Choosing the Right Path

[Daryl Dixon]

It had been about half a day since the group had ventured over the Tennessee boarder. He would be lying if he said that his feet didn’t hurt. It had been over two days since they had lost their last car as transportation. Slowly each individual car in the caravan had been picked off one by one as they each lost gas, or they transferred gas into more ‘fuel efficient’ vehicles in their possession. Each time Rick, Maggie, and Ezekiel determined who would ride, and who would walk. Daryl was of course able bodied enough to go on foot the entire time, he didn’t mind. What he did mind however was leaving his precious bike behind. The emotional wound was still very much present, but he had decided to give what it had left of gas into another car to help the young and some of the weaker individuals stay off their feet. For the first 20 or so miles he tried to walk with the bike, hoping to find some source of gas eventually, but to his utter disappointment, a lot of the cars they passed ran dry. With great regret he left his precious possession behind. Rick had tried to put in comforting words, knowing too well that what may seem like a small sacrifice was a great deal to Daryl. Yet Daryl had pushed the manner aside, and offered to help pull the small wagon that held a couple smaller passengers of their pilgrimage.


They were traveling in line with the Interstate, having had done do when they first made their way north towards Virginia. It felt like a whole other lifetime had passed since. Their journey north looked a lot different than their now journey back south. Different scenery… different faces. His stomach turned at the thought. Perhaps the loss he thought he felt from losing his bike was a cover up for all those they lost in Alexandria when the Saviors took everything from them. His hand clenched tightly around the handle of the wagon as he kept his head down and kept moving. His legs and feet aching were only trying to be distractions from what really hurt, his heart.


Looking around him, he monitored the individuals. Some of them he was starting to get to know, some he hadn’t bothered to talk to, he thought they were avoiding him, and some, though they were few he knew very well. His eyes caught sight of a mile marker and then a sign declaring that they were near the off ramp towards Kingsport. He vaguely remembered where they were having seen a sign to Kingsport on their journey to Virginia. Looking around at the others, he knew they were almost at their limits. They needed to rest, and find supplies soon or else…well he didn’t want to really think about that now. Suddenly, as if his thoughts were heard, he noticed Rick stop off to the side with one of the women who had been from the Kingdom’s group. They conversed for a moment, and then Rick called them all to a halt. He stopped with the wagon and handed it over to another woman who had been nearby.


Stepping closer to Rick, he listened intently to what the man had to say.


Paul Rovia

[Paul Rovia]

“Why are the numbers going down?” One of the Kingdom children asked with a tug at Paul’s black, leather jacket. The child had been counting the mile markers since of the older children pointed them out six miles back. “I thought we were going somewhere.” He asked, face scrunched up with confusion. “Are we lost?”

Jesus’ lips curved at the corner and he shook his head.

“We are going somewhere and no, we’re not lost.” He ruffled the boys hair, noticing how sweaty and sticky his brown hair felt under his fingertips and how cool and pale the child’s skin was beneath it. He gripped the boys hand and tugged him along. At the beginning of their journey the children laughed and played. They’d been confined behind walls for so long that it felt like an adventure to finally be allowed outside. They’d joked and run around, the prospect of new discoveries urging their youthful energy on. He hadn’t had the heart to tell them that leaving their homes was nothing to celebrate--that they’d miss those walls once they were out on the road. With each mile they drove and with each arduous step they took on foot, the children cheers turned to groans and pleas for something to eat and drink. Finally they stopped asking altogether, too exhausted to manage a word.

“Stay with Megan,” Jesus said to the tiny child. He led the boy over to a young girl, barely more than twelve and, satisfied that he was taken care of, moved up to check on Maggie again. Her pregnancy made her steps slow, her movements uneven. He’d given her the last of his water and food, lying to her when he said that he was alright, that the peach he’d eaten a few hours ago was enough. She brushed his worries aside, a lazy smile rising to her lips as she leaned on Enid for support.

