Tonight the World Dies

It feels strange eating a dinner cooked on a stovetop while seated at a clean kitchen table. I have been placed in a house with Maggie and Glenn; the day before, Rick made the penultimate decision for all of us to start acclimating to Alexandria, and the first step was spreading out into our own houses. I have visited Denise at the infirmary every day, and unfortunately, I’m still using the crutches to get around. It makes for a quick road to aggravation, as I don’t adjust to the domestic life well. Carol, on the other hand, seems to be playing the dutiful housewife very well. She’s in a house with Daryl, not by accident I assume, and she, Rick, and the hunter seem to have some kind of plan. I’ve caught them sneaking out the front gates more than once, but that isn’t what sets my suspicions off.

It’s Carol’s sudden attitude change where I’m concerned. She’s still clearly bitter over whatever she thinks Daryl and I have, despite my constant reminding her that there is nothing going on, but when we’re in the presence of both our group and the Alexandrians, she’s as sickly sweet as maple syrup. It’s unnerving, and the first time she spoke to me with such kindness, Daryl shot her a look that spoke volumes. It frustrates me that I am left on the outside; it’s only slightly relieving to know that the others in our group are as equally in the dark.

I have my own reservations about Alexandria. The citizens seem to live in blissful ignorance of what has happened outside their community. None of them carry firearms, and most of me is relieved for that. The other part of me is wondering how this place is still standing.

That disbelief is fueled even more when Maggie says all of us have been invited to a welcome party at Deanna’s house that evening. The expression on my face speaks volumes.

“I know, it sounds a little ridiculous,” Maggie says hesitantly.

“A little? The world has ended and these people want a party?” I retort incredulously.

“Maybe it helps keep morale up,” Glenn offers lamely, and I roll my eyes.

“These people are clean as whistles and aren’t even armed. I think their morale is through the roof.”

“Rick and Daryl have a plan,” Glenn says, and I give him a look. He shakes his head. “I don’t know exactly what it is. All he said was to try and fit in as well as we can for the time being. Now, can you girls go get ready?”

I sigh but relent and hobble up the stairs to get changed. I enter the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth, and French braid my hair. When I’m finished, I hop to my bedroom and I see that Maggie has laid out a pretty hunter green dress that goes well with my skin tone and hair. I struggle into it, leaving it unzipped for now, and smear on deodorant and lotion on my bare legs. It feels infinitely strange to have smooth legs again. I’m not sure I’ll get used to it, but I definitely am not complaining. I shove my good foot into a black flat and go back downstairs. Maggie is still changing, so I have Glenn zip the back of my dress and clasp it at the back of my neck.

I glance in the hall mirror as Maggie and Glenn’s bedroom door closes and Maggie’s footsteps are heard overhead. I don’t look half bad, but the dress doesn’t fit nearly as well as it should. I’ve lost a significant amount of weight, and though the dress is pretty, I don’t do it justice.

The three of us head to Deanna’s house as sunset drowns Alexandria in an orange glow. Maggie is dressed in a navy blouse and black dress pants and Glenn sports jeans and a button-up shirt. Our trio makes for a pretty picture minus my crutches and heavily bandaged foot. I inwardly scoff, never having thought I’d be wearing a dress or attending a party at the end of the world. Deanna’s house is unmistakable—the front door is open and light spills out onto the walkway.

I crutch up the stairs and lead the way inside. Instantly I spot Abraham’s bright head over everyone else and make a beeline for him. He wears a grey shirt and jeans, and Rosita, who stands beside him, wears a black dress that looks incredible on her. Abraham must read my look as panicked because he chuckles and quickly hugs me to his side, avoiding my bad foot.

“It ain’t as bad as it looks,” he says reassuringly. Rosita smiles, eying my outfit.

“Damn girl, you look good. Didn’t know you had some gams under those jeans,” she teases. I manage a small smile, feeling way out of my element here. “Don’t look so terrified. Have a drink, it’s easier to relax.”

“Can’t,” I grumble. “Under strict orders to stay away from booze while on antibiotics. Figures.” Rosita and Abraham both smile sympathetically. I look around for the others. Rick is in the corner with Judith, talking to a pretty blonde. He is smiling, but what’s scarier is his clean face. That outrageous, wild-man beard is gone, making him look about a decade younger. The blonde steps away when a man tugs on her hand, and I don’t miss the clenching of both the man’s and Rick’s jaws. They’re both subtle, but years of people-watching has honed my ability to read body language.

When they’re gone, I hobble over to Rick and give him a wide smile. He mirrors it, and without all that fur his entire face lights up. It’s unnerving.

“Look at you. Evolving from caveman, I see,” I say jokingly. I lean my crutches against the wall behind us and follow them. My arms and underarms are killing me from the damn things.

“I’m still not used to it yet. Didn’t think I was looking at the same man,” he replies, running a hand over his smooth face.

“I’ll admit, it’s a little shocking to see. Now if only we can get Daryl to get that wild mane of his trimmed, we’ll all look like the picturesque Alexandrian.” The last part is muttered somewhat bitterly, but I cover it up. “Where is Daryl, anyways?”

Rick scoffs. “You really think he’d come to one of these shindigs? All these people poking and prodding him like an animal at the zoo?”

I hum. “You’re probably right. He could at least drown himself in booze to get through it.”

“Yeah, I mentioned that. Still said, and I quote, ‘Fuck no’.”

“Sounds like him. So, who was that pretty blonde I saw here a moment ago?” I smirk when Rick’s cheeks flush and he fights back a smile.

“Her name’s Jessie. Her husband is the lead doctor here.” A snarl has curled on Rick’s mouth at the mention of her husband.

