Tonight the World Dies

For the first time since the world ended, I am nervous.

Nervous over what? I’m not exactly sure, but the idea of sitting down and having dinner with Aaron, Eric, and Daryl has my palms sweating. When I’m finished at the pantry, I head home to change my shirt and wash the sweat from my face. I sit on my bed, waiting for sundown, my nerves have me fidgeting, so I decide to just head over early. The streets are near bare, mostly everyone inside enjoying their own meals. I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way down the street, until I stop and remember that I have no idea where Aaron and Eric live. I backtrack to Rick’s and knock on the door.

He’s in the middle of buttoning his shirt when he answers, confusion on his face.

“Do you know where Aaron lives?” I ask in a rush. He nods, finishes with his shirt, and steps out onto the porch. His old sheriff’s star is pinned above the breast pocket. “So you were a cop before all this.”

He nods as he leads me towards Aaron’s. “A sheriff’s deputy. Got shot in the line of duty and went into a coma. I woke up to all this.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “What a way to find out civilization is gone, huh?”

“You’re telling me. To make matters worse, when I left the hospital, a kid hit me in the face with a shovel. He thought I was one of the walkers. He and his dad took me in, told me what happened. I parted ways with them when I went looking for my wife and Carl.”

“Where’s this man now?”

Rick sighs, his boots scuffing on the pavement. “Not sure. He could be dead for all I know.”

“Sorry to hear about him, and I’m sorry you got hit with a shovel.” I hold back laughter, but Rick lets a chuckle through.

“Well, this is Aaron’s,” he says, and I notice we’ve stopped in front of a house that’s laid out exactly like all the others. “Have a good night, Candace. And stay out of trouble.” There’s a knowing gleam in his eye when he sends me a backwards look as he heads off for his nightly duties. I’m alone in the street, and talking with Rick had staved off my nerves, but as I look up at the house, a light on in the living room window, they’re back in full force.

“Get it together,” I hiss to myself. With a self-assured nod, I head up to the porch and knock. A skinny blonde man answers the door, and a wide smile takes up his entire face.

“You must be Candace!” he exclaims. He waves his hands in a ‘come here’ motion. “Come in, come in! Aaron’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Huh. That’s surprising, considering I haven’t really spoken more than a few sentences to him since I’ve been here.” Eric’s smile falters for a moment, and I inwardly wince. I’m not used to this. “Uh, you know, since I was brought in unconscious and all that.”

“Right, right, of course. Aaron and Daryl aren’t back yet,” he explains as he catches me looking around. “They should be back soon. Come into the kitchen. Care for a glass of wine?”

I groan. “Yes please. I’m finally off those damn antibiotics.” Something smells wonderful as we step into the kitchen. A massive pot is simmering on the stove, and my nose tells me it’s spaghetti sauce. Eric opens a bottle of red and pours me a hefty glass. “Thank you.”

“So, Candace, Aaron tells me you had a pretty bad ankle injury. How’d that happen?” Eric skips over to the stove after pouring a glass of wine for himself. I take a long sip, relishing in the fruitiness and the way it warms a path down my throat to my stomach.

“Got my foot caught in a bear trap, if you can believe it.” Eric’s jaw drops. “Yeah. Wasn’t exactly looking where I was going and then snap. Damn thing closed right around my ankle. I’m lucky it wasn’t broken and that I didn’t get tetanus. Thing was rusty as hell.”

“Crap, I bet that hurt.”

“Like a motherfu—like hell.”

“So how did you come by Rick’s group? Aaron said he said you weren’t always with them.” Eric drinks deeply from his wine, and the more I drink from mine, the more comfortable I feel.

“I wasn’t. I met them when I came back from a quick hunt. Left that morning, just Gabriel and me, and when I came back there was a huge group of strangers leering at me. It was kind of intimidating. Especially Rick with that massive opossum on his face. Daryl was pretty brooding, too. All dark and standoffish.”

“The hell you callin’ broody?” The rough voice makes me jump, and I face the doorway, where Daryl and Aaron are both standing. Aaron breaks away to greet Eric with a kiss, and I politely avert my eyes, focusing them on the hunter.

“I’m calling you broody,” I scoff jokingly. “Eric asked about the day you guys showed up at the church.”

“Ain’t broody,” he grumbles, setting his crossbow down on the floor in the hallway. Aaron hands him a glass of amber alcohol.

“You are so,” Aaron supplies with a wink in my direction. “You stick out like a sore thumb here.” Daryl scoffs and plops himself into one of the kitchen chairs and doesn’t reply. I can’t tell if he’s offended by the look on his face, but considering he hasn’t snapped anything in reply, I assume it doesn’t bother him.