Before long they’d need to settle in somewhere for her to give birth. No place had fit their needs thus far. There were so many of them now. No house could hold them all and many were too afraid to go further than a few yards from the strongest in the group. He’d noticed a few of the women staying close to Daryl’s side, entirely certain that, if something happened, Daryl would protect them.

His gaze flicked Daryl’s way and he frowned. He saw through the stern grimace that seemed to always be on Daryl’s face these days. The man had lost half of his family in Virginia. There was no way he was alright after that. And to lose their homes in the end too? He couldn’t imagine the thoughts clouding his mind. Yet he pushed on--the tiny, squeaky wagon trailing behind him.

They’d all lost so much, yet he, like Daryl, tried not to let his feelings show.

Up ahead he watched Rick stop on the side of the road. Gesturing behind him for the others to stop, he moved toward Rick and stopped alongside Daryl.

“What’s wrong?” He peered around, his hands rising to tie back the loose strands of hair that had fallen into his face. “Did you see something?”

Rick grunted and gestured over shoulder. “That marker back there. There’s a state park close by. Joanna’s been there before. She says it may be a good place to stop--make camp.”

Paul searched Rick’s face. Specks of blood were still smeared on his face from the battle. His hair was plastered down by sweat and as he watched, the man shifted from foot to foot. He was holding up, but the elements were taking a toll.

“Is there a road close by that leads that way?” He asked. He peered up the grassy hill at the tree line and grimaced. The shadows were already getting shorter and soon it would be dark. They had another three hours give or take. If they didn’t find shelter at the park they’d have to camp in the wood. “Do you think we can make it there?” He knew the youngest in the group could but he wasn’t sure about the older people.

[Daryl Dixon]

Daryl stood with is arms crossed waiting for Rick's words. He heard someone come up and beside him. Before he could look to see who it was by glancing to his side, the individual spoke out. It was Jesus. Shaking his head in reply to the younger man's questions he quickly said, "Nah. Rick just stopped us."

Rick began to speak, and all survivors were listening to him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and normally he would have been more reflexive, yet he was tired, they all were. Turning to his opposite side, Maggie had come beside him and was now using him as a crutch. Reactively he shifted his weight to help her stand tall. If he knew her by now, he knew she didn't want to appear weak. Glancing down at her ever growing stomach, he knew her pregnancy was taking a toll on her. He barley remembered when Lori had been pregnant, but he knew enough that Maggie was nearing the later end of everything. He had heard talk from the random women who seemed to always be around him, things about her blood pressure and other sorts that seemed to be way above his head. But he knew things were going to get serious with her. 

Looking at her he gave her a smile, and she returned it as they both focused on Rick. 

He started to talk about how one of the survivors, Joanna, had been the same way prior, before the outbreak. He spoke about a state park, Daryl was wondering what he was getting at before Rick spelled out the fact that it might be a good spot to rest and camp for awhile. He would follow Rick in any direction, so if this was an idea he wanted to pursue he would be there by his side. As Rick finished his explanation, Jesus started asking questions, similar to those Daryl had in his own mind. He was almost glad his more outspoken companion was there, since he himself was more of the non verbal types. 

Before Rick could reply Daryl acted. "I can go ahead, check it out?" He was used to the task and knew that it would be better for himself, or a smaller party to look at the situation before them, before their whole....almost 20 something individuals decided to trek across unknown territory. He looked to Rick, waiting for his approval. Granted, Daryl wasn't so sure he would listen if the man told him not to go. 

Paul Rovia

[Paul Rovia]

”I’ll go with you.” Paul chimed in before Rick could respond. He knew the other man like the back of his hand. He’d step up and take one for the team. He’d follow Daryl deep into the forest and risk everything, when deep down they both knew he needed to rest more than any of them. He’d lost his daughter and had almost lost his son too. He hadn’t seen the man cry once since leaving Alexandria although his eyes were bloodshot.

He looked between the two men, standing a bit taller. “We can cover more ground if it’s just us. I’ll have his back,” he said reassuringly, gesturing toward Daryl. Rick knew he was capable and could handle himself. These people were his family now and although he would never be as close as they were to each other, he hoped he’d earned their trust at least.

