Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After Washington had declared a state of emergency, all broadcasting systems had turned into a repetitive informative paragraph. Most had turned the message off, already preparing to move towards declared safe zones, staying in their own or neighboring homes, or other places they thought were safe enough to ride out until the whole thing ended.

When the group used the cop radio out of Shane’s police car, they only knew how to work one channel, and other than that, they couldn’t get much use out of it. Only Shane was briefly aware of how the thing actually worked, and he only knew the very basics that allowed him to do his job as a sheriff's deputy. Nobody even wanted to talk about the cop’s walkies, as they quickly realized that they suck to actually crap, much to Rick’s frustration. He knew he should’ve figured out another means of contact for Morgan and Duane, but at the time they seemed like such a good idea.

Now, as he crouched against a hill every single morning, he’d talk to ghosts with no answer. He hoped that he somehow was able to reach the father and son who saved his life in the beginning of this mess. But as the echoing radio static continued, he knew that there was little to no hope.

More problems arose as the group moved forward, though, causing the issue with the radio to be lower on his priorities. Atlanta had fallen long before Rick had ever woken up from his coma. Safety had suddenly become a pipe dream rather than an objective.

The group’s camp became overrun, forcing them to leave in fear of more walkers coming up the hills from the city. They lost people, nearly the whole camp. Including the sister of Andrea and a close friend, Jim, who’d died later on. They traveled to the CDC in hopes of answers. All they found was a single man on the brink of insanity due to grief. They left in the midst of its destruction, losing another member, Jaqui, who had given up. Then they tried to go back to another survivor's group in the city at the old folks home. What they found instead was a place of executions and corpses picked clean of resources.

Their next destination was Ft. Benning. It was suggested by Shane before they went to the CDC and became the last option for the idea of safety. The only problem is that it was about one hundred and twenty miles away from where they were. Travel came with its own issues. Any food they initially had at the CDC was gone in the explosion, as was water. Space became another issue. Shane’s jeep ran out of gas in a bad spot, and if it wasn’t for Daryl, then the man would’ve been left behind to the walkers. After finding what was left of the old folks home, Daryl’s car had been left as well as T-Dog’s church van to try and gather what little gas they had left.

Most of them were piled into Dale’s RV and forced to find any available spot to sit. It was worse at night, when everyone slept in the vehicle, mostly on the floor. Luckily, during travel they could still use Carol’s Cherokee, and Daryl used his motorcycle to scout ahead.

Two days into travel, their luck worsened when the RV’s radiator hose busted in the middle of a car pileup. To their luck, they were in an abandoned car pile-up, so they knew that they were more than likely able to find not only a radiator hose but other resources as well.

T-dog and Daryl went the furthest up the accident in an attempt to get gas and scavenge in vehicles further away. Carol, Lori, and their kids moved slowly through the wreckage in search of food and more clothes. The mothers were nervous, clutching their kids close to themselves and quickly moving them past the vehicles that held the corpses of their past occupants. They prayed to themselves quietly that none of those bodies moved.

Once Dale had pushed the RV’s engine job on Glenn, he went up on his roof as a lookout to assist Rick. Glenn got Shane to help him find the radiator hose. Andrea quickly got tired of looking through cars, and after a quick look at a child’s pink backpack lying ominously on the ground, she decided to go back to the RV.

After an hour without incident, the group finally began to relax. They found gas, water, clothes, and an adequate hose they could use for the RV. Some of them began to laugh and joke around. Even the moms loosened up enough for them to let their kids move a few feet away from them.

That was until Dale saw them. He alerted Rick, who saw the undead man through the scope of his rifle. One was easy; he could handle the one and rush everyone back into the cars no problem. He lifted his rifle, carefully aiming for the middle of the walker’s head. He caught movement on the corner of his scope. A second walker. Moving it a little further was a third. Tenth. Twenty.

Quiet warnings traveled from person to person. Tentative relief turned quickly into horror as everyone on the ground shuffled under the cars in hopes of not being known. Dale, still being on top of the RV, was the safest pressed on top of the roof. Second by second, hundreds of feet slowly shuffled past person to person, bringing the scent of decay and snarls with them.
The children trembled a few cars away from their parents. Close enough to see, but too far away to reach them. Lori muffled her friend with her hand as Carol tried to gasp out her daughter’s name. Rick locked eyes with his wife and child, his hand up in a silent gesture to stay put.

Ahead of them, blood splattered on the ground as T-Dog cut himself on a broken car door in his panic. He was too large to fit under any of the cars around him, and it was useless anyway as the scent of his blood spilled past his fingers. Behind them, a walker stepped through the cheap and fraying door of the RV. Andrea huddled into the small bathroom and frantically attempted to reassemble her gun.

Shane had dismantled it earlier for cleaning, and being unfamiliar with the weapon, she was unable to figure out how to put it back together. She panicked and dropped a piece. Silence.
T-Dog had clearly cut open a vein, with how much was spilling onto the concrete. He began to lose his balance as he fled from the oncoming horde. Andrea put her feet against the flimsy door, hearing the sound of harsh breathing behind it.

The creature slammed its body against the door with a roar. Any strength the thing had in it was put forth in an effort to reach its prey. Andrea cried out, kicking her feet against the door to flatten it out as the walker managed to get a hand through. She glanced up at the skylight, seeing Dale on the other side. The old man took no more time before taking the flathead screwdriver out of his pocket and busting through the screen. Andrea caught the tool as it dropped down and took a first look at the monster on the other side of the door.

Skinny, with a face like a drug addict, the thing growled at her with its closed mouth. Evidently something, maybe even the thing itself, had eaten its lips and flesh around its mouth, exposing its rotten, crooked teeth. She continued to fit with it against the door.

Meanwhile, another walker seemed to have caught onto T-Dog’s scent, rushing towards the scent of fresh blood. The man had lost too much blood at this point and fell back disoriented. The walker spotted him and quickly stumbled towards the man as he tried to crawl backwards. However, luck seemed to be on his side, as Daryl, who was previously underneath a truck, gracefully rolled out and ran to the other man’s aid.

A grunt left the redneck as he stabbed the creature in the back of the head. It spasmed in his arms before finally falling to the concrete, dead. Daryl panted, locking eyes with T-Dog’s wide and frightened eyes.

Andrea gathered herself in the tiny bathroom and held the screwdriver ready at her head. Letting go of the door, the walker slammed the door open and pounced forward snarling. With a war cry, the woman leapt towards the creature, stabbing the walker in its right eye. She stabbed it again and pushed it against the wall across from the bathroom. It began to scream, similar to a pig in distress, and kept coming at her.

Andrea stabbed it a third and fourth time, the walker’s blood splattering and dripping down her neck. The walker stumbled to the side and fell to the floor, where Andrea stabbed it for her fifth and final time. The creature, now dead, was leaking blood through the linoleum floor of the RV. Andrea crawled away from it, sobbing in both fear and relief, and slumped against the wall.

Daryl quietly shushed T-Dog before grabbing his legs and yanking him down to the ground. The man groaned in pain, panting heavily as his adrenaline ran out. Daryl, thinking quickly, picked up the walker he just killed by its shirt and pulled it over the injured man. He then ran over to another corpse that was sitting in a nearby car and placed it on top of himself. His heavy breathing slowed and muffled as footsteps approached the pair. The herd had reached them.

In the back of the pileup, however, there was silence. The sound of shuffling feet disappeared, as didthe sight of any walker. Those squeezed under the cars looked around hesitantly, then collectively sighed in relief as the terror seemed to have passed by them.

Sophia, Carol’s daughter, moved first. It shouldn’t have been her. But she was frightened at the sight of the monsters and wanted her mother. It was not too long ago that those same monsters had torn apart her father in their tent. It wasn’t too much of a hit to her; her father was not a good man, but the image of the half-eaten corpse that was Ed Peletier still haunted her both in dreams and awake. She wanted her mom.

Just as she pushed her head out from under the car, she coincidentally made eye contact with one of the walkers that had hung back. She yelped in fright as the creature hissed, seeing its prey, and charged. This one was a lot quicker than most of its kind, leaving the adults with not much time as it jumped under Sophia’s car and crawled after her.

The little girl sobbed and screamed as she shuffled herself and her little doll across the street. Carol screamed and struggled against Lori’s grip as she attempted to go towards her child. Lori, now knowing that walkers still remained around the pileup, held on tightly to her friend while sending a pleading look towards her husband.

Rick calculated his move and started to shuffle out from under his car. Another scream left Sophia’s lips, and in her fear, she bolted out from under the car and ducked under the metal railing. A second walker was behind the first, and both began to go after her. Sophia, looking back and seeing two hot on her tail, shuffled down the ditch that sat on the side of the road on her bottom and ran into the woods.

Rick, finally out from under the car, jumped over the railing, only to slip on the wet dirt and tumble down into the woods. His rifle had disappeared in the fall, but he didn’t take any time looking for it and sprinted after the girl and the two walkers chasing after her.

Even though Rick was still quite injured from his gunshot wound and subsequent coma he suffered about a week ago. He managed to catch up to Sophia and grabbed her. This is where the man made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

He was unable to shoot the two creatures stumbling towards them under the threat of alerting the group that was just slightly further up the road. He could definitely outrun the pair, but with the creatures having unstoppable endurance, they’d catch up to them eventually. He knew no one else from the group would go out to follow them. None of them would have any idea where they are, maybe with the exception of Daryl.

With a frightened look back, Rick saw that the walkers had caught up to them. He picked Sophia up with a pained grunt and carried her further in the woods, and they stopped seeing the small creek. Without thought he jumped in. Spotting the hidden hole on the side of the creek bed, hidden behind large tree roots, he set the young girl down and instructed her to get inside.

“No! Don’t leave me.” She begged the older man. Rick crouched down to her level and spoke clearly like he did with Carl. He quietly explained that he was going to come back for her, but he had to take out the two walkers one at a time. The girl nodded in understanding and went to squeeze between the pieces of thick roots. Right before Rick left her, he quickly gave instructions on how to get back to the highway. Once again, she nodded in understanding.

Rick opened his mouth again. Then his head snapped up at the sound of rustling brush. The walkers stood over the man and shuffled forward. With a shout, Rick splashed creek water at the monsters until they too fell into the water. He ran, making sure the two walkers followed him and left Sofia behind in the hole.

The young girl waited, clutching her dirty doll tightly to her chest, and counted to one hundred. When no one came around, she then counted to two hundred. Then three hundred. Then four hundred. Finally, when she reached five hundred, she slipped out the hole. Her shoes, socks, and the bottom of her pant legs were soaked in muddy water. She got more mud on herself as she scrambled up the creek bed on her hands and knees.

Rick had told her to keep the sun on her left shoulder. Her old teacher, Ms. Maisle, had taught her the trick to determine her right from left. Holding her pointer finger and thumb out in an L shape, she turned her body sharply to feel the sun’s warmth on that shoulder. She moved forward quickly, not slow enough to be a run, but not so fast as to be at a full sprint. She jumped at every sound, pausing for a moment to look around. Throughout her attempted journey back there was no sign of Rick nor the two walkers.

The distinct sound of a branch snapping made her stop again. That was a sound she had not yet heard from anything except herself. She glanced in the direction of the sound, seeing nothing but the green foliage. “Mr. Grimes.” She whispered hesitantly. No answer.

Then she heard a different sound. One that made the goosebumps rise on her arms and her hair stand on end. Her whole body froze. She was all alone this time; no adult was going to come after her. Grey-skinned hands grabbed at the tree in the nearby distance and pulled the walker forward. It hadn’t seen her yet. It was just wandering aimlessly like those on the highway. Sofia’s breath hitched, muscle clenching tightly.

She bolted in the other direction, trying to keep as quiet as possible while still being quick. It was stupid of her to try and go back on her own, she thought to herself. Mr. Grimes had probably gotten back to the creek and found her gone. Now, as she was running away from a different monster, he was never going to find her. Her mom is going to be so upset. How many times had she made her mother cry? Too many, and even with her father gone, she was still making her cry.

She tripped and hit the ground with a cry, her elbow smacking sharply on an ill-placed rock. A sob left her lips. She was lost. She was lost and was never going to see her mom again. The thought sent panic straight through her chest. “Mr. Grimes.” She yelled out. Nothing. “Mom!” Again, nothing. “Momm—” A pair of hands grasped at her hips. “No!” She screamed. The hands swiftly pulled the child up toward his warm body. One arm had wrapped tightly around her waist, another tucking her head gently against their shoulder. Sophia continued to scream.

“Hush, Bambina. Shh!” A male voice hissed sharply. “You are not safe here.” Sophia panted, her eyes that she didn’t remember squeezing opened. The unknown man holding her began to run. He was much faster than Rick. Behind him stood four walkers, all of whom were staring darkly at her. She looked away and buried her face against the stranger's neck. His hair was long and curly and smelled nicely of eucalyptus.

The strange man could run for a long time with her. Every once in a while, he’d stop, change direction, and continue running. Sophia hoped the sun was still to the left. She prayed that they’d come up over an edge and the RV would be right there where her mom was waiting. Instead of an RV, though, the man stopped at a metal ladder. He put her down, breathing harshly, and she waited in fear.

“Go. Up!” He exclaimed, making her jump. She hesitantly grabbed the first rung, looking back and seeing the man stare at her expectantly. She grabbed the second one and pulled herself up. To her dismay, the man began to follow closely behind her. One after another, Sophia went higher and higher off the ground. She kept her eyes forward, fearful that if she stopped for any reason the man would get mad at her. Eventually, the stranger ordered her to stop. She froze. A sharp grunt and squeak later, she was looking up into a dark abyss.

“Come on, Bambina.” The man urged. With no other option, Sophia scrambled through the open door. It was dark. She hated the dark. Crawling forward, she slowly shuffled until she hit wood. She heard the stranger also haul himself up into the structure with a groan. The door swung shut, leaving them both in total darkness.

Sofia began to hyperventilate. A year ago, at her school, a police officer had told her about this kind of situation. How a stranger would snatch up little girls like her and take them away from their moms forever. “I want Mommy!” She sobbed.

The man didn’t answer her right away. Instead, two squeaks were heard, and suddenly there was light. The man was crouched over a small lantern. With it lit, he finally stood up and moved closer to her. Sophia flinched back, causing the man to stop. He crouched down to her level slowly, not unlike how Rick did not too long ago.

“I’ll get you to your mom, Bambina. But not yet. It’ll be dark soon, and we don’t want to be around those things in the dark, do we?” He asked her in a clear and soft tone. Sophia thought back to the final night at the campsite. How they were all laughing and joking around, only for the atmosphere to change at the sight of a walker sinking its teeth into Amy’s arm. Screaming, growls, blood, death, the shattering booms of guns, quiet, and finally crying. Sophia shook her head.

The man looked at her with pity. It was then that Sophia finally got to take in the stranger’s appearance. She could see now that instead of an older man like she had initially thought, he was a lot younger. She could see Glenn becoming close to this person simply because of their close age. His eyes were a pretty dark brown, as was his hair that brushed against his shoulders in thick curls. He was skinny like Glenn was too, but dressed in a lot darker clothes.

Stranger straightened up and walked away from her. Instinctively, she also relaxed. Her fingers brushed up against what she now recognized as a wooden table leg. She started to rub her hand up and down the wooden end to distract herself. She glanced over and saw Stranger rustling through a red and black backpack and put her attention back to the table leg.

“Hungry?” Stranger asked. She said nothing. He hummed at her lack of response. He threw something at her, and she was startled as it hit her foot. A small bag of Teddy Grahams and a mini water bottle lay next to her. “Eat as much as you want. Dinner will be half a can of ranch-style beans.” The man stopped what he was doing and looked back at her. “Or a can of Spaghetti O’s if you want.”

Silence echoed through the structure until she let out a soft murmur. “Spaghetti O’s.” She answered.

Stranger smiled. “Good choice. I hate Spaghetti O’s.”

Sophia gave a shaky smile back. “I hate beans.”

The man let out a small chuckle and set his bag against the old couch. “Well, until we depart in the morning, let me give you the grand tour.” He pointed above Sophia’s head. That there is where I eat.” He pointed to the sofa. “That’s where I sleep.” He moved to the metal box lying on the floor. “And there is where I listen to the radio.”