“So, Candace, how are you liking Alexandria?” Aaron asks. At the sink, Eric is dumping the pasta through a colander. I hesitate, and I know Daryl is watching me, waiting to see how I respond.

“It’s definitely different...” I trail off. Aaron merely waits for me to finish. “It’s mostly a good different.”

“And what makes it bad?” His tone isn’t offended, merely curious. I shrug and drain my wine. Aaron is there to pour me another glass.

“You just all seem so sheltered here, in your own little Eden, and you’ve forgotten what it’s like outside those walls.” Aaron’s eyebrows raise at my bluntness. I’m not sure where the bitter edge came from, but I can’t bring myself to apologize or backtrack. I do amend my statement, though, with: “Maybe not you, considering you go outside the walls more often than anyone else.”

Eric steps up to the table with the massive bowl of pasta in his hands and sets it down in the center. Then he looks from me to Aaron and says, “I like her. Shall we?” I’m seated next to Daryl, with Aaron and Eric across from us.

“I bet it’s a bit of a culture shock to you all,” Aaron says, continuing with the previous conversation. His eyes shift from me to the hunter beside me. “Power, hot showers, a hot meal, alcohol. How long were you all on the road?”

“I was only with Gabriel for about a month or so before Rick’s group showed up,” I reply. “Before that, I was with a group from the very beginning.” Against my will, my mind strays back to the beginning of the end, but I chase the memories away with another sip of wine. Having abstained from alcohol for quite a while, besides the two shots offered to me by Abraham some time ago, the wine hits me faster than normal, but I don’t turn down a third glass.

“Was with Rick from the beginnin’,” Daryl says when Aaron looks at him. I’m relieved that the topic of my former group will not be sticking around. The hunter straightens his shoulders, a haunted shadow in his eyes. “Holed up a few places. Maggie’s farm, then a prison when that got overrun. Spent the winter and most of the spring on the road ‘fore we found it. Stayed there for pro’lly a year, had a good life. Then we got chased out by some psycho. Just been wanderin’ since then till ya found us. Probably a good three, four months.”

Eric whistles lowly and glances at both of us sympathetically. “Well, we hope you can manage to make a good life here at Alexandria. We got here right at the beginning of everything, so we got extremely lucky.” In my head, I scoff disbelievingly. I’ll say.

“So, uh, Daryl,” Eric says after a few beats of silence, mischief in his eyes, “what’s goin’ on with you and Carol?”

I try not to choke on my bite of spaghetti at the chosen topic and wash the bite down with more wine. Daryl looks extremely uncomfortable now, and I’m not sure if it’s because there is something going on or if this line of questioning just makes him uncomfortable.

“Why ya think that?” he asks gruffly. His tone and body posture are immediately on the defensive. I sit back in my chair, my wine glass in my hand, and try not to stare too intently at him.

“Well, she’s always following you around. Normally wherever you are, she’s not far behind. So, is there something going on there?” Eric wags his eyebrows, and I snort and begin giggling before I can stop it. The image of Eric teasing Daryl with wiggling eyebrows is undeniably amusing, but my giggling comes to an abrupt halt when Daryl’s eyes suddenly shift to me. A full-body flush breaks out over my skin, though I doubt it’s from the wine, and I have to look away. Eric doesn’t notice the exchange, but Aaron sure does. The smirk he gives me is almost indiscernible, but I catch it.

Daryl’s still looking at me when he says, “Nah, ain’t nothin’ goin’ on.”

After dinner, we move into the living room, each of us, except Daryl, with newly-refilled glasses of alcohol. Though I have my reservations about this place, I’m not about to pass up free wine. Besides, I realize I’m tired of being on the alert all the time, tired of having something to worry about. Perhaps it’s the wine making my inhibitions fuzzy, but I can’t find it me to care. Eric shows me his expansive license plate collection, as well as a number of vinyl records. He doesn’t have a record player, but he enjoys having them just the same.

“It’s a sense of normalcy,” he explains, swirling his wine in his glass. I’m not the only one who’s feeling the effects of the wine. Eric sways on his feet as he leads me to the bookcase beside the fireplace. Daryl and Aaron have taken up residence on the armchair and the couch, chatting quietly, though it’s mostly Aaron.

I browse through Eric’s CD collection, a player for which he does have, and I squeak in excitement as I pull a disc off the shelf. I feel Eric leaning over to see what I have.

“Wouldn’t peg you for a Lord of the Rings fan,” he says honestly.