“It’s best that you stay here with Maggie. Ezekiel too.” He peered over his shoulder at the Kingdom’s leader. The man was still distraught after their losses, especially after losing Carol.

Paul turned back to Daryl and crossed his arms over his chest. “If we leave now we can be back before dark.”

Joanna, a middle aged woman with dark, wiry black hair, stepped forward and began describing what they’d see once they entered the park. His tired mind tried to make sense of each detail, but all he heard was ‘river’ ‘cabins’ and ‘island.’

“Got it,” he said as he loaded bullets into the magazine of his gun. He slipped the safety on and holstered it at his waist. Assuring that his knife was holstered too, he turned to Daryl. He wasn’t sure if volunteering to go pissed Daryl off, but there was no way he was letting him go out there alone. He couldn’t read the man’s expression, but he knew Daryl was a loner--had been for as long as he’d known him--which wasn’t very long at all. The man preferred to be alone. That was too bad. He always had a knack for doing the opposite of what others wanted.

“If you’re not back in an hour we’ll come looking. Use these,” Rick said. He yanked his bag off his back and pulled out their walkies. “If you need help radio in. We’ll come lookin.”

Paul took one walkie and nodded his understanding. He tucked it into his pack. Inside he had water, spaghettios, a can opener, matches and a blanket. If they didn’t make it back tonight he didn’t want to freeze to death.

“We’ll hunker down in the woods just up there,” Rick added, pointing to wooded area in the distance. There were trees on all sides that would block some of the wind. It would also hide them from walkers.

Paul moved toward Daryl and watched the man finish packing his things. “Ready?” He asked, searching the side of the man’s face.

Daryl Dixon

[Daryl Dixon]

To his surprise...well then again he wasn't sure if he was surprised or not by Paul's intervention into the matter. Over the last, almost year, he had to admit the younger man was growing on him. He seemed to always have the well being of others on his mind rather than his own well being. Somewhat like Daryl himself, but different. 

His eyes flashed to Rick's direction after Paul volunteered himself. Daryl knew that look, Rick had planned on attending Daryl's scouting party himself. Yet by the looks of it, Rick was in no shape to do such a task. Yet he wasn't so sure if he would have interjected to Rick's offering, no statement of following along. Daryl was almost glad in that moment that Paul had stepped up to the plate. He could have managed by himself, he worked best alone, but he wasn't doubting Paul's skills. A slight smirk appeared on his face as he remembered their first encounter. 

Nodding to Paul's comment, Daryl said, "Good." He quickly looked around for Enid, who was always nearby Maggie, and made sure she took his place as being Maggie's support while Paul spoke again, Maggie squeezing his hand and smiling.Paul spoke directly to him then, mentioning the impeding darkness Daryl's eyes flashed up to find the position of the sun, they had a few more hours of daylight. He listened to the survivor, Joanna speak about the direction they should go int, picking up on different landmarks they would see and pass. One in particular was they would have to go over a bridge. Rick then mentioned they had an hour before the group would follow them. Daryl wished their leader had given them more time, but he couldn't ask for much from Rick, who worried when he wasn't involved with something. He started to prepare his own things, which wasn't much, as Rick handed Paul one of their long ranged walkies from his pack. 

Looking down the sight of his crossbow, he heard Rick speak about the plans for what the group would be doing then looked to Paul as he asked if he was ready. Giving a sure nod he shouldered his light pack, from not having so many possessions, and then said, "Yeah lets go." Turning to Rick he repeated, " One hour, we'll call." He then pushed through the group of survivors, hearing a few of their comments of good luck and to be careful, but he ignored them as he reached the side of the interstate they had been traveling on and looked around it. His dark eyes scanned the surroundings. There was a small hill, made possibly when they had carved out the ground when building the interstate. He saw some trees up ahead and then what seemed like a side road down the hill that went under the interstate. 

He waited for Paul to follow. 