“Radio?” Sophia asked.

Stranger nodded. “Yeah, remember when all those robot messages from the government came on when everything went down?” Sophia nodded, remembering. On the way to the big city, her dad tried to get to any station that wasn’t on those “damn government people.” Evidently, he wasn’t able to find one and slammed the radio off with a curse. Her mom suggested they’d use the CD player, only for her dad to snap at her.

Stranger continued. “And have any of your people attempted to use a radio afterwards?”

Again, she nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Shane had the radio on his police scanner, and Mr. Grimes had a walkie-talkie, although it sucked to crap.”

Stranger looked amused. “Well, I have something similar to those, except that the range is way bigger than either of those and doesn’t “suck to crap,” as you put it.

Sophia flushed in embarrassment. “So you can talk with other people?”

Stranger hummed. “More like I try to listen to them.”

Sophia didn’t really get it. “Why do you listen to them? Why not talk to them?” She questioned.

Stranger turned around and sat by the radio. “Because I don’t know what kind of person I’m talking to. Mainly, I use this to protect myself from other people.”

Sophia kind of understood. But not really. “Okay.” She shrugged. She decided it didn’t really matter in this case if she understood or not.

Stranger seemed to get that message as well and rolled his eyes while fiddling with the radio. Sophia looked away from him, still preferring a certain distance between them, and started to eat her snack. A smile lifted on her face as she ate. Luckily, the bears hadn’t gone stale yet and were quite good. The water felt nice to drink as well. Finishing off the small bag of bears, she reached over to grab her doll, only to feel empty space.

She searched her surroundings, not seeing it, and then began to panic. “My doll!” She cried out.

Stranger startled out of his stupor and whipped his head at her. “What?” He asked.

“My doll! It’s not here.” A sense of sadness filled her chest. The doll in question first belonged to her best friend. Dad refused to let her bring many of her old toys, claiming that it was a waste of space, as he packed the trunk with his beer. What toys she had brought with her had been ruined when her dad passed away, and Mom refused to let her look through any of their stuff that was in their old tent. It was okay though, because Eliza was always willing to share her toys.

She and Eliza met at the campsite and had become fast friends. Eliza liked Sophia’s freckles. Sophia liked Eliza’s hair. They weren’t like Carl, who always acted like a grown-up, nor were they like Eliza's little brother, Louise, who played too rough. When her family decided to leave the group before they left the campsite, they cried. Sophia hugged her tightly and gave her the prettiest hair clip she had. In return, Eliza gave her the doll. The doll reminded her of her friend. Now it’s gone too.

“Don’t cry, Bambina. We’ll find your doll in the morning, okay?” Stranger spoke softly. He had moved closer in her distraction and held out something for her to grab. It was a soft plush bunny. “Here, take it.” Stranger urged. She took the stuffed animal out of his hands and inspected it closely. She then looked back up at the man in confusion. He had a sad look on his face.

“This bunny belongs to my niece. I made it for her as a birthday gift.” His eyes flickered upwards for a moment, then back to her. “How about you hang onto it for me until we find your doll and your mom, okay?”

Sophia turned her head away from Stranger but clutched the doll tightly to her chest. Satisfied, Stranger stood back up and went to his radio. A comfortable silence sat in the room, and if either of the two people in it started to cry, the other didn’t mention it.

Three miles away, Daryl Dixon stopped as he examined Sophia’s tracks. “Huh.” He said.
Rick came up from behind him. “What is it?”

The redneck looked back and forth between the shoe sizes. The small kid-sized shoe was greeted by a set of large, male size 8 boots, and then the kid prints disappeared. He stared further, noticing the boot prints were clearly too coordinated and fast to be a walker. He straightened up, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach. “Something picked her up and carried her that way.” He pointed to the left of them, where a small bit of brush was trampled on.
Rick hissed in a sharp exhale. “A walker?” He asked.

“Not likely.” Daryl shook his head and hovered over the boot print. “See the evenness of each boot track. Walker’s would be all over the place with each step. Something’s messed up with their equilibrium, makes ‘em clumsy. An’ see how deep the toe goes into the dirt? Dude must’ve flyin’ on his toes.”

Rick took in the information the tracker gave him and looked at their surroundings. After a moment he spoke. “There’d be more than just these tracks if it was a walker, right? Only a living person would just pick up a person and run away with them.”

Daryl grunted in agreement. “Right.”

Neither man moved for a second. Then Rick spoke. “This didn’t happen. We tell no one of these tracks. Bad enough people think she went into the woods to die, but to say that this happened they would—” He stopped, but the implication was there. They knew what most of the group would think. Hell, they knew that Shane would say it out loud.

Either way, both men knew. Sophia was alive and with a stranger. Daryl looked up at the sky. “Gonna be too dark to see any tracks soon. Better head back.”

Rick nodded. Both of them turned around and went back to pile up, a sick sense of horror locking in their guts.

Chapter Text

“So,” Andrea spoke as the group moved through the woods. “Are we going to talk about that message on that car radio?” They were all looking for Sofia with the exception of Dale, who still needed to fix the RV, and T-Dog, who was still injured from his accident the day before. Daryl was unusually leading this time, his tracking skills making him the most useful member.

He declared earlier that they’d stick by the creek, claiming it as the girl’s only landmark. Subtly, he shared a glance with Rick and showed his real intentions. That’s where the boot tracks were last heading. Some of the group, like Carol, looked around sharply, trying to note anything around them that might bring them to Sofia. Others, like Andrea, looked with a more casual demeanor.

“Didn’t mean anything.” Shane declared from the back. “Just some asshole telling us what we already know. Was the same as it was before everything was gone.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Glenn argued. “The signal always said to go to Atlanta. They never announced anything different after they napalmed the city.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Shane snapped, shutting down the conversation. Glenn shut his mouth, but Daryl’s mind whirled with the information. Yesterday, while he and Rick tracked Sofia, everyone else stayed back and busied themselves by moving the cars off the road. One little blue car still had its radio on when Shane and the rest of them heard it.

“Atlanta has fallen. There is no hope. Stay away from the city at all costs. Repeat. Atlanta has fallen”. Just a constant loop running over and over in an overtly human voice. Dale claimed that since it was a local channel it must’ve been within a fifty-mile radius.

Shane dismissed it, and everyone dropped it, but Daryl had a weird feeling in his gut. He just didn’t have anything to back up his gut just yet.

The bright yellow of the tent caught his eye. Slowly, he raised a silent hand up and pointed Rick to it. They locked eyes, thinking of the same thing. The boot prints. Daryl crouched down, with Rick following and giving orders for everyone else to do the same. “She could be in there.” Shane proposed, not really believing it.

“Could be a bunch of things in there.” Daryl retorted, moving forward, crossbow raised. There was no sign of life. Just the tent and trash littering around it. Rick had everyone stay back while he and Shane followed behind him. Daryl stopped about ten feet away, making two hand gestures at the men, and pulled out his knife. He walked the last bit himself and placed down his bow as he reached the flap. Peeking through the gaped entrance, he saw nothing. He tried the side a little bit under the rain protectant. Nothing. He looked at the leader of the group and shrugged.

Rick called over Carol. She hurried over and listened to Rick’s instructions carefully while Daryl stood ready. “Sofia.” She hesitantly called out. “Sweetie, are you in there? Sofia, it’s Mommy.” Nothing. No movement. No sound.

Carol started to get desperate. “Sofia, we’re all here, baby. It’s Mommy.” Again, nothing happened. Rick carefully moved forward to Daryl, and the man began to slowly unzip the rest of the tent. He opened it, and they both looked to see a corpse sitting with its back to them in the lawn chair. They both coughed at the smell.

Daryl went into it alone. He looked over the corpse, grimacing at the fat maggots crawling around its face. “Daryl?” Carol called out. He ignored her, looking down at the corpse’s hand and seeing nothing. He looked under the chair and saw it. An empty, orange pill bottle. Under a shirt, he almost missed it: the corner of a gun. Confused, he moved closer to the guy and cautiously looked up at his missing jaw. There was a small puncture hole, likely from a rod or small bullet. A bullet way too small to be from the gun tucked under the shirt. A silent note of how anything of value- food, water, first aid- had been taken.

“Daryl?” Carol called out again. Snatching the gun, he shoved it into his pants and flung himself out of the tent.

“It ain’t her.” He told the group, taking in gulps of clean air.

“What’s in there?” Andrea asked.

“Some guy. Did what Jenner said. Opted out. Ain’t that what he called it?” He paused, contemplating. “Just he didn't do it right. Somebody else came along and did the job before cleanin’ ‘im out.”

He looked at Rick again and received an expression of skepticism. Fine, he thought to himself. So, everything isn’t the cause of one guy. Just seemed like an awfully big coincidence. He felt like they walked into a dangerous creature's territory in some awful C-rated movie, and these guys refused to see it. He shifted his shoulders in uncomfortableness at the thought. He didn’t know if it made him want to shake this person’s hand or flee in the opposite direction of this place.

Church bells began to ring nearby, and everybody snapped their heads up. Without another thought, the group all leapt towards the sound, towards the idea of Sophia, and all other thoughts ran out of Daryl’s head.

Three and a half miles away, Sophia woke up late. Not that it was her fault. Back at the campsite, their old tent had always woken her and her mom up with the sun shining through the plastic-y fabric. The treehouse only had one window, and it was boarded up tightly with old wood from a fence.

After a delicious dinner of canned Spaghetti O’s and water, Stranger had set her up on the old sofa couch with her new bunny that she had named Amy and his coat. She had woken up gently to the sound of muffled talking and turned her head to stare at Stranger. He had a look on his face, similar to the one Mom always had when her father was coming home after work.

“What’s wrong?” She asked in a sleepy mumble.

Stranger startled and, exactly as her mother used to do, sent her a reassuring little smile. “Nothing.” He dismissed quietly with a small wave of his hand. He gently took off his headphones and approached her. “Sleep alright?” Sophia gave a little nod. “Good. So give me just a minute and we’ll leave in search of your mama, okay?”

Again, Sophia nodded, then became confused. “Was that her on the radio?” She asked Stranger as he began to gather his stuff.

Another look crossed Stranger’s face. He gave her another smile, this one a little more strained. “No, it wasn’t. Don’t worry about it. Do you know anything about where your mama was besides that you guys were on a highway?”

Sofia thought about it. “Mr. Grimes told me to keep the sun on my shoulder.”

Stranger thinned his lips. “Which one?”

Sofia lifted her hands, trying to remember the trick. “Left.” She answered with some hesitation.

Stranger began to mumble to himself. “Late afternoon. Left shoulder is west. That means that she was going North.” He started to talk to her a little bit louder. “Alright, Bambina. It might take us a little longer to get to her, but I think we’ll make it to your mama by the evening.” With that said, he turned and began to pack his things, extra water, two packages of Teddy Grahams, and two other things in small cans.

Excitement rose up in the small girl, and she happily clutched her rabbit by the trapdoor. Although she was willing to wait patiently, she could not stop the sway of heels moving her back and forth that showed her anxiety. Stranger chuckled at the sight of her and picked up his black jacket from the couch. He put it on and then hauled the backpack on his front. He then walked over to the table and shoved a small handgun in his pants. He paused for a second before grabbing the other item and walking towards her.

“We’re going to do a quick trade before we get down, okay?” He continued until she nodded. “You’re going to give the toy and put this in your back pocket.” He showed her his hand. Sitting in his palm was a small pocket knife. Sofia looked at the knife and then the rabbit. She really didn’t want to give up Amy. But she also really didn’t want to disobey Stranger. Daddy had always been really nice until she messed up. Then he got angry.

She gave Stranger the toy. It wasn’t really hers anyway. It was for Stranger’s niece. Slightly surprised at the lack of fuss, Stranger took the rabbit and put it in the front pocket and handed Sofia the pocket knife. Quickly he demonstrated how to open and close the knife and waited until she could successfully do it herself.

Grunting softly, he pushed the door open and stopped Sophia from going out. “Me first.” He ordered while stepping onto the first rung. When he got far enough down, he gave the okay, and Sophia rushed to follow him. Going down was a lot easier than going up. Sophia didn’t have to be scared this time, and it wasn’t getting dark.

When she got far enough, Stranger asked her to wait while he closed the door. At about jumping distance, he again asked her to wait. She watched as he hit the ground softly and gave a slow turn in all directions. He stopped facing the ladder, sending her a silent nod. She didn’t jump, not confident in her ability to catch herself, but carefully climbed the rest of the way down. Stranger patted her head and gave her back her toy as a reward.

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a dark green knitting needle. Satisfied, he moved the bag from his front to his back after looking out in one direction with his eyes narrowed. “Come on.” He urged Sophia without explaining. Sophia wondered what was back there and if it was the reason they were heading in the opposite direction.

The church bells turned out to be a bust for the group. It seemed that the old church didn’t even have bells. Just a speaker set up on a timer. Frankly, the whole place just creeped Daryl out. Especially the three walkers that were in there just blankly staring at the statue of Jesus nailed to the cross. Carol had gone back to the church, probably to beg the man upstairs for her daughter back, with the Grimes family following after her. Daryl didn’t follow her. He knew better than to ask God for favors.

He instead searched the cemetery surrounding the church, looking not just for the shoe prints of a little girl. There was nothing. Tired, the man went and joined the others in the shade of the trees. “Ain’t nothing here. Not even a boot print.” He said. He didn’t look at Carol. Couldn’t. “The bells might’ve turned people away instead of drawing ‘em on account of the dead being attracted to noise.”

A sigh moved through the group. “Makes sense with how loud those things were.” Andrea replied. Nobody said anything for a moment. Letting the hope slowly slip away from them.

“Mom, I’m thirsty.” Carl broke through the silence. Lori looked at her twelve-year-old, who insisted on coming with them, and took off her bag.

“Here you go.” She said, giving her child her water bottle. Carl took a few drinks and handed it back to his mother. She herself took a drink before shoving the item back in her bag. By that point, Rick and Shane had finished their conversation they were having a little bit away and went back to the group.

Shane rubbed his hand through his curly hair, stressed. “Y’all gonna follow the creek bed back, okay? Daryl, you’re in charge.” Great. Daryl hated being in charge. It seemed like so much work. Shane continued. “Me and Rick, we’re just going to hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough.”

“You splitten’ up us up. You sure?” Daryl asked. It wasn’t like Rick or Shane had any skill in tracking. Cops or not, he wouldn’t have placed his trust in them having any luck. He also started to feel a weird twinge in his gut whenever Shane was around Rick or Lori alone. He wasn’t an idiot. Shane and Lori screwed around quite obviously back at the camp, and Shane and Rick seemed to have verbal arguments just about every day now.

Shane nodded. “Yeah, we’ll catch up to you.” Then Carl piped up, wanting to go with them. Shane glanced at Rick, who looked at Lori, who agreed. She hugged her boy tightly and kissed her husband. Daryl looked away from the couple and saw a silent exchange occur between Shane and Andrea. He looked back at the Grimes family. No way was he touching that with a ten-foot pole.

Rick let go of Lori and pulled out his gun. “Here, take this.” He held the weapon out to her. “Remember how to use it.” Lori refused it, stating the fact that he’d be unarmed.

Daryl stepped in. “Here, got a spare. Take it.” He handed her the dead man’s gun. Andrea scoffed in disbelief behind him. He ignored it and started to lead the group. Behind him, Rick, Shane, and Carl went in the other direction. Then, as they reached the end of the cemetery, he froze.

A size male’s eight boot print. “Daryl, what is it?” Carol asked him. He picked up his head, seeing confused expressions of the group.

He adjusted the strap on his crossbow. “Gonna take a small detour.” He started to walk off to the left. Behind him, Glenn and the three women all shared confused looks. They followed after the redneck.

Unfortunately, he quickly came to the realization once again that he was, in fact, traveling with a bunch of city folk who didn’t quite understand the terrain of the Georgia wilderness. Every stumble and pause they made seemed to slow them down exponentially, making his temper rise.