“Have I met him? I can’t remember.”

Rick shakes his head and stems his hands on his hips. “No, and I’d advise you to avoid it. He was the one to take care of your foot, but you were out for all of it.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind then. Man, I could really use a drink.”

Tauntingly, Rick lifts his tumbler to his mouth and takes a hefty swig of what I assume is bourbon. The smell wafts over to me and my mouth waters. I grumble incoherently, making Rick laugh a little. It’s a pleasant sound after so long of being down in the dumps. What isn’t pleasant is the sound of a conflict going on in the hallway by the front door. It’s Sasha who’s making a scene, accusing the people of Alexandria of essentially having their heads up their asses, though not in so many words. Then, in a whirl of dark skin and a blue dress, she hurries out of the house. Her argument has sobered me from my earlier easiness with Rick, and suddenly I’m not in the mood to party anymore.

But I can’t make a clean getaway. I’m swarmed by Alexandrians asking me about my foot, if it’ll have to be removed, and even more outrageous ideas. They stare at me like I’m some kind of spectacle who’s survived hell and back. In a way, I suppose I have, but it doesn’t stave off the feeling of claustrophobia that is quickly setting in. Abraham, the tallest of our troupe, is standing not far away and takes notice of the panicked look on my face. He hurries to my rescue and barrels through everyone, parting them like a redheaded Moses. He steers me out of the crowd and towards the front door. The night air is refreshing, and I breathe in deeply.

“I think I need to go home,” I say before turning to Abraham. I’ve only been at the party for a few minutes, but already a headache is brewing behind my eyelids. “Thanks, big guy. Don’t get too drunk in there.”

“No promises there, kiddo,” he responds with a wink. With that, I hop down the stairs and begin the long trek back to my house.

As I turn onto our street, the cherry-red end of a cigarette catches my eye. It doesn’t take long for me to recognize Daryl’s figure, which is leaning against the railing of one of the houses. I notice it isn’t the one he shares with Carol. My crutches click on the pavement of the street, and as I near, I see Daryl turn his head in my direction. Instinctively, I hobble over to him and rest the crutches on the opposite railing.

“Not in the mood for a party?” I ask him. He grunts in response. “Me neither. It’s like the people are living in a fantasy world.”

“They are. Makes me itch.”

“Sasha made a scene. Said pretty much the same thing. Sobered me up quickly,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. Daryl puffs on his cigarette and seems to hesitate a moment before he holds the open box out towards me. I quickly snatch one and catch the lighter he tosses to me.

“Thought you couldn’t drink?” I light the cigarette and inhale, tossing his lighter back to him. The smoke billows out in front of me and drifts upwards.

“I can’t. But I admit I fell into the party trap a little easily. It was Rick’s shaved face that did it.”

Daryl snorts. “Don’t look the same. Guy’s got a major baby face.”

“Bet you do too.” Fuck. Daryl’s head whips around to me and I fight to keep my cool. “If you’d shave that mane of yours.”

“Hell no,” he grouses, shaking said mane pointedly.

I lift the cigarette to my mouth, humming thoughtfully. “Whose house is this?”

“Aaron’s. He and Eric got out of tonight too. Invited me fer dinner. Aaron wants me to go recruiting with him, and he’s got a bike he said I can fix up and have.”

I arch an eyebrow. “The hell is recruiting?”

“’S what Aaron was doing when he found us. He goes out lookin’ fer people to join the community. Watches em for a while before approachin’ em.”

“Sounds downright creepy. I assume he was watching us while we were on the road?” Daryl hums in confirmation. “How long?”

“Couple days. Said he was shocked we didn’t turn on each other when shit got rough, surprised we didn’t leave ya behind like ya asked.”

I inhale deeply, recalling my not-so-proud moment of vulnerability. “Kinda glad you guys didn’t listen to me.”

He scoffs, making me feel even stupider for having made the suggestion. “Yer family. Family don’t get left behind.”

Crap. I’m not used to this weight in my chest that’s been taking up residence for a while. I pull heavily on the rest of the cigarette and flick it away. When I exhale, it’s shaky. Daryl immediately picks up on—I can tell by the straightening of his shoulders—but he says nothing. We stand in silence for a moment longer before the slight chill gets to me and raises goosebumps on my exposed arms.

“Better get in,” I mutter. I pick up my crutches and hop down the steps, pausing when Daryl keeps pace with me.

“I’ll walk ya. Goin’ that way anyways.”

I nod, and we’re off, Daryl with his slight swagger and me on my crutches, clicking down the street. We’re silent as we go, and when my house looms, Daryl stops in front of the walkway and turns to look at me.

“Thanks for walking me. Would’ve been fine.” I shrug half-heartedly, feeling slightly similar to a sixteen-year-old girl out on her first date.

“Ain’t nothin’. Night.” He begins his trek down the street, and I click up the walkway, but I hear him stop and turn. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes glistening in the dark, and the way he rakes his eyes up and down my body doesn’t go unnoticed. Then, he says gruffly, blushing, “Ya look nice.”

My jaw goes slightly slack, but he turns away and disappears into the night. I shake my head, though still dazed, and hobble up the stairs and into the house. In my bedroom, my mind is still playing Daryl’s compliment on a loop. Internally I scold myself.

“Ain’t nothin,” I grunt, mimicking Daryl’s earlier statement, as I tug the dress over my head. I can’t reach the zipper, forgetting that Maggie and Glenn are still at Deanna’s. I go to bed in a sour mood, and I complete the look of a temper tantrum by folding my arms across my chest, my eyes shut firmly. Ain’t nothing.