Paul Rovia

[Paul Rovia]

Tucking the walkie into his pack, Jesus blew out a heavy sigh as he fell in line with Daryl and weaved through the crowd. He locked eyes with the boy from before and watch the child grimace with confusion and worry. He’d seen so many of their group leave during the slow journey south. If the boy thought they were leaving too he wouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t have time to comfort the child though. They needed every second they had to search for a place for them to hold up for the night.

Reaching the low bearing wall, Jesus watched Daryl move down to the road below. After a short pause, he followed. His tired leg muscles burned as he sidestepped down the incline. He stumbled just a bit, the slick bottom of his worn black boots sliding across the thick, icy grass. His footing was not as steady as he would have liked, but he managed to catch his balance before he fell. He peered at Daryl, dropping his gaze to avoid any questioning looks the man may have thrown his way. He wasn’t at his best, that was a given, but neither was Daryl.

Paul peered up the incline and watched as the group moved further down the road to the northbound side of the street. He could hear their raised voices and the shuffling of footsteps as they moved further south. Turning his attention back to Daryl he started up the side street. He saw a sign ahead that read ‘buttermilk’ He turned his nose up. He’d never liked the drink, but given his hunger he’d give anything for a full glass.

“Joanna said there was a river northwest of here. If we head that way we should find some trails.” Paul lifted the collar of his coat and stuffed his hands into his pockets of his jacket. He looked at his traveling companion, a ghost of a smile playing to his lips.

“Unless you have a better plan?” He said, looking ahead at the open fields and houses in the distance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few walkers staggering up Rocky Branch rd toward them. He’d let them follow them north and away from the group. He made a mental note to keep an eye on them while they walked.

[Daryl Dixon]

Daryl watched as Paul made his way down the small incline that he had just previously descended. The man almost slipped and fell, but somehow managed to regain his footing and make it all the way down. Yes, he gave his new traveling companion a look, Daryl wasn’t sure how it came across his face, but part of him felt slightly amused, a feeling that had been a distant memory to him ever since the incident with the Saviors. Paul avoided his gaze though, so he decided to not make any snickering comment and looked ahead to the road.


After walking for not even a minuet, they reached a crossroads of sorts and looking up at the sign, they were on Buttermilk and Rocky Branch Road. Sounds came to his keen ears and he looked back behind them as the group started to move, Rick leading them to safety as the pair tried to discover an even more safer place. However his ears also picked up a few snarls and he looked off down Rocky Branch at a few straggler walkers coming their way. There was a house facing the corner where they stood, but they didn’t have any time to investigate further, it was close to the interstate anyways, so most likely it had been looted already.


Hearing Paul’s words about what Joanna had said, he looked in the North Western direction, trees were blocking his view to view really far, but he thought it would be best to head through the open field in front of them, the openness not hiding any surprises…hopefully.


“Yeah let’s cut across here, head to those trees over there.” They would still head in the right direction, since they needed to not knowing where exactly it was they were headed to. But there wasn’t an issue with improvising a little.


He walked across the road, keeping the walkers in the corner of his eye. It would be good to lead them away from the larger group. But they would have to be disposed of if things got trickier, especially when they hit the trees, where visibility was lower. He reached the field and stepped through the low barbed wire fence, turning and holding the gap between the wires open for Paul to follow.


Paul Rovia

[Paul Rovia]

Paul nodded and followed at Daryl’s back. He adjusted his pack, the weight of the few items inside already making his shoulders hurt. “Thanks,” he murmured to Daryl. He stepped through the barbed wire fence, making sure not to catch his jacket on the rusted metal. He quickly bundled his arms close and fell in sync with Daryl’s steps.

If the other man was cold he wasn’t showing it. He personally never did well with cold weather. Before this all began he used to vacation in Florida to get away from the freezing rain and gusting winds that blew through the southern states. When he couldn’t get away he worked himself into a sweat to stay warm. That was one of the reasons he was good at martial arts. When everyone else was bundling up inside to keep warm he was in a gym working out. It kept his mind off his problems too--so many problems that seemed so stupid now.