“So this is it?” Carol asked. “This is the whole plan?” She sat down, and if it wasn’t Carol, then Daryl would have exploded.

“I guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups.” He sighed. The boot prints were still there, zigzagging every so often to try and lose their presence. Whoever this guy is, he was smart enough to get a walker off of his tail, but he didn’t account for a tracker.

“And we’re carrying knives and pointy sticks.” Andrea commented with a sneer. “I see you have a gun.” Daryl didn’t know why Andrea was so insistent on a gun when she didn’t even know about the safety lock until about a week ago.

It appeared that pushing Queen Bee’s buttons was the wrong call because she immediately gave Andrea her harshest look. “You want it?” She asked. “Here, take it.” She held the dead man’s gun out to Andrea. “I’m sick of the looks you're giving me.” Glenn looked at Daryl with a helpless expression, and he shrugged. He doesn’t understand women either. Andrea took the gun, and Lori sat down on the same tree Carol was on. “All of you.” Even lowering her voice didn’t seem to hinder the passive aggressiveness underneath her words. Daryl would hate to be Rick during one of their fights.

Lori turned herself to Carol. “Hunny, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and I would do anything to stop it. But you have got to stop blaming Rick. It is in your face every time you look at him.” Carol looked away from her friend. Lori continued onwards anyway. Talking about how her husband was doing all the hard choices so they didn’t have to. That he was taking care of all of them, not out of obligation and not with a second of doubt. She looked at each one of them and asked if they’d do the same.

Daryl didn’t know the answer himself. Did he save T-Dog back on the highway? Yes, he did. Did he hunt and provide food for these people even for what they did to his brother? Yes, he did. But he also remembered the comments he made about these people. Cruel insults he basically threw into the wind without thought or care. What he and his brother had planned back at the camp. What he’d likely still do if Merle was still here. Again, he thought about the man he was following and who he was. Is he a Rick or a Merle? Is he someone more monstrous than either of those men?

“Any of you want to take my husband’s place, go right ahead. Nobody’s stopping you. Hell, I'd even shake your hand.” With that, Lori had said what she wanted, chugged the rest of her water and threw it back in her pack. Nobody said anything.

Eventually, Andrea gave her the gun back. “We should keep moving.” She told her quietly. Lori stood up and marched over to Daryl, maintaining eye contact. She wasn’t afraid of him. Never was. Simply kept quiet to keep the peace for the sake of her child. He looked at her with acknowledgement. He saw her, what she does, and why she did it.

No matter what anybody said or thought, Lori Grimes did about as much of the ugly work as her husband did. They continued walking. Daryl looked down at the prints, anxiety and hope rising up in his stomach as a sort of nauseous excitement.

Then a shot rang out through the woods, causing the group to freeze in their tracks. They waited. But nothing came. No scream. No horde of walkers. Not even another gunshot. Just the one singular shot.

Daryl’s muscles twitched like they did when he was young and his father had just come crashing through the door. He felt like the deer that he hunts. Frightened, yet anticipating. Everyone looked at him, lost and unsure of what to do. He pulled himself together without changing his expression. “Let’s get back to the creek.” He said.

“Minor change of plans, Bambina.” Stranger told Sophia about half a mile away from the group. Sophia looked up at the man from where she was clutching at his shirt in fear. They too had heard the gunshot, and they too had frozen like frightened animals.

“What about my mom?” She asked.

A gentle hand ran through her blonde hair. “She’ll still wait for you even if it’s a longer wait.” Even if that was true, it didn’t change that her mom was going to feel nervous until she found her. The sun was now high up in the sky, about to go down like it did yesterday and every day before that. “I don’t wanna wait.” She cried.

This was the longest she’d ever been without her mom, and as nice as Stranger had been, he was no mom. “I’m sorry, Bambina. But we can’t risk it.” Stranger spoke in that soft tone that adults did to try to sound comforting. He was looking back in the direction he had been for the past few hours. He turned back around and turned to the right.

Sophia sniffed and wiped her nose. She followed Stranger, this time a little slower. Having Stranger was still better than being alone again. Those few moments were a nightmare, and not one she’d repeat. Amy was still softer than her previous doll but didn’t seem to have the same weight.

It was evening by the time she saw their destination. Instead of seeing the highway and her mom as promised, she spotted a farmhouse. “Come on, Bambina. Just a little further and we’ll rest.” Stranger called back. Rest sounded good to Sophia. The place wasn’t protected by the shade of the trees, so the summer sun had fried just about all the surrounding long grass with the exception of a bush or two and some pretty little flowers. She’d like to pick one for her mom later.

The house was like everything around it, dried out and dusty, making Sophia miss the treehouse. The door was broken, so Stranger could just give it a little push, and they were inside. The place was so empty. Nothing like the house she used to live in. Her mom used to bake whenever she was stressed or when bad things happened. Cupboards and shelves in the kitchen were filled with appliances and foodstuff. Here was bare and empty, so much so that it kind of creeped her out.

Stranger had her stay there while he went upstairs. She listened as the stairs creaked loudly under his feet with each step until he reached the second floor. The silence. She waited. Amy hadn’t gotten too dirty during their hike. Button eyes and a smiling threaded face were still there for Stranger’s niece to follow.

A sudden bang made her jump. She clutched the bunny to her chest and looked back at the stairs. She wanted to call out, but her jaw had locked shut. Her heart pounded like a jackrabbit when the stairs creaked.

Stranger came around the corner, face unconcerned, and dropped his bag. “Ate all the good stuff yesterday, Bambina.” He looked at her with a grimacing smile. “Looks like canned sardines for dinner.”

Sophia gaped at the man with horrifying disgust. “Ew.” She exclaimed, her nose scrunching. Stranger laughed at her face.

“It’s not so bad. Think of it like… dining at a fancy seafood restaurant. Pinch your nose with that idea, and they become just like they would be served in that restaurant.” Stranger waved his arms with a dramatic flair.

Sophia didn’t believe a word he was saying. “Really?” She asked with skepticism.

Stranger tilted his head, making his curls fall onto his face. “Oh, you don’t believe me, Bambina? I’m from Boston, love. I know everything there is to know about seafood. Trust me on this, okay?”

Sophia narrowed her eyes at Stranger, still a little suspicious, and many months later, her suspicions would be confirmed. But that evening, she pinched her nose and choked down every last little fish in her can. Stranger tried to keep a straight face at the sight of her. He failed.

Daryl could’ve used a can of sardines at that point after he dragged the group through the woods the entire day. Usually, he’d love being in the woods. He could spend weeks on end living in the Appalachian Mountains with nothing but his knives and crossbow. But if he had to deal with Lori turning around one more time-

As expected, the woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look around. Daryl was not given the patience for this. Everyone else stopped, and he really was about to lose it. Andrea attempts to bring comfort. “Still worried about it?” She asked.

“It was a gunshot.” Lori insisted.

“We all heard it.” Daryl said, confirming it.

Lori’s concern didn’t go away. “Why one? Why just one gunshot?” Daryl suggested a walker, which Lori dismissed immediately, claiming that he’d definitely know that Rick wouldn’t risk a gun out in the open. She was right. He did know. But going into theories and possible sources would only lead to panic and further investigation, something that could kill them all.

Carol looked at Daryl, her voice coming out of her hesitantly. “Shouldn’t they have caught up to us by now?”

He had to speak up. Carol was already scared of the men in the group thanks to the history she’s gained by being married to a piece of shit, and her emotions were clearly heightened by the loss of her child. Not to mention almost everyone with him was also dealing with some sort of emotional spiral: Carol with her lost girl, Lori with her love triangle, Andrea with the death of her sister and attempted suicide, and although Daryl didn’t talk much to Glen, he was sure that there was something up with him too.

Daryl himself had crap as well. It had not been so many days ago when he said good-bye to his older brother, Merle, only for the man to get himself chained up by the new sheriff in town. By the time he reached where the others had claimed to have abandoned his brother, it was already too late. He’d know that rodents, when caught in a trap, would rather chew off their own limbs in order to survive, and nobody had the attitude or face of a rat like Merle did.

He must’ve gotten the idea from Saw, a movie he watched with Daryl a few times since its release in two thousand and four. In the last moments in the film, the doctor guy had been filled with such desperation at saving his wife and daughter that he cut off his own foot that had been shackled to some disgusting bathroom wall with a hacksaw. Merle copied the doc in almost the exact way with his hand. The hand that Daryl found was all that Merle left in his grand escape. The hand that Daryl quietly buried the day they were forced to bury those deceased after the campsite had been overrun.

He hadn’t cried then. There was no point to it. Merle would crawl his ugly way back to them like he always did. Ain’t nobody killin’ his dumbass unless it was him.

“Nothin’ we can do about it anyway. Can’t run around these woods chasin’ echos.” He pointedly looked at both Carol and Lori as he said it.

“So, what do we do?” Lori asked him with a sharp snap. He didn’t take her tone personally.

“Same as we’ve been. Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back up ta’ the highway.” He looked down. The boot prints had long since been lost on their walk. What a shame.

Andrea gave Lori an awkward face before giving Lori some quiet encouragement. It was enough to push Lori to continue moving, a move Daryl silently thanked Andrea for in his head, despite what the woman had openly thought about him and his education. She moved onto Carol, offering her condolences and how she related to the mother’s feelings.
Carol tried to smile, but her expression broke into one of grief. A broken sob left her after thanking the blonde out of politeness. She paused for a moment and spoke. “The thought of her out here by herself… not knowing… it’s killing me. I just keep hoping and praying that she doesn’t wind up like Amy.”

Once the words left the woman’s mouth, everyone collectively winced. Amy was a forbidden topic amongst the group. At the campsite, the college girl was a pretty and bright ball of fun. She was unafraid of being herself at the amusement and teasing of the others. She had stuck close to her big sister, Andrea, most of the time, and when she wasn’t, she was playing with the kids. She died the night of the campsite being overrun. A walker had taken her by surprise by the R.V. and bit into the flesh of her forearm before taking out a chunk of her neck.

Andrea held her sister, soaked in her blood, while Amy bled out through the cut along her jugular vein. Her death was not long, but Andrea continued to comfort her corpse well into the morning. Despite everyone's fear and pleas, Amy was allowed to come back. Not as herself. No. But as one of those things. Although it wasn’t for long that the walker was alive, Andrea shot it in the head after giving her sister many apologies and “I love yous.”

A person could tell when Andrea's face morphed from a comforting smile to something of blank despair that she still remembered every moment of that night. Carol looked like she regretted saying Amy’s name right after she had blurted it out. “Oh, God.” She cried, reaching over to grasp at the woman with comfort. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever said.”

Andrea attempted to not look annoyed. She failed. “We’re all hoping and praying with you. For what it’s worth.”

Daryl couldn’t stand it anymore. The thought of Sophia being like Amy was too much. The little girl with a shy but healthy glow having an unnaturally pale skin and twisted face left a sick feeling in his stomach. Amy’s eyes had once been a shining green and turned into a shocking, almost white color. Would that happen to Sophia? Would her mother wail on top of that small little body like Andrea did?

The boots, he reminded himself. The size eight male boots that made prints in the Georgia mud. They’re with her. They’ll protect Sophia until he can get to her.

He marched up to the two women with renewed determination. “I’ll tell you what it’s worth- not a damn thing.” He shoved his way past Andrea to look Carol in the eye. “Waste of time all this hoping and prayin’. ‘Cause we gonna locate that little girl, an’ she gonna be just fine.” He turned around. “Am I the only one zen around here? Good Lord.” He started his way back up the hill towards the highway while pretending not to see the amusement of everyone behind him.

The atmosphere around them was a lot less tense than before. Sadly, it didn’t mean much to the cause of tracking either the girl or the mysterious stranger. Still, they wandered. Sophia was wearing a blue shirt with a rainbow on it. This should’ve made it easy for them to spot the girl with all the green and brown that surrounded them. However, Sophia was either moved too quickly by the stranger, or their collective eyes failed them because nobody could see a sign of her presence around the creek.

Daryl remembered that he wasn’t with anyone back home. He had to call it quits eventually with these kinds of people. He stopped. “Lose the light before too long. Think we should call it.” He offered it as a suggestion, looking at both Carol and Lori, whose families were still in the woods.

They thought about it. “Let’s head back.” Lori agreed.

Carol looked at her. “Pick it up again tomorrow?”

Lori still looked concerned. “Yeah.” She said after a pause. “We’ll find her tomorrow.” Daryl took their confirmations and gave a short whistle. With a wave, he again turned and started to lead them back to the cars.

No one said much as they walked back, all of them being exhausted from their efforts of searching for Sophia. Daryl always took it upon himself to point out the little things at this point in the journey. For instance, he was thankful that they were all wearing pants while they trekked through knee-high levels of various ivies and bristles. Another thing was that he could catch some dinner for everyone while they were heading back.

“How much farther?” Lori asked with a pant. Being a part of PTA and being a housewife apparently didn’t train the poor woman in unmarked hikes through the woods.

“Not much. Probably a hundred yards as the crow flies.” He answered, mumbling the last bit. His uncle Jessie had always used the saying when he was a kid. He always liked it and remembered always wishing to be a crow.

“Too bad we’re not crows.” Andrea muttered in annoyance. Being a lawyer didn’t train her in hiking either.

The next thing that happened wasn’t Daryl’s fault. They all knew the direction of the pileup was one way. When he and the others maneuvered left around the area of dense brush, he didn’t see Andrea stumble over to the right of it. It wouldn’t have mattered much anyway, her being simply a little ways further down than them. What nobody accounted for was the walker that was wandering over on the right side.

The creature caught her by surprise, and mixed with the blonde’s exhaustion, it cornered her rather easily. Andrea screamed as it snarled loudly in her face, alerting the others of her danger. Without another thought, they ran towards the sound, dense brush obscuring their view. Panicked, Andrea stabbed forward widely with the short knife she was given that morning.

The blade sunk into the torso of the walker with a squishing sound; an injury that would normally take down a person did not slow it down whatsoever. It stuck in the walker's chest, causing the woman to reach closer to it in order not to lose her only weapon. She leaned down awkwardly, grabbing hold of the blade’s handle while also trying to avoid her attackers’ jaws and arms. The result of her position led her to stumble back once her blade was released. A yelp left her lips as her ankle slammed sharply against a hidden stump. She screamed again, hitting the forest floor and trying in vain to crawl back away from the walker. Still the monster advanced, ready to sink its teeth into her like the other walker had with her sister.

By the time the others had reached Andrea, the walker had grabbed ahold of her legs. She continued to scream helplessly, waiting for the inevitable. Daryl raised his crossbow up, ready to hit home. Only he was too slow.

A crash through the brush startled both Andrea and the walker. They looked to see a large creature leap out of the bushes. With no warning the walker flew backwards off of Andrea and into the foliage away from her. Andrea sat up slowly, the shock of her ordeal overcoming her.

The horse that had come upon them was a light brown. Despite the walker, it had remained calm throughout the whole ordeal. The young woman on top of the horse had her brown hair chopped into a pixie style. A floral blouse was buttoned halfway over a pink tank top paired with tattered jeans and work boots. In her hands, she held a wooden bat.

“Lori? Lori Grimes?” She called out, panicked. She slowed her horse to a stop in front of them.

Lori marched forward without question. “I’m Lori.” She declared. Worry and confusion filled her face as she gaped at the unknown savior.

The girl looked down at her. “Rick sent me. You’ve got to come now.” Daryl looked at her hands. They had drying blood on them.

“What?”

“There’s been an accident. Carl’s been shot.”

Shock ran through everyone in the group. To think in just a few short hours their luck had turned from bad to worse.

Chapter Text

Stranger had set up Sophia in the kitchen with a few blankets and a pillow he’d gathered from upstairs. Sophia had yet to go up herself to the second story, something that Stranger had forbidden on the grounds of the stairs being rotted. The pillow was nice, and the blankets were warm. It reminded her of the night after the C.D.C. blew up.

After they had spent the night with full bellies, hot showers, and comfy cots, the next resulted in them having none of those things. Even worse, they had lost their friend Ms. Jacqui and were spending the night where a lot of people died. Mr. Grimes had spoken about how they had made friends with a group of men who were taking care of grandmas and grandpas in Atlanta. Much to everyone’s horror, it appeared that all of them had died while they were gone.

