Tonight the World Dies

In the next couple of days, Denise determines that I can officially get rid of the crutches. My underarms are relieved for it, and I am ecstatic that I can now wear two shoes instead of one. The infection in my foot has cleared up, thanks to the antibiotics, but Denise keeps me on them for a few more days to be sure. The puncture wounds from the trap have closed up nicely, and they form a ring around my ankle like some kind of morbid accessory. Denise helps me with a sort of physical therapy to be sure I can rotate my ankle to its fullest extent. It’s stiff when I put weight on it, but it doesn’t hurt. It takes all of my restraint not to break out into a run just to see how far I get.

With my ankle back in business, Deanna finally gives me a job, but it isn’t one I’m happy to receive. Olivia, the heavy girl who manages the pantry, needs help keeping inventory, and I am supposedly the chosen one. I fight it, though, and persuade both Deanna and Rick, who’s become a constable of Alexandria, that I would be much more useful outside the gates than cooped inside. Rick wants to take my side, but Deanna isn’t so sure, so he proposes a trial run to see how I do. Deanna has made it clear that her eldest son, Aiden, is in charge and that I am to follow all orders.

Aiden is a pretty boy; arrogant, charming, and doesn’t have a clue as to what he is doing. Glenn, Tara, Eugene, and Noah have accompanied Aiden and I, as well as another Alexandrian named Nicholas. The familiarity of my handgun and my hatchet strapped to my body feels like home; we are milled around the gate, awaiting Aiden and Nicholas. Glenn is anxious to leave, and I don’t blame him. A body comes up beside me, and I know it’s Daryl before I even turn my head.

“Yer goin’ then?” he asks roughly. His tone tells me he’s far from happy with the arrangement, and it just serves to irritate me.

“Ankle’s fine,” I say shortly. “I’m going nuts in here. Sure you are too.” I give him a pointedly look. He glances at me briefly, and I notice he has a pack on his shoulder, his trademark crossbow in one hand. “You going out?”

He hums a confirmation, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Aaron wants to scout the area.”

“Be safe,” I mumble, stepping away as Aiden drives a van up to the gate.

I glance back at him once, and he nods. I climb into the van behind Glenn, and through the open door, I see Carol’s figure hurry to Daryl’s side, lean up, and press kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth. I slam the door closed a little harder than I intend to and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Both Carol and Daryl are staring at the back of the van and Glenn is giving me a knowing look when I turn around.

“What?” I snap as Aiden turns the engine over. The van pulls through the gates of Alexandria, and Glenn holds up his hands.

The walls of the community fade into the distance, and there is no conversation between any of us except for Aiden, who’s barking out orders. I share an eye roll with Glenn, and a sinking feeling settles in my gut.

“So Candace,” Aiden calls from the front of the van. His eyebrows are raised suggestively. “You single?”

I scoff and my eyes roll to the ceiling. “Yep, and it’s gonna stay that way.”

“Aw, come on. I bet we’d get along real well.”

“Fat chance. Now shut up and drive.” Fortunately, he lets the mostly one-sided conversation drop, and a little while later we pull up to a warehouse. Supposedly, we’re to gather supplies to help Eugene and the others fix the solar panels inside Alexandria. Aiden parks the van, and we all pile out and gather on the sidewalk in front of the doors.

“All right, listen up,” Aiden calls over us. “We’re gonna do this quick and quiet, got it? Mullet knows what we need, so everyone cover him. He goes down, Alexandria’s fucked.” He has a point, but he’s still very green in his experiences with the outside world. He doesn’t take his own advice and goes into the warehouse stepping on glass and debris.

“Hey,” I bark in a whisper. He whips his head around and nails me with a glare. I glare back. “Ya wanna keep it down? You’re stepping on everything in here. We don’t know what’s here yet so watch those big feet of yours.”

Aiden turns to face me fully and leans his face close to mine; I can feel his breath on my face, but I don’t recoil. His eyes are set in a hard glare.

“Listen, girly, I’m in charge. I know what I’m doing, so you’d do best to follow my lead and keep quiet.”

I make a point of rolling my eyes and sighing before I side-step him and continue on. I crouch as we move along the aisles, and here and there Eugene is plucking items off the shelves. Aiden breaks off from me, and I’m thankful for the space. I’m not sure what other equipment is needed, so instead I choose to be a lookout.