It didn’t take very long for them to cross the field and reach the tree line and he did not hesitate as he stepped into their cover. He rested his hand on his blade now, his ears straining to hear any sound. The wind gust made it difficult to hear. As the air blew through the trees he heard a slight whistle and it was hard for him to distinguish between their steps and walkers.

The light was far darker now too and streaks of sunlight filtered in creating moving shadows as the branches above swayed side to side in the wind. There were no walkers as far as he could see.

“What do you think we’ll find?” He said as he trailed at Daryl’s back. He watched Daryl’s bow swinging side to side on his back as the man walked, his gaze trailing down to his companions booted feet before he turned and peered around them. “A country club most likely,” he added. “I saw a sign for a golf course a few miles back. Never really understood the hype when it came to golf. What’s the point of hitting a tiny ball around with a stick? I mean...really?”

He was babbling and he knew it. It didn’t stop him from trying to make conversation though. He wasn’t looking forward to walking the next three or so miles in silence. Talking kept his mind sharp--and he needed all of the sharpness he could muster, especially with his energy running low.

[Daryl Dixon]

Daryl could see is breath ahead of him as the walked, his boots crunching the short winter grass that was spread across the field they crossed. It didn’t take them long to reach the trees, and as he halted for a split second, Paul walked strait into them. He quickly followed him, but he was incredibly cautions. The lighting was dimmer, and the chill wind was now running through the trees, making it very hard to hear anything. The hunter in Daryl came to his surface and he started to hone in on his remaining senses.

As he observed their surroundings, he realized that there wasn’t any walkers in their immediate vicinity, and as he squinted deeper into the woods around them, he couldn’t spot any others. Perhaps it was harder for them to be within the area because of the fence they had previously gone through Maybe they were currently standing within a fenced property. His memory flashed back to the Greene family farm, but those memories carried many daemons, and he quickly suppressed them.

He eventually took the lead again and as they walked, as he was carefully looking about them, Paul started up conversation. He knew his companion well enough by that point to know there wasn’t really such a thing as ‘quiet Paul’. Daryl tried to not shut him up, because where he found solace and comfort in silence, Paul found it through conversation.

”Yeah I saw that.” He had tried to ignore the sign he had seen for the golf course somewhere in their surroundings. He was hoping they would manage to avoid it all together. There was a big black curtain in his mind that Daryl really tried to keep closed. Going to that Country Club would open it for sure. ”Joanna mentioned a trail head of some sorts. I think we should try to find that and not get distracted with other things. If we stay North West, we should find it.”

He continued forwards, hoping to deter conversation, and hoped from Paul of finding the Club. Yet he didn’t realize he was replying to his question about the point of golf until he was mid sentence. ”I don’t know, I don’t see the point in any sport. Never played any.”

[Paul Rovia]

”Yeah, I saw that.”

A simple statement. Nothing more. Paul spun around and watched Daryl’s retreating back again. There was something in his voice that bothered him but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Daryl’s next suggestion really took him aback. He wasn’t getting distracted, if anything he was suggesting they loot the country house if they came across one, which they probably would. Those places tended to be very large and placed dead and center on golf courses. He watched the other man in silence, nodding his head. Keeping to the trail made more sense for now. Once they got further in they could venture out more.

“I wasn’t too into sports myself. My mother thought I should put myself out there.” He scratched the side of his neck and shrugged. “Played rugby for a bit... before the jocks realized that I was…” His voice trailed off and he looked ahead. “Anyway, yeah, keeping to the trails sounds like a plan.”

He fell silent then, his thoughts on the others back on the interstate and the nagging pain stabbing at his stomach. Stopping to eat right then would slow them down so he ignored his stomach’s gurgling and kept walking.

The serenity of a walker-free forest ended when, up ahead, he spotted a group of them milling around what looked and smelled like a dead deer. He stopped mid stride and took cover behind a tree and gestured for Daryl to do the same as, one by one, a few more walkers approached to feast on the deer.

It didn’t make sense. Deer didn’t just die and walkers were far too slow to kill one. He wondered if Daryl was following his train of thought. They could go around without being seen, but now he was more worried about someone else being in the forest with them. A hunter with a gun. He hadn’t heard any shots though… It wasn’t making any sense.