Sophia cried herself to sleep that night. Not only because of everything happening around her, but also because the old folk’s home reminded her of her grandparents. Her father’s dad had passed away before she could remember, but his momma had stayed in a place not too different from where they were sleeping at. Daddy never really talked about her. Mommy’s parents lived in a trailer together further away. She liked them whenever they visited, but Grandma would always push Mom for them to go back to their house, so maybe they didn’t like her as much.

Apparently, her face had become sad because Stranger asked her what was wrong. She told him about the tale of the night at the old folks home, describing the dead bodies and walls riddled with bullet holes. She found that Stranger was a really good listener, like her teacher was at school. He even shared her same expressions.

She continued to talk. It had been a long time since she was not afraid to speak. Daddy never liked it when she or Mom opened their mouths, and noise was the thing that always seemed to draw the monsters to her.

She talked about the C.D.C., where there was one doctor and a talking computer. She talked about Jacqui, who had given up and was blown up with the doctor. She told him about Jim and Amy and the campsite where so many of their group died. She described Liza and her annoying brother and bossy Carl. She told him fun stories she experienced with her mother, mostly when cleaning or cooking mishaps occured that made them laugh.

Stranger listened to each and every story attentively. Occasionally, he showed her a soft smile, or his eyes would glaze over in thought, but he always shook himself out of it to continue listening. When Sofia started the story about Mr. Daryl, she was beginning to yawn. Stranger glanced at the open window and exclaimed at the darkness outside. Sophia maneuvered herself into the little nest of blankets, thinking with disappointment that her time to speak was over, but Stranger urged her to continue.

So, the great story of Mr. Daryl’s tale of a chupacabra went to his great feats of getting them food, then to his fearless attitude towards walkers that nobody else in their group seemed to have. For some reason, Sophia could not stop talking about this man she had barely even spoken to. A sharp blush came to her at the realization of why she was so interested, and she quickly threw the notion out of her mind. Although, it seemed to be a bit too late, as Stranger’s brows rose while he talked about how the man walked everywhere in sleeveless shirts.

“Sometimes, he even rips the sleeves off of new shirts.” She whispered in the dark.

Stranger laid down next to her. “Sounds like they make him uncomfortable.”

“I think they do, too. He’s got, like, really muscly arms.” Sophia held up her hands to show how large the man’s biceps were.

“Oh?” Stranger began to giggle, leading her to giggle. Slowly, the two began to fall asleep. Soft talking and quiet giggles turned into small sores. For Sophia it felt like only a moment- just a few seconds- during which her dreams enveloped her mind.

Then a hand reached over and grabbed her arm, shaking her harshly. She awoke with a start, jerking forward and up towards Stranger. “Bambina.” He said. Although his voice was a whisper, his tone was frightened. Instinctively, she too started to become scared.

“Stranger?” She asked. “What’s going on?” Stranger shushed her sharply, letting the dark silence ring out. She wished she had a clock to see when the sun was coming. She wanted the dark to disappear. Then her worst fear. Voices in the dark. Voices that were getting louder. Closer to them.

With a sharp pull, Stranger tucked the girl against him and began to pull her up. The blankets and rabbit clutched in her arms were dragged with them without care. Stranger grasped for something in the dark, hitting his mark and stopping. The small click made both of them jump, but Stranger continued on with his action. It was a doorknob. He opened the door, wincing at the shrieking of the door hinges, and tucked her underneath the shelves. He had put Sophia in the pantry.

“Do you have your bunny?” He asked her, still whispering. She nodded, holding on tightly to her gift. “Good. Now, you stay in here and be quiet. No matter what happens, do not come out. Understand, Bambina?” Again, she nodded.

Huffing, Stranger closed the door, encasing her in the pantry. Frantically, she shoved herself into the corner, blanket and toy clenched tightly in her fists. This surprisingly isn’t the first time the girl had been forced into a situation like this. Her daddy had always been mean, but sometimes… sometimes he took too much of his adult drinks, and he’d be worse. Paired with a bad day, the man would destroy the house in rage. Carol would have no choice but to hide her in the closet in those times.

She covered her mouth right as the front door slammed open. “Dude! What the hell?” Stranger yelled. A small shuffle occurred, then light. Sophia flinched when it passed under the door.

“Holy shit, man. You’re alive.” A gruff voice exclaimed.

“Yeah, and was sleeping until you barged in.” Stranger snapped. Sophia had yet to hear him speak in that tone. It was startling. The man chuckled and stepped further into the house. He then stopped very suddenly. “That’s far enough.” Stranger said.

“Chill man. Just wanted to see if there was anything you be willin’ to share.” The man said.

“I ain’t got shit.” Stranger replied.

“Well then, don’t mind if I rest my feet just a little.” A sharp bang against the door made Sophia flinch back. If she hadn’t been covering her mouth, she would’ve cried out. “See? Ain’t no thing. We’re all friends here.” A tense silence arose between the men. Then the man spoke again. “You got any friends around these parts?”

More silence. “I prefer to move along by myself.” Stranger answered.

The man chuckled again and stood up. “Well, ain’t that somethin’? I got plenty of friends behind me that’d love to make your acquaintance.” Stranger didn’t speak. “Come on. We got plenty of space in our gang.” Nothing. “We occasionally catch some pussy, too. Bet you're dying for a good screw after all this time.”

“It’s time for you to go.” Stranger told the man. There. He had broken his silence, furthering the tension in the house.

The man paused, shifting from one foot to another. “Ain’t into pussy, huh? Figures.”

“Seriously, man. You’ve outstayed your welcome here-!” With a loud bang, the man's footsteps pounded against the linoleum. Sophia felt herself start to shake, hearing Stranger yell out and struggle with the man. It was at this point that she realized that this was indeed a bad man. One that policemen and parents warned her about. She wanted to leap out of the pantry and push the man off of Stranger. She didn’t want to be in this place anymore.

She moved towards the doorknob and stopped. Her daddy was strong. He had to be strong with how he used to pull her mom and her around all the time. To make them feel small and weak. This man was a lot like Daddy.

“Alrighty then.” The man spoke using a tone that made Sophia feel gross inside. Stranger panted on the other side of the door. “Now, I think it’s time that you and I get something straight.” There was the rustling of something, and then Stranger cried out sharply. “You see what you made me do? I had hoped even with that Yankee accent, you’d grace me and my boys some Southern hospitality.”

“Run, Mary!” Stranger shouted. Sophia froze. That wasn’t her name. In fact, she didn’t think that she gave Stranger her name. Or her his. That was why his name was Stranger and hers Bambina. She didn’t move. She didn’t dare. Because she knew that if she hadn’t moved so early at the car pileup, then she’d still be with her mom.

“Well, well, well.” The man sneered. “Seems that we have another person afflicted with rudeness. Where would this Mary be at this very moment?” A beat. Then a sharp inhale. “Hmm?”

“W-We are h-holding up upstairs.” Stranger admitted. A lie. No, a trick? Sophia didn’t care. The man was scary, and Stranger sounded hurt.

“Ah, snuggled up in bed together, huh?” The man asked. Something was being dragged across the floor. Shadows passed by her door, seemingly unaware of her presence. “Let’s go see Mary, pretty boy.” A thump, then a squeak, and another thump. They were going upstairs.

Sophia sat back and listened. She knew how this went. They’d go upstairs, and eventually Mom would sneak down to get her. More thumps. Silence. Then a scream. Sophia panicked in her hiding spot. Shrill shrieking echoed through the empty house, down the stairs, and under her door.

Running footsteps. A loud crash. More footsteps. Sophia screamed as her door swung open. “It’s me!” Stranger shouted. “It’s me, Bambina.” He grabbed her hand, and she flew out of the closet. Upstairs the man still screamed. “We got to go. I’m so sorry.” Sophia didn’t reply to him, instead making sure her doll was still held tightly in her arm. Despite constant urging by Stranger, she looked back. Up the stairs of the house, the hallway was blocked by a large cabinet. Behind it, a large hand reached out in an attempt to push it out of the way. It disappeared along with a loud growl.

Her heart, which had been jumping like a jackrabbit since she woke up, had sunk to her stomach. One of those monsters had been upstairs the whole time?

“Go, Bambina, Go!” Stranger yelled. So Sophia ran.

Six miles away, Daryl busted out of the R.V. like his ass was on fire. He simply couldn’t take it anymore. After Lori ignored any rational protests and left on the horse with the unknown woman, the group returned to the R.V. with four fewer people than when they left the woods. For some reason, this made Dale look accusingly at Daryl for being at fault. As if he could tell any of these people what to do.

With their all but declared leaders gone, they struggled to pull themselves together. Dale worried about Andrea, who was shaken from her encounter and needed to be away from everyone. Daryl asked about the R.V. that was ready and about T-dog, who was not doing so hot. Glenn got Dale up to speed on their day while Carol attempted to get Andrea out of the bathroom, and Daryl tried to get T-Dog to drink water in his fevered state.

Once everyone finished their tasks, they gathered back together, and Dale suggested they leave for the farm that the girl had given them instructions on finding. Of course, Carol refused, stating her daughter was still trying to find her way back. Andrea agreed with Carol, as did Daryl.

He suggested that they wait until the morning, and then if Sophia hadn’t come back, they rig a big sign for her to wait with supplies. Luckily, they had enough from the scavenged cars to spare both food and water. He offered to wait on the road himself if anyone else wanted to stay the night. Dale agreed, wanting to stay with his home. Andrea wanted in as well, leaving only Glenn to go to the farm.

Unsurprisingly, Glenn was not thrilled to go and separate himself from the group, but Dale insisted, claiming T-Dog’s injury had caused him a serious blood infection. Daryl looked over at his brother’s bike that he’d been traveling on since the old folk’s home. The group all watched as he rummaged through his messenger bag and remove a large plastic bag.

He marched back to the group and threw a piece of cloth at Dale, who’d left it on his bike. “Why’d you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother’s stash.” He looked through each of the bottles and those that were not in the bottle. Mutters left his lips, naming the drugs his brother had stowed away for their camping trip. He tossed some good painkillers at Glenn for him to take on the road before finding what he was looking for. “Oxycycline.” He exclaimed, tossing the bottle to Dale. “Not the generic stuff neither. It’s first class. Merle got the clap on occasion.” He walked back to his bike, not noticing the looks of absolute disgust on everyone’s faces.

Glenn left with T-Dog in Carol’s Cherokee, leaving the four of them to make Sophia’s sign and put down some food. With nothing else to do as night came down on them, they went back to the R.V. for safety. Andrea took to fiddling with her deconstructed gun. Dale went up on the roof as a lookout. What could Daryl do? Try to sleep with the sound of Carol softly sobbing in the backroom and the metal clicking with Andrea reassembling her gun.

He was over it. He spent time in jail cells that provided better experiences than this. He stood up, asking Andrea for his clip back, and fled the tin can they called home for the last few days.

Unsurprisingly, Andrea decided to follow. He initially wanted to have a moment alone, but Andrea seemed to need something to do even more than he did. He told Dale what they were doing, and the man predictably challenged his idea. Another good thing about having Andrea, though, is that she can shut the man down quite easily.

The two of them walked away from the R.V. under the old man’s mother-henning. Finally, Daryl was given a moment of peace as they walked along the road, flashlights shining into the woods. He knew that it was going to be brief by the look on Andrea’s face, but he still looked at the little things.

“You really think we’re gonna find Sophia?” Andrea eventually asked him a few minutes into their walk.

He looked at her in disbelief. For some reason everyone seemed to give up on finding a little girl so quickly. He had been a part of many searches for people up north, and never has it been called off so quickly. He let out a disgusted scoff. “You got that look on your face, same as everybody else. The hell’s wrong with you people? We just started looking.”

Andrea raised her eyebrows in the light of his flashlight. “Well, do you?” She pressed.

“It ain’t the mountains of Tibet. It’s Georgia. She could be holed up in a farmhouse somewhere. Or in a tree. Hell, there are a bunch of places to hunker down in.” Andrea looked away from him in shame as he spoke. “People get lost and they survive. It happens all the time. If I had to list out the number of searches I’ve been a part of over the years, we’d certainly singin’ a different tune.” He thought about how many rangers and cops had knocked on his door to look for missing people in the mountains. One little girl versus his experience gives her a bigger chance than most.

“She’s only twelve.” She reasoned.

“Hell, I was younger than her when I got lost. Nine days in the woods eatin’ berries, wipin’ my ass with poison oak.”

“They found you?”

Daryl spat out a bug that flew into his mouth. “Ain’t nobody found me. Ol’ Man was off on a bender with some waitress. Merle’s sitting on his ass in his third stint in juvie. Nobody even knew I was gone. I made my way back, though. Yeah. Went straight into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich, no worse for wear. ‘Cept my ass itched something awful.” Andrea laughed at his final statement.

“I’m sorry.” She said while trying to suppress a chuckle. “I’m sorry; that’s a terrible story.” She laughed again, and this time he joined her. Privately, he wondered if this lady would ever laugh with him during a story like this. If the world hadn’t ended, how many people in this group would turn their noses up at him like so many had in the past? Probably all of them. Oh, well. Didn’t matter so much now.

“Only difference is Sophia’s got people looking for her. I know for a fact that it's an advantage.” He looked at her. She looked at him. He suddenly wished that this would be something they could always do. Share looks in between each other. Be close to one another. That would never happen, though. Not with someone like him and especially not with someone like her.

They decided to turn off into the woods. Daryl held up his crossbow, loaded and ready to fire. Andrea held the light to shine in front of him. After a few moments, they relaxed. Only for the sound of rustling to put them on alert again. Taking a glance at one another, they moved towards the noise, cautiously.

It was another campsite. The hunting tent sat in front of an unused fireplace, but was still set up next to a can of gas. The tree in front of it shook unnaturally. They moved under its branches and stared up in shock at what they saw. “The hell?” Daryl muttered as he took in the sight in front of him. Andrea covered her mouth with a gasp. Hanging down from one the stronger branches of the tree was a walker.

The walker, seeing and smelling food, reached out uselessly to the two living. Its face had holes from where birds pecked out pieces of the dying flesh, and the meat of its legs had been stripped to the bone with only some muscle and blood hanging down it. Daryl leaned closer to it to see a strip of paper nailed under the corpse. “Got bit. Fever hit. World gone to shit. Might as well quit.” He read out loud. He looked back up at the walker incredulously. “Dumbass didn’t know enough to shoot himself in the head. Hung ‘emself instead. Turned himself into a big swinging piece of bait. And a mess.”

Andrea gagged behind him. Both the smell and sight seemed to have turned her stomach. “You all right?” Daryl asked.

She coughed. “Trying not to puke.” She explained. He turned around to see her leaning heavily on her knees.

“Go ahead if you gotta.” He told her. He didn’t really give a shit if she did. Merle’s puked on or near him enough times that he was numb to it.

“No, I’m fine.” She denied, attempting to save face. “Let’s just, uh, talk about something else for a minute. How’d you learn to shoot?”

“Gotta eat.” He replied shortly, thinking about all the times his father took him hunting. “One thing these walkers and us have in common.” He kept his eyes on the walker. “I guess it’s closest he’s been to food since he turned. Look at him.” He gestured at how the walker reached out to them fervently. “Hangin’ up there like a big pinata.” He pointed to its legs. “The other geeks came and ate all the flesh off his legs. Lucky that he kept all his joints and stuff; otherwise, the tibia and fibula would fall right off at the knee there, see?”

Andrea puked. He guessed he should’ve seen that one coming. She only had a little bit in her stomach, so it wasn’t a lot. “I thought we were changing the subject.” She groaned.

“Call it payback for laughin’ about my itchy ass.” He retorted.

“At least there wasn’t a lot that came up.” She commented, looking at the small puddle in front of her.

He grunted and finally turned away from the walker. “Let’s head back.”

“Wait.” Andrea stopped him. “Aren’t you gonna…” She gestured up at the walker with her light.

