Tonight the World Dies

It is a relief to see the others, but it is disappointing to hear of Eugene’s betrayal. Though I didn’t believe the man for a hot minute, it still hurts to know that hope is now nearly extinct. The man in question is quiet in the backseat, sporting a rather large shiner on his eye. A quick replay from Glenn tells me Abraham is the culprit. He is white-knuckled in the driver’s seat as we head towards Atlanta, towards the others, and towards Beth. Maggie is nearly bouncing in her seat from her anticipation, calling for Abraham to step on it every few minutes. The city looms before us, a shadow and a shell of what used to be. My stomach plummets as we pass under a bridge, cars littered on either side. Bodies litter the streets as Abraham maneuvers the massive truck up the avenues.

My arm throbs, and it is only then that I am reminded of my ordeal. But we are pulling up to the gates of the hospital before I can peel my shirt away to assess the damage—to find out if I’m bitten. Maggie flies out of the truck and Glenn quickly follows. The rest of us take our time. A few walkers in scrubs greet us, and Glenn and Michonne dispose of them quickly.

The doors to the hospital open, Rick leading the procession. I stop, the look on his face freezing my blood. Behind him are Carol, Noah, Tyreese, and Sasha. Daryl appears last, and far from empty-handed. As he draws closer Maggie lets out an anguished cry, falling to her knees on the pavement. Glenn is right there for her as a crying Daryl, with a dead blonde girl in his arms, walks closer. My mind puts two and two together and I can’t ignore the painful tug of my heart. It’s been so long since I’ve felt the pain of loss that it nearly floors me; despite not knowing Beth, and not knowing this group for long, I am still grieving for their loss. The dejected look on everyone’s face causes me to exhale and turn away, the back of my hand pressed to my mouth as Daryl walks by. I don’t miss the stark contrast of bright red blood against Beth’s blonde hair or the gaping hole from a bullet.

Beth is wrapped in a sheet and is laid in the fire truck. Daryl rides with her lifeless head in his lap, and Maggie sits on the floor in front of him, her sister’s cold hand clutched tightly in hers. Tears stream down Maggie’s face as we ride, looking for an appropriate place to bury Beth. The fire truck is silent, and my eyes take in everyone—especially Daryl. He sits up against the window, staring down at Beth’s head with an expression that I can’t read. What I can read is the shadow that has suddenly taken over his face, turning his already dark features even stormier. I wonder briefly if Daryl and Beth were involved; I learned from Rick that before they were forced out, they holed up in a prison for a while until it was destroyed. Everyone had been separated, and Daryl wound up with Beth until she was taken. Rick didn’t say anything about it, but the way he’d said “they grew close” had implications after it.

Without thinking I reach out and lay a hand on Daryl’s shoulder in comfort, and I feel the way his muscles tense beneath his clothing. I’m not sure if it works, but he doesn’t shrug me away. I’m not even sure why I did it; perhaps the look on his face is bringing back painful thoughts and memories from a time before I knew Gabriel, knew these survivors. A heavy weight like lead has settled in the pit of my stomach. I can feel it radiating from the others around me, dragging me down with them.

We pull off to the side of the road sometime later, finding a still-blooming magnolia tree that will serve perfectly as Beth’s grave site. The entire group works to dig the grave, and I take it upon myself to fashion a rough cross out of a pair of sticks and some vinery. Beth’s sheet-wrapped body is laid gently to rest and is covered with dirt. Maggie cries again, and Glenn hugs his wife close. His eyes are red-rimmed as well. When the grave is covered, Rick takes the cross from me and hammers it into the ground. A magnolia bloom breaks free from a branch above and slowly descends to land on the freshly-packed dirt. It’s nearly too much for me and I have to turn away.

I step behind the fire truck, needing a moment, and I am sorely reminded of my injured arm. As I am peeling the shirt away, Michonne appears around the truck, worry creasing her forehead. I examine my arm. The walker’s teeth nearly chewed through the duct tape, but fortunately it’s held, and all that’s left on my skin is a darkening bruise. No skin breaks, no teeth marks, no blood. I release a sudden breath, clad only in my dirty bra, and lean against the side of the truck in relief. Michonne and I exchange a look; she is happy I am okay. I examine the duct tape on the sleeve. It will need repairing.

I shove my shirt back on as I hear activity on the other side of the truck. Rick appears then, asking Michonne to come along with him, Tyreese, Noah, and Glenn. Noah’s home is not far, and he says Beth wanted to make sure he got there—they’re going for Beth. I am left alone when they take off in the other car, an old red SUV, and disappear down the road. I return to the others. Maggie is seated under the magnolia tree, speaking quietly. Daryl stands guard not too far away, his arms crossed over his chest with his hands shoved under his armpits. He’s worrying his bottom lip, his eyes trained on the dirt pile that covers Beth.

Suddenly he’s moving, stomping to the fire truck to pull his crossbow from the back where he’d stashed it. He steps up to Abraham, who has assumed temporary charge while Rick is gone. Carol stands beside the open passenger door with a CB radio in her hand. She watches the exchange worriedly, and I instantly notice the look she shoots me when Abraham orders me to go with Daryl. I ignore it for now, make sure I have my weapons, and jog to catch up with Daryl who has already wandered into the trees. His figure is dark against the bark of the trees, his shoulders stiff and hunched, his footsteps silent as he picks his way through the woods. I try to follow as quietly as possible. Daryl ignores me for the most part, only giving me attention when he tells me to stop so he can examine the forest floor.

He spears six squirrels altogether, tying them up on a string he keeps around his neck. When he bags a wild turkey, he hands the thing wordlessly to me by its feet. He doesn’t turn away immediately, his eyes examining me the same way they study the ground.

“Don’t talk much do ya?” he grunts finally. He jerks his head, freeing his face from some of his hair, and I am able to finally make out the color of his eyes. They’re blue, but they aren’t like Rick’s. Rick’s are light and icy, while Daryl’s are storming, a lifetime of horrors swimming in their depths.

I shrug one shoulder and worry my lip between my teeth. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say. Ain’t gonna ask if you’re all right, ‘cause it’s clear you’re not. But you clearly ain’t one for talking yourself. I’m just here to make sure you don’t run into trouble.”

He grunts again and turns away. “Can handle my damn self.”

“I believe that. But not in your current state of mind.” I step across a fallen log. “Better safe than sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything, and by the time we return to the group, our arms laden with fresh meat, we have another death to mourn. Tyreese was bitten on the scout, and so he is buried right beside Beth, his signature hat placed on his cross. Sasha is beside herself, pacing the side of the road like a wild animal. Rick suggests we move on and find somewhere to camp for the night; he doesn’t want to spend the night with ghosts, and I can’t quite blame him.

Carol rides in the fire truck this time, sitting almost possessively beside Daryl as I am forced to the other side of the truck. I sit behind Rosita’s seat, my back pressed uncomfortably against some firefighting equipment. My knees are bent with my arms resting on them as I pick at my nails. My arm is still sore, but since there is no bite to speak of, I don’t worry about it. Bruises fade with time. The hairs on my arms raise with that feeling again, and I sneakily cast a glance at Daryl; his blue eyes are on me beneath that curtain of dark hair, and I would kill to be a fly on the wall in his mind. Just as quickly, I look away, again not missing the slight glare Carol sends my way or her body shifting closer to Daryl’s.

I shuffle against the wall and lean my head against the seat in front of me, the movement of the firetruck lulling me to sleep.