“Lets go,” He whispered to Daryl.

He veered off further west keeping low in case one of the walkers turned. If someone alive was out there they needed to be more careful. He locked eyes with Daryl as he kept walking.

[Daryl Dixon]

He continued to walk, listening to Paul’s words about sports. He tried not to give him a funny look when he cut himself off. Perhaps Paul was trying to spare Daryl a long story? His mind was pulled from his thoughts when his nose picked up a foul odor coming from nearby. Natural reactions kicked in as he grabbed his bow from his back and prepared it while cautiously moving forwards. Whatever it was, it was rotting.

Paul seemed to notice it too as his own body language shifted. The pair advanced further and then almost suddenly, came upon a group of walkers, maybe eight, or nine, feeding viciously on a fallen deer. He reacted as Paul did, getting under cover quickly and silently to not distract the small group from their feast. His eyes watched the scene ahead of them, luckily none of the dead had taken notice to their appearance, being too distracted by their easy prey. That got him thinking about the situation further. Had the deer been lame? Old? Had died? The final option, was a little more concerning. They were not alone in this forest.

It wasn’t a surprise, in the previous years after the outbreak, he and the other survivors had come upon many other survivors. Some friendly, and some not so friendly. He heard Paul and nodded, keeping his eyes on the walkers as he back stepped and then followed his friend more west. They were still able to go in the right direction at least. By brief calculations, they needed to hasten. Rick had only given them an hour to find their destination, but this was now a little harder since they would have to proceed more cautiously just to avoid conflict if they were in fact not alone.

Ten minuets or so passed as they silently walked through the woods together, all conversation was off the table as they were both on higher guard. Perhaps the reason why they hadn’t ran into any walkers was because they had all be drawn to the deer? But that still didn’t mean that they wouldn’t run into any. Daryl’s ears picked up a faint sound of water. ”Hey, do you hear that?” They had to be close to the river Joanna had mentioned that was close to the trail they were supposed to follow

[Paul Rovia]

He couldn’t hear much of anything except his heart that was thudding in his chest so hard that he felt like he was going to pass out. He was dehydrated and he knew that as soon as he sipped a small bit of the water in his pack he’d chug it all down. Saving it for later made more sense. Straining to listen, he closed his eyes for a moment to focus and then he nodded. He looked at Daryl.

“Yeah, sounds like water.” They must be closer to the river than he thought. He couldn’t see it through the trees though, but if they kept walking they’d come upon it, he was sure.

Switching his knife to his left hand, he peered around at the endless nothing that was the forest around them. With most of the walkers now far behind them, the surrounding area was quiet--serene. If the rest of the countryside was like this they could very well stay here. Building walls would be a lot of work, but he’d help construct the walls around the Barrington house. He knew how to make it work. He only prayed that this time no one would come riding up and claim their hard work as their own.

They walked in silence for a few minutes longer and that’s when he saw it. The shimmering waters of the river...or was it a lake? He couldn’t tell. It looked deep though. Birds soared over it, dipping down to bathe their wings. As they approached the river bank he saw that it curved and turned more north. He didn’t see anything that remotely resembled an island unless the stretch of land across the water was water locked further out.

The view was beautiful. The water flowed like oil, slow and steady. If it wasn’t so cold he would have undressed and hopped in. His tired muscles could use a gentle, river induced massage. Maybe he could convince Daryl to give him one once they found a spot to rest. The very thought brought a coy smile to his lips.

Paul peered to their right and spotted a trail marker tucked beside one of the oak trees. “It’s there. Come on.” He said, leading the way this time. They were moving at a good pace but they needed to find a good place to stop. He navigated the short distance to the makeshift, overgrown trail and followed its path. As he walked he scanned the surrounding area.

“We should radio in once we reach some walls.” He said as they walked. “We can wait for everyone there.” He paused and then added “We need to warn them about those walkers back there. That deer didn’t just die on its own.”