Glancing up at the rope that held the corpse by the neck, he didn’t see any harm in leaving him there. “No. He ain’t hurting nobody. Ain’t gonna waste an arrow either. Made his choice. Opted out. Let ‘em hang.”

Andrea stared at the walker with horror in her eyes. She moved closer to the tree, and Daryl knew that she wasn’t seeing some random guy. He stepped closer to her. “You wanna live now or not?” He suddenly questioned her. She whipped her head around to gawp at him. Nobody really talked to her after she tried to kill herself back at the C.D.C.. The only reason she was standing there next to Daryl in the woods is because Dale dragged her away from the building by threatening to stay with her. “It’s just a question.” He told her, noting the fear in her face.

Instead of answering, she returned her gaze to the walker. It snarled at her. “An answer for an arrow.” She told him. “Fair?” He nodded. She blinked slowly and sighed. “I don’t know if I want to live or if I have to or if it’s just a habit. All I know is that when the world ended, I survived for Amy. Now…” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say to the man.

Daryl’s stare hardened. “Not much of an answer.” He retorted. Lifting his bow up high, he quickly shot the walker above the left brow. “Waste of an arrow.” He sneered. He understood her and her mindset. He also hated her for having it. He stomped away, back to the R.V., not caring if she followed. She did.

The rest of the walk continued in silence right up until they reached the road, where Daryl paused. Andrea looked over at him in confusion as he stood in thought. Despite her actions that made him want to tear out his nails in frustration, Andrea proved to be quite resilient. He wanted to tell her.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” He asked her. “Somethin’ that you can’t blab to anyone else about?”

Andrea shrugged, giving him a pitying smile. “Sure, who’d wanna listen to what a crazy lady have to say anyway?”

He could have chuckled at her attempt at a joke, but his mind was too busy in thought. “There’s a reason why I’m so sure she’s alive.”

Andrea started to become nervous. “You mean besides berries and poison oak toilet paper?” She tried to laugh.

He put his eyes down on his feet. It was easier for him to talk like this. “When me and Rick went to track Sophia yesterday. We found somethin’ weird. Her tracks were met by somebody else’s. Someone wearin’ a size eight in a male’s boot.”

Andrea inhaled sharply, her face contorting into horror. “Like she was being chased?”

Daryl looked at her. “Like she was caught. Point is, we’re not searchin’ these woods because she’s lost. We’re searchin’ these woods because someone has her.”

Chapter Text

Sophia hadn’t come back that night. Daryl was forced to watch as Carol’s hope and worry turn into despair and grief. He wasn’t sure there was anything worse than watching a mother suffer while you’re just some helpless asshole.

No one got much sleep on the road. By first light, they were all ready to head to the farm after one last desperate search around the road. Nothing. Beaten, they went to the farm using the horse girl’s instructions. Entering through the gate felt like going into another world. Whoever owned land like this was either a rich asshole or a farmer who inherited land and worked his ass off every day to keep it.

Although most of the land seemed to be set aside for livestock, the long dirt road led up to a white, three-story home with a barn, stable, chicken coop, and shed all spaced out nicely to fill the area. Daryl would’ve been jealous if he’d known what to do with even an acre of this land. He led the R.V. and Lori’s car to the house but parked his bike a little ways away. No need for anyone to get upset about his brother’s white supremacy bullcrap he stuck onto the bike.

The Grimes couple reassured everyone that Carl was going to pull through, making a sigh of relief leave everyone not in the know. Lori introduced Hershel as the leader, the tall old man with hair white as snow, staring at them in such a way that made Daryl internally tense. Apparently, when one of their people shot the boy, Hershal used his veterinary skills to fix him up as best he could. Shane also helped, going with the man Otis to the local high school to gather equipment needed for Carl’s surgery.

Unfortunately, instead of going into an immediate search for their lost little girl, everyone was expected to attend Otis’s funeral. The man had been the one to accidentally shoot a twelve-year-old, but once it had come out that the bullet had been intended to shoot a deer and had actually gone through the animal and hit the kid, most of the group wanted to show his family some support. Despite Carl’s injury being an unlucky accident, Otis still felt bad enough to join Shane in their search for surgery equipment at the school and died as a result.

Daryl didn’t give two hoots about this guy. He wasn’t comfortable standing in front of the empty grave they had made for the man; he didn’t like feeling like a spectator towards this family's grief, and he especially hated the little sobs Otis’s wife, Patricia, let out every so often with the young farm girls. What’s worse was Shane’s speech on how Otis died. Now, Daryl isn’t a cop, but if he was, he'd throw Shane into questioning faster than you can say “murderer.”

First of all, the way he acted when Patricia begged him to speak on what went down was all kinds of nervous. The dramatic story he gave them put Otis in both an honorable and sacrificial light that ended with a tragedy. Although it seemed to have worked to put the matter to rest, Daryl could poke more holes in the story than there were in Swiss cheese.

He watched the man closely, eyeing the nervous shifting of his feet and the tone of his voice. He glanced away as the man finished the story, coincidentally making eye contact with, of all people, Lori. What passed by them, he swore he’ll never say out loud. But she and he knew the same thing.

The farmers finished up their funeral, and Rick spoke up about their search for Sofia. The horse girl, who introduced herself as Maggie Greene, went inside to grab a map of the area. Daryl went back to his bike to fetch his crossbow. If he just happened to pass by the truck that once belonged to the dead man, he’d tell anyone it was just happenstance. So was the convenient, casual look inside the truck. Sitting in the passenger seat was a rifle. Nothing special about it, being rural Georgia. But he did happen to take a second look at the name carved into the side of it. How interesting it was for a man to face a horde of walkers without his gun.

He went back to the group surrounding the Cherokee. “How long has this girl been lost?” Hershel Greene asked on the other side of the jeep.

“This’ll be day three.” Rick answered him. The man was clearly exhausted. He had been up all night tending to his hurt child, giving more than the recommended amount of blood so Carl could live. Daryl felt slightly guilty about that, him being a universal donor and all, but decided he’ll be the one to step up for any more blood donations.

Maggie Greene came back from her house, a blue map held in her hands. “County survey map.” She declared, spreading it out on the jeep’s hood. “Shows terrain and elevations.”

“This is perfect.” Rick exclaimed. “We can finally get this thing organized. We’ll grid the whole area, start searching in teams.”

“Not you. Not today.” Hershel Greene ordered. “You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out.” He turned his attention to Shane. “And your ankle- push it now, you’ll be laid up a month, no good to anybody.”

Sufficiently cowed, both men silently agreed to the vet’s orders without taking any hits to their pride. “Guess it’s just me.” Daryl muttered. As always. He pointed to where he was going on the map. “I’m gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there.”

Shane declared that he’ll drive up the interstate to see if Sophia was there, and Rick agreed to the search tomorrow. Shane also suggested starting gun training for everyone. Hershel countered that with his preference of them not being armed at all. When Shane attempted to argue, Rick interrupted him, saying a polite agreement before surrendering his Colt Python. Daryl watched the two have their little stand off and quickly realized that Sophia had fallen outside of their priorities. Anger started to build up inside of him. These two were not only the leaders of this group, but used to be cops as well. Protect and serve his ass.

Shane, not looking too happy about it, set his Glock 19 next to Rick’s gun. Then he brought up the situation if they find Sophia bit. In response, Rick turned his eyes away from everybody else. “You do what has to be done.” He stated. No. Daryl wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not any day after that.

“What about her mother? What will you tell her?” Maggie Greene questioned, horror written on her face.

“The truth.” Andrea said. Maggie looked at her father, who shook his head with a face of great sadness. Shane grabbed his glock, claiming that he’d gather up the guns, but insisted that they keep Dale on lookout with his rifle. Hershel didn’t answer at first, only nodding when Rick added his two cents on the matter.

Not seeing any point in him being there any longer, Daryl followed Shane away from the group and went to go get his guns. Luckily, the old man didn’t say anything about knives or crossbows. He quickly handed over his nine millimeter and set up his tent to change. A clean shirt and pants were better than nothing, so with his plan in mind, he started his walk back to the creek.

“Daryl.” Rick called after him. He stopped, waiting for the man to walk closer. “You okay on your own?” He asked.

“Better on my own. I’ll be back before dark.” He yelled back. He started to walk again at a quicker pace.

“Hey.” Rick yelled, causing him to stop. “We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now.”

Daryl moved closer and attempted to posture towards the man. “You got a point? Or are we just chattin’?” He asked.

“My point is it lets you off the hook. You don’t owe us anythin’.”

Daryl's head whirled at what the other just said. To think that all these people thought about him like he was doing things out of obligation. Like he didn’t really care. When in truth it was actually the other way around. He turned away from Rick. “Ma’ other plans fell through.” He growled, stomping away from the house and into the woods. He was beginning to get tired of these people and their self-absorbed issues. A little girl was missing and all these people could think about was who they could have sex with. Sex wasn’t all that anyways.

On his own, he was much faster navigating the terrain. Within half an hour, he had nearly reached the creekbed. Then he saw it. A set of children’s shoe prints and a male’s eight boot prints. He rushed to follow the prints like a dog does when they catch a scent.

He tracked the two people to a small clearing when he stopped to observe the farmhouse. He waited patiently for any movement and spotted nothing but the old house. Being cautious, he loaded his bow before stalking up to the house. He didn’t check if the door was locked. He simply kicked it open, breaking it even further. He stepped in, noting how with every step, there was a creak against the wooden floor. He kept his crossbow up, ready to shoot at anything waiting to pop up around the darkened corners. For a house so large, it was strangely empty.

He couldn’t go upstairs. A large cabinet seemed to have broken as it blocked the path into the second story hallway. Not surprising with wood combined with Georgia humidity. Nothing of interest was to be found in the front rooms until he made it to the dining area. Sitting innocently on a broken shelf were two empty cans of sardines. He picked one of them up, its leftover juices sloshing around, and sniffed it. Still fresh.

He looked up, the can spilling sardine juice on the floor to make a disgusting puddle. A small, wooden door was left ajar. His bow went up. Slow steps. Very slow. He reached out one hand and then yanked the door open further, jumping back to put his hands on his bow. It was a pantry.

Relaxing, he searched it and saw that on the bottom portion was a pile of blankets. It was such a small place. Only a person the size of Sofia could fit in. He looked around the door. Near it was a black backpack. He walked over to it. Its contents consisted of five rolls of yarn in various colors, filled water bottles, a small package of a snack food, a travel sewing kit, a few hooked needles, and three sets of knitting needles. He looked closer at the blue pair of knitting needles. A closer look showed the small remains of blood and tiny chunks of flesh. The corpse in the tent had a hole the same size as the width of the needle.

Daryl sprang out of the house. “Sophia!” He screamed when he got outside, not caring one bit about what might hear him. He went around the house. “Sophia!” She was gone. He had been too late in catching up with the girl and the stranger. He slumped in defeat.

Preparing himself mentally to go back to the farm empty-handed and face Carol. He started his walk, only to stop. Two little flowers caught his eye. He stepped closer, crouching down to examine them. Cherokee roses.

Once upon a time, a little boy sat on his mother’s lap and gave her a Cherokee rose. The mother, bedbound due to losing a war with her own brain, told her son the story of Cherokee roses. Tears of the mothers belonging to native tribes over their lost babies grew these beautiful flowers. The son was fascinated by the story. But like all children, he moved on from it rather quickly and ran outside to play, the scent of his mother’s cigarette following after the child. That night the boy’s family became shattered. With a funeral, a bottle, and later wounds that became scars the child had irreversibly changed.

There would be no more brokenness, Daryl vowed to himself. No more funerals. Not for this little girl.

The little girl in question was exhausted. She never wanted to think about that farmhouse ever again. She and Stranger ran for the whole night in the woods, spooking at each and every sound as they went. She was so frightened of what the night had in store for them. The monsters usually came for them at night.

They were lucky to not have directly met either walker or more people, as in his panic, Stranger left his bag back at the farmhouse, and neither of them was eager to go back for it. By the time the first light hit, they were much further away from the farmhouse- nearly twelve miles to, be exact. Sophia would occasionally look around, trying to see if anything was familiar, and failed to recognize any familiar signs.

“Okay.” Stranger panted. “We actually really do need to stop soon, Bambina.” Sophia agreed. She had begun to notice the wet mark left on Stranger’s side slowly beginning to grow. At first she thought it was sweat. But she wasn’t sure that people sweat the way the stain was growing. She was starting to become worried for her new friend.

They stopped at a tree. Sophia was tired of looking at trees. Stranger leaned against one and warned her to keep an eye out. Sophia knew she could do that. She was the best player of eye spy. She followed his instructions while he slowly lifted his shirt. A gasp left her lips at what she saw. Stranger wasn’t sweaty at all. Well, he was a little bit. But the growing stain on his side wasn’t sweat; it was blood. The bad man had hurt Stranger.

“You’re bleeding!” She cried out and leaned over her friend’s side.

Stranger shushed her, looking side-to-side to see if anything noticed them. Nothing had. “It’s nothing, Bambina. Just a little cut. The guy's blade was little in every account.” Sophia didn’t know what that meant. “Do you still have that pocket knife?” He asked. She checked her back pocket and smiled as she found the tiny blade. “That a’ girl.” Stranger complemented with a smile.

He took the pocketknife from her and started to cut strips of fabric from his shirt. “Not that I wanted to wear a crop top in the middle of the apocalypse.” He muttered.

“You can use my shirt if you need to.” Sophia offered. She held up her oversized, blue t-shirt that she desperately wanted to wash.

Stranger chuckled. “No need. But you are very sweet to offer.” He pulled the strips of his shirt around his waist and tightly tied it together. Then, he packed the remaining bits of fabric against his wound. He hissed slightly with pain but gave her a reassuring smile. Standing up, he patted her head. “No need for you to get any more sunburnt.”

It was true. This is her third day in the woods. As a result, both her cheeks and nose have gained small sunburns on them. Her legs were itchy and scratched up by all of the thorny plants they have had to walk through in the past three days. What’s more, her feet ached from walking, her hair had begun to mat, and her skin had darkened in some places as a result of mud.

To make things worse, her stomach started to growl. A sense of embarrassment rose up. Here Stranger was bleeding, and all she could think about was food. What a bad friend she was.

Evidently, Stranger could hear the war cry from her tummy as well. He looked down at her with thought, frowning at her feeling of hunger. Sophia turned away from him in shame. How could she be so selfish at a time like this? “I’m sorry, Bambina.” Stranger spoke to her softly.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Quickly, she turned herself back to Stranger and leapt at him in desperation. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be hungry when there’s bigger things going on. I’m okay to move on. I promise.”

A pair of hands grabbed onto her shoulders, preventing her from continuing her rambling. Stranger was crouched down to her level, staring into her eyes with determination. “Never be sorry for feeling hungry. Hunger isn’t something you can control. It’s your body's way of telling you to slow down and refuel, understand?”

She did. But that didn’t make the situation any less frustrating. Angry tears pooled up in her eyes and slipped traitorously down her cheeks. No, she couldn’t cry. All this time she had been telling herself to stay strong. Because being strong was going to get her back to her mom. Crying wasn’t going to do shit.

When strong arms enveloped her, though, she found that she had no strength left. A sob unwillingly left her mouth, and then another, until she was full-on bawling in Stranger’s arms. He was gentle with her. Always has been. Rocking her in a back-and-forth motion and rubbing her back until her tears became sniffles.

“There we go now; the river always turns into a stream, doesn’t it?” Stranger hummed. Sophia moved out of the hug to give him a confused expression. He laughed and then sighed. “Man, it is hot out here. How do you people live like this?”

“It doesn’t get so hot in Boston?” Sophia asked.

“Mm, sometimes. But sometimes the weather can be quite nice. Here the humidity is ranked up so high that even the bugs are complaining!”

Sophia giggled, noticing that, yes, the bugs do like to sing especially loud in the summer. “Those are the cicadas.” She told him.

Stranger made a noise of acknowledgement. “You like bugs?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Hopefully not too much, ‘cause we might have to catch a cicada or two to munch on before that stomach eats itself.”

Horror and disgust turned Sophia’s stomach in an instant. “Yunk!” She exclaimed. “I’d rather eat another can of sardines.”

