hole just as loud raucous laughter echoed down the street. It sounded like a group of men making their way to your position.

In one swift movement, Daryl covers the bag in dirt and pulls you to the side of the closest building. He pushes you as close as possible to the wall, and you can't help the heat rising in your cheeks.

Despite the fact that there were possibly deadly men a few yards away, you still managed to feel embarrassed at being so close to him.

You still hoped though, that your hiding place in the shadows gave enough cover. Daryl didn't seem to think so as he slowly moved the two of you farther back from the sunlight. Luckily, it was close to sunset and there wasn't much light as before.

It seemed like the closer the men got the closer Daryl got, if that was even possible. His whole body was pressed against yours making your face rest on his chest. The heat from his body and his smell accompanied with the fresh dirt on his hands, which were setting on either side of your head, made you feel at ease.

Each breath you took was ragged from both the pressure on your chest and the aroma coming from him. It was excruciating having to hold back the suppressed desires.

When you finally decided to look up Daryl was staring right at you. It felt as though his ocean blue eyes were staring at your very soul. For a split second you could have sworn that he was leaning in closer to you too, but there was no time to find out as the men reached the house you were hiding against.

Daryl quickly pushes away from you and takes a brief look around the house's corner. He motions for you to follow him to another house not far, but before you can make a run for it the sound of approaching foot steps changes your direction.

This time it's you that grabs Daryl and drags him into the small shack beside the house. It was full of old car parts and yard tools. There were also a few large objects covered in blankets that provided concealment.

Just as you got into a comfortable hiding position the door swung open, making you slightly jump. You internally curse when you knock over a wrench and it creates a loud banging noise as it hits the ground.

"I know yer in 'ere. Come on out." The man's hoarse voice fills the room and is followed by a grating laughter that gives you goosebumps. You don't have to see this person to already know he's bad news.

Taking a look over to Daryl, you can see that he's getting ready to jump, but you give him a look that makes him change his mind. Instead, you're left there waiting for a chance to run, but one doesn't come.

You think the man is going to at least search the small shack, but he just stands there waiting until you finally hear him pull something out. You instantly recognize the sound as a gun being taken from its holster.

"I'll give y'all until three then I'm comin' to getcha maself." The man obviously being too scared to enter stands in the doorway counting.


You hear him roughly cough up mucus before spitting onto the concrete ground and continuing.


Daryl seems to plead with you through his eyes while tightly holding onto his crossbow. Holding up your hand, you try to get him to stay still.


No sooner than his guttural voice yells a shot rings out into the air. Then suddenly a mouse shoots out from under one of the covered objects and makes its way toward the door.

"Son of a bitch!" The man curses when the small rodent surprises him. "Jus' a damn rat." He seems to lose interest in the building as you hear him shuffle out of the shack.

"What the hell you doin' Dan? You tryin' to get us killed?" A different unfriendly shout comes from the house as he makes his way to the front. "I ain't done shit. Jus' tryin' to have some fun."

The voices fade out as they get farther and quieter, but you take no chances and decide to wait it out. Looking over at Daryl, you see that he's still stiff as a plank and can't help but let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding in.

He looks back at you after hearing you sigh. His face is completely blank but somewhere in there you can see frustration. You weren't exactly sure why he listened to you and stayed still, but you were thankful he did.

It took a total of twenty minutes, you estimated, for the group to move on. Even as they left though, the sounds of walkers struck fear in you. Nothing but everything was going your way it seemed.

"Do you think we should hold out for the night?" You ask Daryl quietly as you both stood and stretched out the kinks. He looks outside for a second and returns showing nothing in his expression.

"Don' feel safe with those guys out there. We keep movin'" Taking Daryl's opinion over everything else you comply and follow him straight back into hell.