A couple aisles over, gunfire breaks out, and I rush to the scene. As I’m rounding the corner, my gaze locks on Aiden, who’s firing his gun at a downed and armored walker. The walker groans from the ground, and when Aiden fires another shot, the walker explodes, sending debris, Aiden, and myself crashing against shelving. My ears are ringing and my back is sore from where it made contact with a shelf. I stand on shaky legs and my stomach plummets when I take in Aiden. The force of the blast has thrown him backwards, impaling him on a shelf.

I can hear coughing from a few aisles over, and Glenn calls out to us. I answer as I run to Aiden, who’s still breathing. Glenn intercepts and grabs my arm, tugging me into an office. Inside, Eugene has Tara, also unconscious, lying on the desk, her head bleeding. Nicholas paces and sweats profusely, scared out of his wits. I struggle against Glenn.

“He’s still alive!” I tell him, breaking away from his grip.

“We need to go!” Nicholas exclaims, his hands in his curly hair. “We need to leave! We need to take care of Tara.”

“What about Aiden?” I ask, throwing an arm out to gesture behind me. “We can’t leave him there.”

“He’s dead! He’s dead, and we need to leave!” Nicholas rushes toward Tara and, paired with Eugene, hauls Tara up to carry her back out to the van. Glenn and I make to follow them, but I look to Aiden one last time. He’s moving, coming to, and I look back at Glenn.

“We can’t leave him,” I say imploringly. Glenn hesitates, but then he nods, and together we dart back to Aiden and each take hold of an arm. Blood drips from his mouth, and I know it isn’t a good sign, but I still don’t give up. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

“You need to keep quiet,” Glenn tells him as the telltale sign of the dead echo behind us. We struggle to pull Aiden from the shelf, but he lets out a small shout as his body protests.

“You need to go,” he says through a mouthful of blood. “You need to.” Glenn and I share a desperate look; neither of us have the will to leave him behind. We turn back when he starts speaking again: “It’s my fault...I got them killed...My fault...”

“Come on, Glenn,” I urge, pulling again on Aiden’s body. He cries out again, and the dead behind us are riled up now, making their way to us. Aiden’s body doesn’t move, and once more he pleads for us to go. I look dejectedly at Glenn, realizing that Aiden isn’t getting out of this, and Glenn nods. He turns to go, but I hesitate. Even though Aiden is a cocky bastard, he still doesn’t deserve this fate. I grab his hand and squeeze. “I’m so sorry.”

He merely nods, his expression one of acceptance, and I break away from him, darting to avoid the walkers that are now stumbling their way down the aisle. As I near the door, Aiden’s screams of pain bid me goodbye, and mere sound of it sends chills down my spine. At the van, an unconscious Tara is laid out on the floor, and Glenn and Nicholas are glaring daggers at one another.

“Let’s go,” I shout, rousing both of them, and climb into the back of the van.

The ride back is incredibly tense. Glenn is driving, but every so often he glares at Nicholas in the passenger seat. I find myself glaring at the back of his curly head too. When we return to Alexandria, before the van comes to a halt, I am out of the back like a bat out of hell. My emotions have pent up far too long and if I don’t get away from Nicholas’s smarmy face I just might deck him. A small crowd has gathered, voices raising as they take in Tara’s state and notice that we are short one. I notice Daryl has returned as well, but I can’t bother to look at him or anyone.

As I’m storming by the hunter, his blue eyes trained on me, Nicholas calls out to me, “How could you just leave him like that?” Without missing a beat, I spin on my heel and charge him, shoving him roughly up against the side of the van. Commotion breaks out behind me, but all I’m focused on is getting my hands around Nicholas’s weasel throat. Nicholas has thrown his arms up, attempting to block my blows. A pair of arms wrap around my waist and tug me backwards off of Nicholas. They unwind from me, but a hand remains on my shoulder in case I rush him again. He has a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“You left him,” I spit. The hand on my shoulder flinches. “You kept saying he was dead even though I told you he was alive! You left Aiden, you fucking coward!” The smirk remains on Nicholas’s face and I take two steps forward, shoving the hand off my shoulder, and I reel my arm back. My fist connects solidly with Nicholas’s jaw in a right hook, and he hits the pavement hard. The arms are back around me but I break free from them in another attempt to storm off.