“I’m with you there.” Stranger chuckled. “You know, many people actually eat bugs on the regular. Apparently they hold a lot of nutrition.”

“Good for them. But I’d still prefer anything other than bugs.”

“Who knows, maybe one day we’ll all be enjoying a nice bug meal.”

“Stop it.” Sophia whined, plopping down onto the ground in defiance. “You’re doing this on purpose.” Stranger cackled at her misery. She looked down at the grass scrunched underneath her. She’d rather eat this grass than a bug. She looked at the tree beside her. She would rather chew on bark than a bug. She looked up at the tree. She would rather eat those hazelnuts- wait, hazelnut. “Stranger, look!” She yelled, pointing up the bush-like tree to where the nuts were.

Stranger didn’t answer her. Rather, he stared at her incredulously. “You know my name isn’t Stranger, right?”

She ignored him, running over to the plant and beginning to pick the tree clean of its nut. Slowly, Stranger joined her in her tree raid, laughing brightly at her. “Well then, lunch is on you, Bambina.”

She stopped gathering for a moment. “You know my name’s not Bambina, right?” She mocked his earlier question. His mouth fell open in shock at her first sassy remark, causing her to giggle.

“Well, what is your name?” He inquired.

“I’m not telling.” Sophia announced. She tried not to laugh as Stranger sputtered out a flimsy retort.

After a lunch of raw hazelnuts, the two of them restarted their walk together. “We're gonna have to make a big circle.” Stranger told her, making a half-circle gesture with his hand. “It might actually take us a day or two to get back to the highway.” Sophia agreed, although she couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“How do you know where everything is?” She asked him.

“Well, I’ve been wandering around this area since everything bad happened.” He admitted to her with a sheepish smile.

Surprise filled the girl’s face. “Really, why?”

She didn’t mean to upset her friend, but it seemed that her words caused a cloud to overcome Stranger’s face. She tried to backtrack, only for him to dismiss her apologies. “It’s fine. I’m actually from the car pileup you were talking about.”

She gaped at him in shock. “Which car was yours?” She asked.

“The little blue one.” Sophia hadn’t seen that one. There were a lot of cars in that pileup. “It actually belonged to my older sister when she was in high school.”

That information made her lean forward in anticipation. “You have a sister?”

Stranger nodded. “I have two. And five brothers.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. “Five?” She thought about her last few days with Carl. Although the kid was younger than her by a few months, he had tried to boss her around back at camp, saying that he was the man of the group now with his Uncle Shane. She looked down at him with a sarcastic look and told him he was the man of nothing. He could act high and mighty all he wants, but if he ever bossed her around, all he’d get is a kick to the shins.

He tried again at the C.D.C and his mom later asked how he got such a large bruise on his leg. She thought about having to deal with five Carls and internally shuddered. She’d have to do a lot of kicking.

“What?” Stranger question. Oops, she said that last part out loud.

“That stinks, being a sister to a bunch of stinky boys.” She told him instead.

“Hey! Girls stink too.” He argued.

“Do not!”

“Do too!” By the time they reached a new clearing, their verbal fight had become a poking war. Stranger won by cheating, tickling Sophia rather than poking her. It wasn’t fair. She’d bet that he was the little brother just by how annoying he could be. She couldn’t tell, though, because she was an only child.

They stopped and stared at the small house sitting abandoned in the middle of the woods. “Is this house going to be like the last one?” She asked. All her feelings of joy seemed to have slipped through her fingers as she thought about the contents of the night before.

“No.” Stranger said with a new determination in his voice. Leaning down, he picked up a large rock and chucked it at the dirty window. The stone smashed through the window with a shattering crash, leaving a decent-sized hole. They waited for any sound, any movement. When nothing came for them, the pocketknife in Stranger’s hand clicked open. “This time we’ll be more cautious, safer.” His gaze turned to her. “No more stupid mistakes.”

“No more.” She repeated, stepping to the wooden door of the new house. She hoped she could become someone that could be a protector. Someone Mr. Daryl could look at with admiration of her strength.

Chapter Text

Today was the day everyone decided to half-heartedly search for the girl. Rick gathered everyone together around the jeep like last time and started to assign people to grids. “If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might have gone further east than we’ve been so far.” Daryl glanced at the group, and no one seemed to give him any looks.

When he came back last night, no one seemed to have noticed him immediately, so he quickly shoved the bag in his tent, then approached Carol with the rose. The best thing he could find for the flower was an empty beer bottle, but the woman seemed enamored with him either way. He went to the R.V., where she had spent the day cleaning to take her mind off of everything, and told her the story of the Cherokee rose while she cried.

“I’m gonna find her, I swear it on my life.” He told her. She looked at him, a little bit of hope remaining in her eyes. He wished that there was more in her somewhere. He left her with the flower a little while later and told Rick about what he found. Because Shane was glaring at him right next to the ex-deputy, Daryl chose not to bring up either the backpack or its contents.

He tried to tell Rick later, only for Lori to drag him away, leaving the redneck standing awkwardly outside the house with occupants staring blankly at him. He turned and went back to the house without another word. He didn’t fit in a house like that.

The farmer’s kid approached them in the middle of planning, offering his assistance. Rick hesitated and asked if Hershel knew. The kid paused for a moment before lying. Daryl slowly rolled his eyes. Whatever, it wasn’t his ass on the line.

“What Daryl found at the farmhouse doesn’t really scream Sophia to me.” Shane interjected. “Anyone could have been holded up in that farmhouse.” Daryl wondered how the stick could have been shoved further up his ass. It seemed like it was pressed up quite tight before. Ignoring the man, he finished buttoning up his only sleeved shirt.

Andrea turned towards him. “Anybody includes Sofia, right?” She asked. She looked back at Daryl. They hadn’t yet spoken since the pileup. Neither of them knew what to say to each other.

“Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high.” He explained, holding his arm out to about Sophia’s height.

Andrea nodded, giving him a small smile. “It’s a good lead.” She reassured him.

“Maybe we’ll pick up her trail again.” Rick suggested.

“No maybe about it. I’m gonna borrow a horse.” Daryl told them. Sophia and the stranger had been far gone each time he managed to find a lead. He had to find a way to get ahead of them somehow. He pointed to a small section on the man. “Head up to this ridge right here, take a bird’s-eye view of the whole grid. If she’s up there, I’ll spot her.”

“Good idea.” T-Dog complimented. He also has yet to speak with Daryl since he gave him Merle's antibiotics. A sly smile appeared on the Black man’s face. “Maybe you’ll see your chupacabra up there too.”

Daryl felt a blush rise up to his neck. “Chupacabra?” Rick asked. Dale laughed and explained Daryl’s story he told the first night of camp about how he encountered a chupacabra as a teen while hunting. It was true; he’d swear it on his crossbow that the thing was so hideous that he pissed himself out of fear. Although, he didn’t tell that part of the story.

The farmer’s kid let out a laugh. Daryl’s eyes found him in a sharp glare. “What are you braying at, jackass?” He hissed.

“So, you believe in a blood-sucking dog?” The kid asked.

Daryl raised his brows mocking the kid. “You believe dead people walkin’ around?” Was his story really something so shocking? These people were ridiculous.

The kid shut his trap, cowed, and instead went for one of their guns. Rick stopped him and questioned his experience. “Well, if I’m going out, I want one.” He argued.

Daryl scoffed and swung his bow around his shoulder. “Yeah, and people in hell want Slurpees.” He started to walk off. “What horse do you recommend?” He yelled behind him.

The kid smiled. “Fourth one on the left.”
“I spy with my little eye, something green.” Sophia declared.

“Hmm, is it grass?” Stranger asked.

“Nope.”

“Leaves?”

“Nope. You got three guesses left.”

Stranger scratched his head in thought. “I remember this game being a lot less difficult back when I last played this.”

“Yeah, but that was like, what, forty years ago?”

A dramatic gasp left the man. “I’m so not that old. I don’t even look older than thirty, young lady.”

Neither was Mr. Daryl, but Sophia was almost certain he was around her mom’s age. “We’re almost past the thing.”

“Okay, rapid fire. Bush? Moss? Bug?”

Sophia smiled. “You’re right, it’s that grasshopper over there. You finally got one.”

Stranger pumped his fist in victory. “Yes!” He pointed at the little girl. “I’m coming for the win, Bambina!”

If she wasn’t ten points ahead, she might’ve been threatened. She smirked up at her friend in a challenge while he narrowed his eyes. Stranger was strangely competitive, probably from having a lot of siblings. Sophia wasn’t competitive, exactly; she just liked to win.

The two of them had spent the night in an attic. One tiny little window that Stranger broke open was the only thing that gave them light and what little air flow that they could get in a Georgia summer. Still, Sophia felt much safer in there, tucked up where someone wouldn’t normally go in. It reminded her of the treehouse.

“You think my mom is still waiting for me?” Sophia asked in the dark of night. It was a fair question. She had been running around in a monster-infested forest for over three days. Did Carol believe that her daughter was still alive?

Stranger leaned over, wrapping his arms tightly around her back. “If she moved, I can guarantee that she’s still looking. She’s a mom. And from what you told me, she’s a good mom. One time my mamma lost her older brother in a grocery store once and ended up punching two cops.”

Sophia laughed at the scene in her head. “Mr. Grimes and Mr. Shane used to be policemen.”

“Well, then she’s probably been knocking their heads left and right.” He replied, making her laugh once more. “You find your thoughts more interesting than me?” Stranger in the present asked.

Sophia shook her head, getting the memory away from her mind. “Well, my thoughts are a lot more entertaining than you are, so…”

Stranger gasped. “You wound me so, child!” He cried.

“Maybe if you weren’t so stupid.” Sophia muttered.

“Maybe if you weren’t so smelly.” Stranger retorted, pinching his nose. She scoffed. He was smellier. “Careful; walking around this area, there’s a pretty large gulch, and I don’t want you to fall.” He warned.

A sharp wave of nervousness hit Sophia. She could see herself leaning a little bit too far and losing her footing. How deep was the gulch? Was it shallow enough to turn her black and blue? Or would she go splat like in those cartoons that played in the mornings? She unconsciously moved closer to Stranger. If she fell, he would undoubtedly catch her.

In the distance, she heard a noise. “Wait, what’s that?” She asked.

“What?” Stranger and she paused for a moment, taking in their surroundings. They waited for a second before they heard it again.

“Sophia!” A voice screamed out in the distance.

Stranger’s face scrunched in confusion. “Who the heck is Sophia?”

Sophia felt herself practically vibrate with excitement. “I’m Sophia!” She shrieked before sprinting in the direction of the voice.

“Wait! Bambina!” Stranger called out after her.

She ignored him. How long had she waited for this moment? For someone in their group to find her. To bring her to her mom. Oh, man. She was going to be so mad at her. But maybe she’ll be too relieved to get angry. She couldn’t wait to see her. Her strong, yet thin arms. Her almondy scent. Her—

Her foot slipped in the mud, careening her forward. She screamed. Her vision of her going into the gulch became true as she practically flew over the ledge into the gulch. A hand flung out, gripping tightly on the back of her shirt. A yelp left her lips. She jerked back sharply, but her feet still failed to gain traction against the slippery granite wall. Slowly, Stranger pulled her back over the ledge, pulling her tightly against him once she made it.

“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” He scolded, arms tight around her shaky frame. “I almost lost you, little one.” He sobbed softly against her hair. It was at this moment she realized that she had dropped her rabbit when she fell. Another lost toy.

“‘Mm ‘orry.” She mumbled back. She hadn’t meant to upset the man. She just got a little too excited. He patted her on her back and let her go. She let him track her face, arms, and body for injuries, knowing that she was lucky to simply get a couple of scratches and a slightly stretched-out shirt from her stupid mistake.

“So, your name’s Sophia, huh?” Stranger asked. She nodded. His face showed her a small smile. “A good name.” He said. They stood back up, wiping mud off themselves as best they could. Stranger huffed at their appearances. “Now, whoever was yelling must’ve been close.” He looked around slowly with a squint to see past the thickness of the forest. Sophia followed his lead, looking around in the opposite direction.

The water must’ve been from the creek that she and Mr. Grimes crawled around four days ago. At least, that’s what Stranger had told her earlier; that's what it was when they passed by it. It was kinda cool looking to see it turn into a waterfall and become more of a river than anything. She looked next to the muddy water to look at the large rocks, and a gasp left her lips.

There, lying on the bank unconscious, was a man. Stranger turned to see what she saw and cursed. “Come on, let’s continue moving.” He urged her to move.

“No.” She argued. “I— I think that’s Mr. Daryl.” She whispered. It sure looked like the man. Dirty appearance, torn sleeve, and an item lying close to him that couldn’t be anything other than his crossbow. She hoped that it was the man.

“You sure.” Stranger stared down, trying to get a closer look at the unconscious form on the other side of the gulch.

Sophia nodded, despite the doubt she felt in her gut. “Absolutely.”

Stranger didn’t take his eyes off the body. Then he sighed. “Okay. Okay! We’ll go check him out.” He turned to her, putting one finger up in the air. “But! There are rules. When we reach him. You stay at least a good ten feet away. No arguing. If he’s turned, I take him down. Agreed?” She agreed. “Fine.” He worked his jaw in silence. Then straightened up and walked along the edge of the cliff. “Come on, I know a spot that’s less steep where we can cross. No! Go on my other side. I cannot deal with you falling down a cliff twice today.”

They walked in silence, stopping at a small area that looked like a landslide had evened it out. Stranger went first, crawling down feet first cautiously on his stomach. She followed, slipping a few times and scaring both of them. But every time she slipped, she managed to somehow catch herself. They hit the rocky ground and walked over to the river. Stranger was huffing nervously but stepped in all the same. Water slowly soaked into her shoes, wetting her socks, and drew up to her knees. Despite the gross feeling of her shoes, the water felt good on her skin after walking around in the humid heat all day.

Coming out of the water, Stranger ordered her to stay even though it was a lot farther than ten feet. He approached the man right as a walker stumbled out of the brush. “Shit!” He cursed, rushing away from the man to shift through the bank. Fear locked up Sophia’s joints, preventing her from moving. Much to her horror, Mr. Daryl had started to wake up. Apparently he wasn’t dead, after all.

His eyes were opened and glazed over but were not a stark white like a walker’s were. He shifted slightly, mumbling to himself without noticing the walker shambling up towards him with a growl. Leaning over the injured person, it started to gnaw on his boot of all things. “Leave him alone.” She screamed at it to no avail. Mr. Daryl blinked groggily, looking down at his foot in confusion. Another blink, and then he panicked. With a sharp kick to the monster’s face, the redneck scrambled backwards as it flew back.

Right as it starts to stand up once again. Stranger popped up and smashed its head with a rock. It hit the ground with a growl, and Stanger hit it again and again and again. Finally, the creature stopped moving. Sophia stared at it. The issue with these things is that they look so human. Its head had been smashed open by her friend, pieces of broken skull and brain splattering around its head. The water beneath it began to turn red.

“Sophia!” Stranger yelled. Two hands grasped onto her shoulders, and she screamed. She whipped around, her arms straining as the second walker snapped its jaws close to her face. Stranger ran to her aid, slipping slightly on the wet rocks. He pushed it away from her before it managed to sink its teeth in her. Her short stature prevented the creature from immediately getting her, but it also meant that she couldn’t stab at its head or have the strength to push it off.

She fell back into the water on her butt, scrambling backwards with another scream as Stranger struggled against the walker. Why did these things have to be so strong? “Move!” Daryl shouted behind them. Stranger did, giving the monster another strong push before stumbling away from it. It snarled. Then it fell dead, a bolt stuck in the middle of its forehead.

Daryl laid back down on the ground, his bow cradled in his arms. Stranger went back to Sophia, both of them panting. “You okay?” He asked. She nodded, not feeling like she wanted to talk for a little while.

Together they stumbled over to the redneck and sat down next to him in exhaustion. “Thanks.” Stranger told Daryl. “For the, uh, you know.”

Daryl blinked. Not saying anything for a moment. “So you’re the asshole draggin’ this girl around the backwoods of Georgia, huh?” He chuckled breathlessly.