“I read the books when I was a kid. Then I fell in love with the movies, mostly because of the amazing soundtrack.” I flip the CD case over in my hands. It’s the soundtrack from the first movie, and my heart tugs painfully as my mind goes back to Before. My voice is soft when I explain, “My dad and I would have marathons of this movie once a month before he got sick. We’d pick a weekend and I’d go home or he’d come to my apartment and we’d watch the extended versions together. He’d stay over or I would, and we’d get through all of them in two days.” My eyes are misty as I focus on the titles on the back of the CD, and Eric lays a hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

“You can have it,” he says softly, gesturing to the CD. “I don’t listen to it very often and it clearly has some sentimentality for you. I’d be glad if you took it.”

I smile sadly at him, mentally cursing the wine for making me such an emotional sap. “Thanks, Eric.” He nods, and then moves to the CD player to throw in some jazz disc.

“Okay, enough sadness! Candace, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” Eric bows exaggeratedly, and I start giggling madly but I shake my head.

“Oh no. You’re going to need to get me way drunker than this to get me to dance. I have two left feet. What about Aaron?” I grin over at the other man, feeling wonderfully at ease with these two. Without thinking, I walk backwards and perch on the arm of the chair Daryl is seated in. His dark figure contrasts so starkly against the light grey fabric, and an empty glass is clasped in his hands between his legs.

Eric shoots his boyfriend a look, and I erupt into even more giggles when Aaron stands and starts dancing goofily to the song playing from the stereo. My sides are hurting as I watch them twirl in silly circles, and I nearly spill my wine as I lift the glass to my mouth. Beside me, Daryl is strong and silent, watching the three of us with an unrecognizable look on his face. When the song switches to something slower, Aaron and Eric come together for a slow dance. I look down at my lap, over at the fireplace, anywhere but at the two men slow dancing in the living room. I feel as if I’m intruding on an intimate moment, and I just about jump out of my skin as I’m nudged in the side.

Daryl peers up at me through the dark hair in his face and jerks his head towards the door. He no doubt feels the same awkward intrusiveness that I do. There is a deep flush on his face and for some reason it makes me blush too. Slowly, he rises from the chair; I leave my wine glass on the side table and hesitantly accept the hand the hunter holds out for me, the CD Eric gave me in my empty hand. The two dancing men are too involved in their own little world to notice us, but we bid them quiet goodnights anyways. Together, Daryl and I exit out the front door, and I relish in the coolness of the night against my flushed skin.

Daryl is slow to let go of my hand, a fact that, even in my state, doesn’t go unnoticed. Strangely, I miss the contact. Walking proves to be a bit difficult for me and I uneasily follow Daryl down the stairs, trying not to sway too much.

“Yer a lightweight,” Daryl mutters as we walk up the street. Apparently my inebriated state has not gone completely undetected. “And yer a giggly drunk.”

I start giggling again and a small smile graces Daryl’s face in the dark. “It’s been a while since I’ve been tipsy. And you should smile more. You’re too broody.” I grin at him before turning my attention back to my feet, trying to keep them straight.

“Ain’t broody.” Amusement tinges his tone as he bumps his shoulder with mine lightly. In my state, I’m thrown slightly off balance but Daryl’s arm shoots out and he curls a hand around my bicep to right me. “Jesus, girl. Ya had three glasses.”

“Four,” I correct. “I had four glasses. And it was good wine.” Daryl just grunts, and I notice he hasn’t removed his hand from my arm. Instead, he slowly moves his hand down my arm to my wrist before hesitantly entwining our hands. I can feel the discomfort radiating off of him like heat from the sun, waiting for rejection, so to ease him, I tighten my grip on his hand. Against my will my stomach is aflutter with rambunctious butterflies, and the feeling is so alien I nearly pull my hand back.

Our walk is silent, though I have so many thoughts buzzing in my head, and we come to a stop on the sidewalk in front of the walkway. The one that bursts from my mouth is the offer for Daryl to come inside. I’m not even sure where in the crevices of my mind the invitation has come from, and Daryl seems reluctant to answer. I stand a foot away from him, our hands still entwined between us. He’s chewing on his lip, glancing from the sidewalk to me and back. Tentatively he takes a step forward and closes the distance between us. His lip is still between his teeth as he looks down at me, and his gaze is so intense that I feel incredibly vulnerable. Then he pulls his hand from mine and lifts it to brush his fingers across my cheek. My eyes flutter instinctively, but I keep them open and locked on his.

“Think ya better go in,” he finally says, his voice low and husky. It does wonders for the butterflies in my stomach despite the fact that I was just rejected. Instead of feeling hurt, I merely lift my hand to cover his, where it rests against my cheek. Tomorrow I’ll decide that his saying no was for the better. With one last squeeze to his fingers, I take a step backwards and turn to head up into the house. I glance back at Daryl when I’m on the porch. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s watching me through that curtain of hair. He nods slowly, just once, before he turns and heads off down the street.

When he’s gone, I release a breath I wasn’t even aware I was holding, and head inside, determining a shower is just what I need to clear my head.