No one stops me this time as I make my way to my house. My gait has turned stiff, having forgotten that I am fresh off my crutches and that just an hour ago I was blown up. I wince as my back protests the walk up the stairs and into the foyer. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. I feel faint from the emotions swirling through me, unrelenting. I am angry more than anything; angry with Nicholas and with Aiden, angry with myself. Still seething, I head upstairs for a long, hot shower to try and get the anger to go away.

As soon as the hot water hits the hand I punched Nicholas with, I hiss. My knuckles are split open and bleeding, turning the water pink. I ignore it for now and stand under the shower, willing my anger to fade. It sort of works. By the time I step out, I’m far less angry, though I’m still simmering. It was so much easier when I had no one to care about. Granted, I didn’t know Aiden, much less really cared for him, but still he didn’t deserve the fate he was dealt. Nicholas’s smug face shows itself in my mind and my palm itches to punch him again. I curl my fingers into a fist, stretching the scrapes on my knuckles, and release them. The scrapes are bleeding again, but I hardly pay attention to it as I wrap a towel around myself and cross the hall towards my bedroom.

I head for the dresser, and as I turn, I jump, nearly dropping the towel.

“Jesus fuck, Daryl,” I hiss. “Can’t just sneak up on people like that.” The hunter is seated on my bed, elbows on his knees with his head resting in his hands. He peers up at me through his curtain of dark hair, and then his gaze drops. A full-body flush takes over as I realize I am very exposed to him at the moment and goosebumps rise on my arms.

“What happened?” His eyes are downcast and away from me now. I shake my head and reach into my drawer for a pair of underwear, socks, and some new clothes. I settle for jean shorts and a grey long-sleeved shirt.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter, my dark mood reappearing. Suddenly, I forget that I’m in just a towel. I hold up the clothes. “Do you mind?” His narrowed eyes just stare at me, and I groan before storming back towards the bathroom. I make a point to slam the door and hurriedly shove my limbs into my new clothes. When I return, towel-drying my hair, Daryl is still there, and he gives me a look that says he isn’t going anywhere soon.

“Aiden’s dead.”

“I know. That ain’t what I’m askin’ about.”

I narrow my eyes back at him. “Then what are you asking about?”

“You. What happened with you? Never seen ya so angry.”

I bristle. “No offense, but you haven’t exactly known me all that long.” Daryl doesn’t flinch from my harsh, defensive tone. Dammit. Instead, he levels me with that patient stare of his. I sigh and sit on the other side of the bed, mimicking his position. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Not until I can figure it out myself.”

“Was like you once,” he mutters after a few beats of silence. “At the beginnin’. Lost ma brother, lost Carol’s little girl. Thought it was easier to pretend I didn’t care about anyone else but me. Separated myself for a while, till I realized ya can’t do things without people anymore.” Out of my peripheral, I see his head turn in my direction, probably to gauge my reaction. “Yer bleedin’.”

“I’m fine,” I reply shortly. I’m slightly miffed that Daryl is able to figure me out seemingly effortlessly. I’m losing my touch, I guess. I look down at my knuckles which have started dripping again.

“Ya ain’t weak just ‘cause ya care. Took me a long time to realize that.” The bed shifts and Daryl exits the room. I think it’s for good initially, but he returns with a dampened washcloth and a first aid kit. He kneels in front of me and pulls my hand towards him. I hardly feel it as he dabs at the blood with the washcloth. I pointedly keep my eyes away from him, worried that he’ll see how much his words affect me. I’m not used to caring about people. Sure, I stayed with Gabriel, and I guess I care somewhat for him, but the people of Daryl’s group have become something more to me. They’ve become my family, refused to give up on me, trust me with their lives. I’m not used to that responsibility, even though I know I’ll protect them with everything I have. But the thought of letting them take care of me too scares the living daylights out of me. Daryl is perceptive, and I know he’ll pick up on that right away if I look at him.

So I don’t.

He applies butterfly bandages to the worst of my scrapes, and when he’s finished he doesn’t let go of my hand. His is rough with callouses and dwarfs mine, and the contact makes me uncomfortable. I glance at our clasped hands and I can feel Daryl’s eyes on me, but I refuse to make eye contact. I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I do. So I pull my hand out of his and rise from the bed to put some distance between us. I can tell I’ve hurt him just by the way the air in the room shifts, but he doesn’t stop me as I make my escape downstairs. Goddamn, I could use a drink.