“Guess I am.” Stranger laughed with him. He stood, holding his hand out to the redneck. “My name’s Vincent. Vincent Sala. But you can call me Vinnie.” He smiled.

Daryl reached out to grab his hand. “Daryl Dixon.” He grunted, using the man’s hand to pull himself up. A sharp groan left his lips, and his attention went to his side. He closed his eyes in pain and reached down to touch his wound.

Vinnie and Sophia looked down and saw, to their horror, a giant wound leaking blood out of Daryl’s side. “Holy shit! Sit back down, man.” Vinnie exclaimed. Urging the man to sit back down. “Sophia, sit down next to him.” He ordered as Daryl went to sit. The girl did as she was told and sat next to the redneck.

“Hi, Mr. Daryl.” She greeted him softly. A small blush appeared on her face, but neither man seemed to notice.

“Hey, girl.” Daryl grunted back. “Been lookin’ all over for ya. Your mama’s waitin’ for you to come back.” The confirmation of her mother coming back to her brought tears to the girl's eyes.

“I’ve really missed her.” She admitted.

Stranger ignored their conversation. Rather, he’d gone straight for Daryl’s buttons on his red shirt. “Get tha hell offa me.” The other man growled.

“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Vinnie mocked. “I’m all for those who prefer to free bleed. But I’m not dragging your big ass up the gulch when you pass out from blood loss.”

“Cn’ do it myself.” Daryl grumbled.

“I know. But it’ll hurt less and be dressed better if I do it myself.” Vinnie shucked off the man’s shirt with care and wrapped it around his waist like he did to himself days prior. He tightened the shirt around Daryl, the man only releasing a small groan to show his pain. “There.”

Daryl, now only in his dirty wife-beater, felt around the bind experimentally. “Son of a bitch was right.” He grumbled.

“I know I am.” Vinnie smirked, not realizing that Daryl meant someone completely different. The man stood, uncertain. Sophia watched as the man, who previously seemed as if nothing would take him down, swayed on his two feet with uncertainty.

Daryl ignored the two new people and silently walked over to the old fallen tree in the middle of the river. Quickly washing his knife in the river, he sliced open the squirrel on his belt and began to eat bits of it raw. Vinnie let out a little curious “Huh” as he and Sophia watched him with rapture.

Daryl looked over at the two of them. “Ain’t got a lot. You want some, girl?” He offered, holding up the bloody piece of squirrel meat.

“Um, no thank you, Mr. Daryl.” Sophia replied. The man shrugged and went back to his lunch.

Vinnie turned to Sophia. “Why don’t you get some drinks of water?” He suggested. Now that he had mentioned it, it had been a while since she had had a drink of water. Leaning down into the stream, she took gulps of the fresher side of the stream, Stranger, now known as Vinnie, following her movements carefully.

Finished with his meal, the man turned back to Vinnie, asking him where the two of them had come down. Vinnie told him and included the fact that even without having injuries like Daryl did, it was still going to be difficult to climb out of here without taking a large detail. Sophia internally bemoaned the fact that the journey back to her mom, although initially shorter than she once thought, was still having its difficulties.

Vinnie was one for the longer path. Daryl, on the other hand, was going up the ledge whether they liked it or not. Vinnie caved to the older man’s growls without much fuss.

Another surprise came to Sophia in the form of her lost doll. Earlier, Daryl had found the toy drowned in the middle of the creek and went to go fetch it. When he came back up, his horse had spooked and thrown him off right at the edge of the gulch. Sophia was glad she wasn’t the horse in that moment from the way Daryl was spitting out its species name. She asked for her doll back. Both men denied her, and Liza’s doll ended up tucked under Daryl’s belt for safekeeping.

“Bloods gonna attract walkers to us.” Daryl said right before they tried the climb.

“Yeah.” Vinnie agreed. “I was just gonna hope that they were too far away to meet us.”

The redneck scoffed. “Ain’t takin’ that route.” He pulled out his knife and took off his boot. “Was told a tale by one of our group. Walker’s ain’t gonna come after ya if ya smell like ‘em.” He took the laces off the booth and tied them in a loop.

Vinnie seemed to have gotten the message and looked a little horrified. Sophia, though, still hadn’t gotten it. Vinnie turned to look at their youngest. “Bambina, turn around and be lookout.” She did as he told her, wincing at the sound of flesh being cut. She suddenly remembered how Rick and Glenn got out of Atlanta. Nausea rose in her stomach as she glanced back to see what the men were doing. She looked away, praying that she wouldn’t throw up all the water that she just drank.

“Let’s go.” Daryl declared with his new necklace made from shoelaces and walker ears. They walked together to the area Sophia and Vinnie came from. Sophia was insisted to go first by the two men. She managed her way up quite quickly. She dared say it was a fun experience, like climbing up trees. Way more fun than crawling down. Vinnie came over the ledge quite easily as well, but at a far slower pace, which she obviously teased him for.

When it came to Daryl’s turn, it took him twice the amount of time Sophia climbed, only to be a fourth of the way there. Harsh pants left the man’s lips while he used a large stick to pull himself forward. He ended up chucking the stick and trying to use his arms. Although, now that he made it to a certain point, he seemed to be unable to go further. “Mr. Daryl?” Sophia asked.

The man looked up, too far to the side to be staring at the girl, and started to shuffle backwards. “Liked you better when you was missin’.” He huffed. Sophia reared back, hurt shining in her face. Vinnie scrutinized the comment and pursed his lips in thought. “Yeah, since when?” Daryl asked. He continued to babble on in a one-sided conversation, making their concern rise.

“Who is he talking to?” Sophia asked Vinnie.

Vinnie watched as the redneck hissed and hollered but still advanced up the incline. “He did get a pretty good knock upside the head. Maybe someone is encouraging him forward. Or, you know, taunting him from the looks of his rage.” He pondered. Sophia thought that it made sense. Mr. Daryl was probably seeing his brother. Merle Dixon always seemed to know what buttons to push.

Daryl made it to the top, slamming his hand down in between them. Vinnie grabbed hold of it and started to pull him completely over. Sophia grabbed Daryl’s other arm to help. This was a task in itself, as the man was quite heavy with his collective muscle mass. They collapsed in a heap, panting harshly in collective pain. “Yeah, you better run.” Daryl yelled into the woods. He stood up, eyes wild. “Alright.” He said to the two people on the ground after a moment. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Both Vinnie and Sophia groaned. “How far is it?” Vinnie asked.

“Couple o’ miles.” Again the two groaned.

Vinnie hadn’t envisioned that by rescuing a twelve-year-old girl, he’d end up walking with a hot mountain man. The, admittedly detailed, description of Daryl Dixon Sophia had given him was right on the money. Dirty and a little thin, but thick in terms of muscle mass. Vinnie let his eyes roam over the man’s body. As he had assumed, those big arms wouldn’t fit very comfortably in a restrictive shirt.

Daryl was a quiet companion most of the trip to their group’s camp. Although Vinnie could tell that his silence wasn’t personal and that he was just a quiet dude. He did hand over Sophia’s doll to the girl, and she gave him a small, mumbled thank you in return. She looked over at Vinnie, a sad frown on her face. “Sorry I lost your niece’s bunny.” She said.

He patted her on the head with a fond smile. This child, he swore to himself. “I can make another.” He reassured her.

Daryl turned his head to look at him. “That shit in the black bag, yours?” He asked. “With the yarn and hooks and shit?”

Vinnie looked at him in confusion. “Uh… maybe?”

The older man grunted. “Found it in a farmhouse a few miles east.” Both of his companions tensed without his notice. “Took it back with me during camp.”

“Oh, thank you.” Vinnie said after a moment. “Say, you wouldn’t have happened to lose another one of your group members a day or two ago, have you?”

This time it was Daryl’s turn to be confused. “No. Can’t say that we have. Why?”

Vinnie stared at him for a moment. Sophia had spoken fondly of the man beforehand, and he seemed to be quite kind, if a little awkward to the girl. Nothing at all felt like it had with the man. “I was attacked by a man about a day or two ago. He said that he was a part of a larger group. Sophia hadn’t seen him, so I was just wondering.”

Daryl stopped, the tension in his shoulders tightening. “Nah. He wasn’t with us.” Vinnie also looked him in the eyes and could tell he was saying the truth. He nodded silently, and the three continued limping on. Sophia didn’t seem to know what was going on. Adults always talked more with their eyes than actual words. She wished in that moment that she was older. Then she’d know what was being exchanged by the two men. “He dead?” Daryl asked.

Vinnie was pretty sure that if he wasn’t dead that night, then he definitely was now. “We left before.” He replied instead. Then a thought popped into his head. “Hey, when we reach your guys’ campsite, will I be allowed to stay, or will I need to go?”

Daryl glanced down at Sophia, who was staring at him, then back up to Vinnie. “You wanna stay?”

He did. It had been so long since he had an actual human interaction. When he bolted from his car and into the woods that night, it was like no one else on earth was left. He remembered that before seeing Sophia, he had started to believe in those later days, that everyone was dead, and he was alone. He nodded. “Then you stay.” Daryl agreed.

They made it to the edge of the woodlands. Daryl said to let him go first so that nobody would freak out. For some reason it seemed like he had a singular person on his mind. In his exhaustion, he started to drag his bow on the ground behind him. Sophia giggled. “He kinda looks like a walker.” She whispered to Vinnie.

Vinnie chuckled nervously. “Yeah, he does, doesn't he?” In the distance four figures charged away from the buildings and towards them. He grabbed onto Sophia's shoulder, preventing her from going any further. “Hey, uh, Daryl?” He called out to the redneck to no avail. “Maybe you should come back.” The people, all men, came to a stop in front of Daryl, weapons raised. He glared at them. “That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head. You gonna pull tha trigger or what?” Immediately the men settled, looking up and down the redneck in astonishment at his appearance.

In the distance, a gunshot went off. Then Daryl flew backwards, blood flying from his temple. He fell as Sophia screamed.

Chapter Text

Vinnie's strong hands wrapped around the girl’s mouth, and he yanked her back into the woods, tucking them both against a nearby tree. He shushed her, harshly, craning his head around cautiously to see if the next bullet was for him. He didn’t understand. Daryl had said these people were a part of his group, and yet they shot him? He spoke to the man in the middle with familiarity, almost jokingly. Perhaps they didn’t like the man and chose to kill him. Daryl did seem to have a limited sense of people skills.

The man with the gun was screaming; the mixture of rage and panic in his voice made both Vinnie and Sophia shake from behind the tree. The man on the ground gasped for air. Both parties relaxed slightly. “Oh, thank God!” The younger man exclaimed. “He’s still alive.”

No thanks to you clowns, Vinnie thought to himself, rather spiteful at the idea of his newest companion being injured for, like, the third time today. The third man stood over Daryl and leaned down to look at his wounds. He called out Daryl’s name a few times, the man coming into consciousness after the fourth time.

The three grabbed the redneck from his underarms and attempted to carefully pull him back to his feet. Even together, the task appeared difficult, as Daryl wasn’t light in the slightest, and the injured man aided in no help getting up. He instead tried to touch his head wound in confusion, which they didn’t let him. “I was kiddin’!” He spat at the gunman.

“That was not me.” The man in question argued. He and the third man wrapped Daryl’s arms over their shoulders and began to drag him back to the house.

“Wait.” Daryl slurred as he stumbled along. “Glenn. Ya’ gotta stay with im’.”

“What?” The young Asian dude asked. He stood next to the three men, a crowbar dangling awkwardly at his side.

“Just– stay!” He screamed. Glenn did, although he looked around the area in confusion.

“Who is he talking about? What the hell happened? Why is he wearing ears?” With each question, the guy seemed to get more and more freaked out.

Sofia, who had been struggling against Vinnie at the first sign of life from Daryl, managed to break free of Vinnie’s grip. Despite him hissing her name, she peeked out from behind the tree and spotted the man standing closest to them. “Glenn.” She called out, hesitantly.

Glenn froze. Slowly, he turned, his face showing nothing but pure shock. “Sofia?” He asked.

Sofia didn’t care for his surprise. She had bigger things to worry about. “Is Mr. Daryl okay?” Glenn stepped closer to her, acting as if the girl had turned into some feral animal. She sure looked like it, being covered in mud from their adventure at the stream. Vinnie watched in the shade as the unknown man got closer and closer to the girl.

Glenn made a mistake. He got too close to the girl, and he was too distracted to see Vinnie hiding in the tree shade. A dirty pale hand grabbed the Korean’s arm and yanked him into the woods. The shout that left his lips quickly cut off at the feeling of a sharp blade pressed against his throat. “One call to your friends, one wrong move, and you're dead.” Vinnie growled. He moved the blade from the base of Glenn’s neck to where he thought the jugular vein was. Easier to kill him if things go south.

Glenn really couldn’t handle this back-and-forth emotional state. His eyes were wide in shock at the stranger, who was just as dirty as Daryl and Sophia were and had a disturbing lack of nervous fear in his expression. Weirdly, the guy reminded him of Daryl, except the two looked nothing alike in terms of physical traits. He sputtered in response, praying to whatever higher being out there that his neck would remain intact. Beside the two men, Sophia was attempting to pull the stranger off of Glenn, claiming to both know and be friends with the Korean.

Her words did nothing to the unknown man, whose eyes slowly calculated the situation between Glenn and the others heading back to the farm. “Where’s her mother?” He questioned. His voice had no southern drawl. Rather, it was from somewhere up north.

“What?” Glenn asked for the hundredth time today.

The blade dug painfully deeper. “Where. Is. Sophia’s. Mother.” Vinnie spat, gaze cold against the shaking form. “Is she back at your camp?”

Glenn nodded as best he could. “Yeah. Yes! Yes, she is.”

“Bring her here.” Vinnie let go of him and pushed him to the ground. “Now.” Glenn scrambled backwards, bolting away from the stranger and back to the farm with his tail between his legs. By the time he managed to reach the group, Daryl, Shane, Rick, and Hershel had already gone inside, but the rest of the party still lingered outside.

Glenn leaned over on his knees, panting. He went to Carol first, and she stared at him, her daughter’s doll clutched to her chest. “Some guy– Sophia– at the tree line.” He wheezed. He took a few more breaths, preparing to tell the tale of how a psycho had her daughter, but it was too late. Carol had enough information and sprinted to the field. “Carol, wait!”

She didn’t listen. Her baby. Her sweet, little girl who got left in the woods was close. She remembered the day Sophia was born. The prayers and little hope she had during her pregnancy that this time wouldn’t end in disappointment like the others had spoiled some of the experience. Ed hadn’t wanted to be in the delivery room with her. The gender of their child caused disinterest in the man, something she felt grateful for in her heart. Sophia’s birth was long and traumatic, and most of it was blocked out in her brain. She had a bad birthing team.

But when they put her daughter in her arms, she had never loved something so much. Her scent, her tiny, pink face. Her baby. There are no words to describe her emotions in those quiet hospital moments. The complications of her personal life blended with her joy, trauma, and terror in such a way that it nearly drove her mad. Then anger came. White hot and almost blinding. Not at Sophia, no. But to everyone else.

She became a single mother in those moments. She’d never call Ed Sophia’s father in her heart. He was more of a monster that lived with them. A black figure in their joyful memories. She prayed for his death. Hated him so much that she feared God might punish her. But she’ll never forget that underneath her grief and guilt, there was a sense of freedom that came from driving that pickaxe through his dead corpse.

Seeing the two figures near the treeline brought back all her thoughts she had been having over the past few days. She was weak. What she should’ve done years ago was leave her bastard husband and take her daughter somewhere where she’d only known unconditional love. She should’ve done so. Not for her, but for Sophia. If she were stronger, her daughter never would’ve been lost, Daryl would have never nearly killed himself searching for her, and she could get off of her ass and do something besides washing clothes and cooking dinner.

She lost a shoe in the field. It didn't stop her. The sharp bits of dead grass and stones biting into her foot only pushed her harder. She could see her daughter now, dirty and scratched up, but alive. She was arguing, yelling at the stranger who saved her life, and not paying attention to her mother’s approach.

“Sophia.” Carol screamed. Sophia froze. Then, she turned and ran to her mom. The two met partway, crashing into each other’s arms and collapsing on the harsh Georgia soil. They both started to cry at that point.
“Mama.” Sophia sobbed. “Mama, I’m sorry.”

“My baby. Oh, my baby!” Carol cried out, kissing the girl's forehead with vigor. This was a sign. She needed to do better. Be stronger. Or else her daughter wasn’t going to make it out of this alive.

Vinnie watched the two with a strange expression on his face. Seeing Daryl, an awkward yet kind man, get shot for no apparent reason had filled him with rage at the mere memory of it. If these people were going to treat a valuable member of their group like this, then he’d be damned if he allowed little Sophia go. He still couldn’t tell if they were bad people or just stupid, but signs pointed to stupid but he never said that they couldn’t be both. No, the only people he’d allow near his friend is either Daryl or Sophia’s mother.

From the looks of their reunion, Vinnie knew that he made the right choice. He’d let them be for the time being, seeing as their tears had yet to stop. He needed to check on Daryl. The man rescues a child, and he gets a bullet in return. Someone had to be in his corner. He passed the two girls, only giving them a small comment about moving a little ways away from the woods. With their luck, that gunshot would attract all the dead down from the surrounding area. At least, he hoped that they could avoid doing so.

“Who the hell lost a shoe?” He muttered while crossing the field and spotting the random slipper. He ignored it and headed for the white farmhouse. Unfortunately, it meant Vinnie would have to pass by the Korean and others in his group.

Said people looked on in horror after the young man’s tale of being threatened. Vinnie appeared to some as a devil who kidnapped a little girl and nearly killed two of their own. His very presence made them nervous. Kind of funny considering Vinnie was about one hundred and fifty pounds skinny dude with a bright pink hair tie. He didn’t really care about their issues with him at the moment, a certain redneck’s well-being outweighing his personal reputation.

A large, Black man stepped forward. “Hey, man. Why don’t we just slow down a bit?” His arms were in front of him in a gesture of peace.

Vinnie had no time for peace. “Va’ a farti fottere.” He spat rather rudely and shoved past the man. He ignored the others shouting behind him and stepped up onto the porch. “Pardon me, ma’am.” He excused himself as he passed by a sad-looking blonde woman. He went past the nicely painted screen and followed the flow of loud voices up the wooden staircase.

“Any idea what happened to my horse?” A scratchy voice asked from one of the nearby rooms.

“Yeah, the one who almost killed me? If it’s smart, it left the country.” Daryl retorted. Vinnie quickly swung open the door and went inside. The redneck was shirtless, stitches sewn into his side, and a towel pressed to his bleeding head. The two men that had dragged Daryl outside gawped at his very presence. Closest to Vinnie, a clean-cut old man was washing his hands in a ceramic basin. For a moment, everyone stared at him. Then, he whistled. “Must’ve been some scare if the horse threw you down a cliff.” He teased the man on the bed.

Daryl grunted. “Snake.” He mumbled in reply. He shifted his back a little closer to the pillows.

“Ah.” Vinnie nodded and moved towards the man. Daryl flinched slightly and tensed when he leaned over to look at his head wound.

“We call that one Nelly. As in Nervous Nelly.” The old man snapped. “I could have told you she’d throw you if you’d bothered to ask.” The fact that Daryl had seemed to have gone unnoticed by the rest of the family. Jimmy’s looking pretty lucky right now from where Daryl lay. “It’s a wonder you people have survived this long. And now you haul another person onto my land.”

“It’s Vincent. Vinny to my friends.” Vinnie told the man with a tone of sarcasm in his voice. “It’s not like I was looking to come here anyways.”

“Hershel Greene.” The old man said.

“Rick Grimes.” The gunman greeted, reaching over to shake Vinnie’s hand. “That there’s Shane.” A glance over to the man in the chair, who nodded silently.

His shirt was unbuttoned, and he seemed to be in no hurry to do so. Head shaved so closely to his scalp, he was almost bald. Despite his physical strength, this was the guy who seemed to have it together the least. Vinnie would make sure to stay away from that guy the most. His nonna had once said to him, “Everybody likes to watch an explosion until they get too close.” He silently wondered how long the fuse was. Still, he nodded back.

“Grimes, eh?” Vinnie suddenly remembered. His lips twitched up in amusement. “The ‘ol Sheriff riding into Atlanta. Least that's what the little girl has been telling me.”

The air in the room tensed. “Sophia?” Rick asked. “She’s here?”

“She’s with her mother right now. Good thing Daryl found us, or we would’ve wandered in those woods for a long time trying to get back to a highway no one was at anymore.”

Daryl grunted. Rick shifted awkwardly. “Things got a little more complicated after the fact.”

Vinnie felt his eye twitch in annoyance. “Just cause a plan was made at the last second doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a shit one.” He thought about what would’ve happened if he and Sophia had actually made it back to the highway. How that child would react to no one being there. These people expected her to stay put on an empty interstate, where humans and walkers alike wander past often. No, these jerks had no intention of finding Sophia. They were probably just going to look around for another day or two until her mother lost all hope. That fact right there is what made a sense of disgust rise in his heart. Screw these people.

“If that’s it, then I would like to have some privacy.” Daryl interrupted. He shuffled himself into a more comfortable position on the bed. “Still need some stitches in ma’ head.”

The tension broke, and Vinne broke eye contact with Rick, his attention going to Daryl. Hershel also restarted tending to the injured man on his guest room bed. He dismissed the other two men, and Vinnie took Shane’s chair after they left. Hershel stayed, cleaning the injured man’s forehead with a clean rag.

“Are you okay with me staying for a moment? I didn’t really make the greatest impression on your group.” Vinnie spoke after a moment.

Daryl grunted. “Don’t care.” Vinnie hummed in response. A comfortable silence fell across the room. Hershel finished up quickly and gave both men quick instructions on care. Both of them nodded along halfheartedly, and Hershel went to leave.

He grabbed onto the door handle and stopped. He looked at Vinnie. “I hope that you’ll be able to keep this one out of any more trouble.”

Vinnie’s heart stuttered. “Uh… sure thing.” He agreed. The old man left, leaving two. “Uh. Guess you're stuck with me, then.” He paused. “Sorry.”

Daryl did his best to shrug. “Don’ care.” He said. Vinnie didn’t know why. They literally just met like three hours ago and he couldn’t see them getting along past those blood-soaked moments. “Why–” The redneck hesitated. “Why didn’t ya tell ‘em about your injury?”

Vinnie blinked. “My what?”

“Your side.”

Vinnie looked down at his dirt-caked clothing and noticed the small bulge under his coat. “Oh, I, uh, forgot that happened.” He stood up. “Um, I should –I should actually get that taken care of.” He went to the door. “So… to be continued?” He asked. Daryl grunted again, making him smile. Man of few words, huh?”

He stepped out, looking for any sign of life, but saw no one. He went to the stairwell in hopes someone would be on the first floor. To his luck, the sad blonde woman from before was coming up. They stared at each other. “Can I help you, dear?” She asked him softly.

Vinnie startled. “Yes. Um, I need to have a wound looked at.” He explained and lifted his jacket to show the tattered bits of shirt.

She looked at it carefully and nodded. “Come on, I need more light to really see it.” She started back down the stairs, and he followed her to the kitchen. The late afternoon natural light from the windows stretched past the sheer curtains. On the counter and stove were many pots and pans of cooking food. It made him think of his childhood home, where the same scene would be set in a tinier, dingier kitchen. The very scent of bread in the oven made his eyes water in nostalgia.

“You alright, hon?” The woman asked. In his distraction, she had grabbed a chair from the dining room and set it down next to him.

He scrubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Sorry. My mom used to practically live in the kitchen. So, you know.” He sat in the chair.

The woman hummed. “She teach you how to cook?” She fetched a metal bowl and filled it with water. Then she grabbed a rag and set it next to the bowl.

Vinnie scoffed. “More like she commanded us with an iron fist.” The woman laughed. They continued to chat about aimless things, like the dishes they loved to the ones they hated. A typical Southern meal versus an Italian-American one. In the meantime, the woman had cut the bindings around Vinnie’s waist, cleaned the wound with the skills of a trained nurse, stitched it, and then rebandaged it.

The door outside swung open, and in flew Sophia. The little girl rushed over to Vinnie and began to speak to him a mile a minute. Carol also came in, although much slower and calmer than her daughter. She greeted the woman who helped him, Patricia, she told him later, and began to profusely thank Vinnie for helping her daughter. He tried to wave off her compliments, but with Carol’s many hugs and kisses, it was quite hard not to be bashful.

The two women set out to restart cooking while he and Sophia continued to talk. Despite spending nearly four days together, the two still seemed to find topics to discuss. Eventually, Patricia and Carol kindly suggested showers, something Vinnie wholeheartedly agreed with. The things he’d be willing to do after nearly two months of no bathing were a longer list than he was willing to admit, but luckily, no one here would rather he didn’t.

Patricia was kind enough to lend him her late husband's clothes, for which he both thanked her and offered condolences to her. About thirty amazing minutes he was clean. His hair, which had been held down by oil, sweat, and dirt, was now fluffy and curled. Tan skin became a lighter shade, and his body felt a sort of general lightness to it that he hadn’t felt for some time. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked younger, less scary. He missed this part of him. The part he had to leave behind when the world ended.

He exited the bathroom and went back to the kitchen, gaining compliments and bashful giggles from the women inside, making him blush. Two new girls had joined them. Maggie exuded confidence from the way she walked to the way she held herself but maintained respect for her elders and kindness with those younger. Beth was her younger sister. Her long blonde hair complemented her dreamy expression and demeanor but did nothing to diminish her ability to stand up for herself.

He had determined in this short period of time that these women were not the problem at this camp. Sure, if an emergency occurred, he couldn’t see many of them being the first to react, but neither would most people. Patricia's skills in medical situations were undeniable. Maggie seemed to be the most aggressive and therefore the most trusted to go on the offense. Beth had a calming effect, and he could see her being the one to negotiate or talk someone down. Carol's skills in the kitchen were undeniable, and no one ever messed with the cook if they wanted to eat well. Any of these four women seemed to be overlooked by the others, and yet their abilities and skills could make them survive well beyond what most would think.

Cooking ended with a bang. They all shared laughter and quiet jokes that made the room an actual kitchen, not one they’d just cook in. The dining room was beautiful after setting it up. From the ancient table and chairs to the delicate handmade tablecloth. His mother would’ve loved this place.

Carol and Maggie left to grab the people from the camp, and Patricia and Beth went to get their people. That left Sophia and Vinnie to have first dibs on seating. “Okay.” Vinnie clapped his hands together. “Signs point well off to us being forced to the kids’ table, so let’s start from there.”

Sophia’s face screwed up in dismay. “Oh. I wanna be at the adult table.” She whined.

“What?” Vinnie shrieked. He waved the young girl off of her ridiculous statement. “Hang out with a bunch of angsty adults? How dare I be abandoned. In my time of social need. I wouldn’t survive this without you. I shan’t!” He leaned half his weight on her and earned himself a giggle. “Come on, it’s not that serious, Bambina. Just a table.” As the second youngest, his place at the family table always has been the kids table, and it always would be until the triplets have a few more kids. Although, he guessed now nothing in their chair placements would change much anymore.

He shook his head. Not much worth thinking about this now. He and the girl have something to eat that wasn’t in a can. Sophia picked two spots in the end, which he approved. Middle seats suck for just about everything.

Slowly, people began to trickle into the house. Some were covered in dirt and sweat. Some were clean. One dark-haired woman’s eyes were rimmed red from crying. Vinnie chose not to comment. Beth, the smart girl she was, sat on the other side of Vinnie. Another boy sat next to her, then Maggie and Glenn took the other seats. Vinnie made sure to look at Sophia, his eyes saying, “See!”. She stifled her laugh. Everyone else filled the other table, with one seat remaining empty. Daryl would’ve sat there if he were well. The lucky guy.

By the time dinner had started, everyone had gone quiet. Gone was the light atmosphere from the kitchen. Instead there’s this strange tension that Vinnie couldn’t describe. He decided to be quiet as well and finish quickly so he could go back to the redneck upstairs. Daryl is way better company.

Glenn turned around in his seat, a smile set onto his face. “Does anybody know how to play guitar?” He asked. Hershel and Patricia froze. “Dale found a cool one.” Nobody answered, and Glenn awkwardly laughed. “Somebody got to know how to play.”

Patricia licked her lips. “Otis did.” She said, grief breaking her voice at the end. Glenn stopped smiling. He obviously didn’t mean to cause the poor lady to get upset.

Hershel looked at her with a comforting look. “Yes, and he was very good.” There was a softness to him that Vinnie had yet to see. It was a little surprising. He kind of reminded him of his Nonno.

“Otis, huh?” He hummed softly. “How long did he know how to play?”

Patricia put her head down a little. “High school.”

“My older brother learned in high school. He did it to impress a girl.”

A small smile appeared on the woman’s face. “Otis did it to impress me.” She spoke softly. She turned around to look at him. “Did it work?” She asked.

Vinnie thought back to his sister-in-law. Long black curls, bright blue eyes, a loud smile, and hands rubbing her pregnant stomach. He blinked. “Eventually. Did it work on you?”

A fond smile appeared on her face. “Eventually.” She countered. Vinnie laughed. Looking in between them, Hershel stared in astonishment. This was the first time he saw his friend really smile since he told her the news of her husband’s death. For that he’ll thank God.

Glenn and Maggie shared a glance between them. Vinnie stared at them for a moment and then looked down. “Sorry, man.” He muttered. Glenn turned to look at him. “Shouldn’t have, uh– hurt you like that.”

Glenn swallowed and avoided his eyes. “It’s fine.” Was all he said. It so obviously wasn’t, but Vinnie had no ball in that court. It was a win and a loss for him, and with that he was done. Dinner ended rather quickly after that, and Vinnie couldn’t be more grateful as he, Carol, and Sophia went to the guest room where Daryl lay up.

The man startled at the sound of the door opening and self-consciously pulled the bedsheet up higher. “Hi, Mr. Daryl.” Sophia greeted, bouncing into the room. “Are you okay?”

“‘Bout as okay as I look, kid.” Daryl grumbled.

“Well, you look really bad.” She retorted. Vinnie choked on a laugh. Carol glared down at her daughter.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go check in on Carl? He and Lori might want some company.” The mother suggested. Sophia’s mouth scrunched up in opposition but moved to do as her mother said. Carol then turned her attention to Vinnie, who shrank back into his seat. He’ll behave as long as he’d never get ‘The Look’ from Carol again. Satisfied, the woman went back to doting on Daryl. Frankly, it was a hilarious scene of Carol mothering the awkward redneck hiding under the covers. It became even funnier to see Daryl react to Carol giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Watch out, I got stitches.” He mumbled in response. Vinnie nearly melted to the floor. Not that Carol could see it, but the man's neck reddens when he’s embarrassed. How adorable.

“I do want you both to know something.” Carol spoke. Both men turned to look at her. “Both of you did more for my little girl these past few days than her own daddy ever did in his whole life.” Daryl was the first to speak after a pause. Claiming that he did nothing that their leaders wouldn’t have. “Then why didn’t they?” She softly replied. “Why didn’t I?” She started to cry.

“Ma’am.” Vinnie spoke, dismayed at her tears.

“No. Let me finish. You both saved my baby, and that –that means more to me than anything in the world. You're both good men. So, thank you. Thank you so much.” Tears streaming down her face, Carol fled the room.

Vinnie and Daryl sat in silence, both of them pretending that the other didn’t exist. “I don’t think I’m all that good. Y’ know.” Vinnie spoke. “Don’t really feel as if I’m this great big hero.”

Daryl hugged his pillow tighter against his chest. “M’ neither.”

Their silence continued until Vinnie once again broke it. “Tell me a story.” He said.

“What?” Daryl asked.

Vinnie leaned forward, so his head lay on the bed. “Tell me a story about you, and I’ll do the same. Just to pass the time. I don’t really have anywhere else to sleep.

Daryl lay there for a moment thinking, and then he spoke. “Y’ ever hear about a chupacabra?”