He hoped whom ever shot it was alone. He could handle one person, but if there were a dozen of them they may have to change plans. “If we meet anyone we say we’re alone.” He said, thinking aloud. “There’s no need to mention the group.”

Keeping to the trail was harder than it looked so he used the sound of the water to guide them north. Just off to the right he could see a stretch of field and sand pits. It was the golf course. He remembered what Daryl said about distractions so he kept moving, his back stinging with each step until they reached a road and a large bridge. Broken down cars blocked most of it--some of them hanging dangerously over the edge. A few walkers were unceremoniously walking into cars over and over again. He found himself wondering how long they’d been stuck there.

“I’ll take the ones on the left.” He said, his energy returning now that he had to face the dead head on. He gripped his knife more tightly and started walking toward the bridge.

[Daryl Dixon]

They walked in the direction of the water he heard. Finally reaching its source, Daryl had to admit he was a little taken back by the view that came to them as they walked out from the tree line. The both stood there, taking the sights in. He wondered if Paul had ever seen things similar. He knew he had never had the good fortunes of vacations and sightseeing growing up. Paul’s words broke his stare and he turned his gaze to the trail head sign he mentioned.

Devil’s Backbone How fitting was that? "Alright let’s go. We don’t have much time left before we have to call Rick and the others.” This time he followed behind Paul, their guard was still up, however they moved a lot quicker down the trail. It was easier to navigate since they knew it would lead close to their destination and they didn’t have to worry about keeping the right direction as they did in the woods. Or at least he thought so.

He agreed with Paul’s words, once again the younger man had found his voice and was attempting to strike up more conversation. This time however, Daryl was listening intently. He agreed, Rick and the others needed to know about the potential threat. Some of the survivors had been slowly learning how to fight while on the road, however there were still many that could not defend themselves. Daryl felt that he was responsible for all their lives, it was his job to make sure things were safe.

”Yeah, will have to radio in soon or else Rick will come looking.” He wondered what the group was doing at that moment, wondering if they were all ok. He nodded sternly at Paul’s words about mention they were alone. It was the better idea. He hoped however they wouldn’t come across anyone, yet he knew better than to hope for anything.

They walked for a few more minutes before coming to a roadway, the trail spilling out and merging with it. Looking across the road he noticed a sign stating there was stables nearby, all the horses probably long since killed off or ran away. He turned his attention to the bridge to their left. It was a sight of its own. There were many cars littering it, and with the cars a few walkers roaming around, almost as if they were stuck on a loop.

He pulled out his hunting knife and nodded in confirmation to Paul’s words of action. Looking ahead at their situation, he counted no more than ten walkers roaming on the bridge, for the most pat they were well separated enough to maneuver enough to not be swarmed. If they worked together, they would be able to take them. Daryl followed Paul, moving off to the right side of the bridge. There were two walkers lingering together. After assessing the situation, he moved swiftly towards one of them with its back turned and he struck, plunging his knife into its skull. With more effort than he wanted to spend, he pulled his knife back out quickly to be prepared in small seconds he had before the other was upon him.

As he and Paul struck the closer walkers down, others further along the bridge started to take notice.


Paul Rovia

[Nadia Lachowski]

Nadia watched from the sidelines as the leaders of their group discussed their next move. Bundled tight in her gray hoodie, she leaned on the railing on the side of the road, her attention drifting to conversations she could actually hear. A few of the kids from her old community were using the railing as a sort of playground. She watched them tumble over and under it a few times before her attention shifted to a couple. They stood discussing their next move. The guy, Richard, thought they should take their chances on their own. His wife thought the suggestion was stupid. Between them they had no weapons and neither of them knew how to fight off the dead. Women were generally smarter than guys, Nadia thought rolling her eyes. Leaving didn't make much sense, especially out here in the middle of no where. She turned her attention back to Rick. He was handing Jesus a walkie now. They would scout ahead. 

Nadia watched Jesus and Daryl start to pack as she pushed up from the railing and weaved her way to the front of the group. Watching two of the strongest members of their traveling troop leave was a bit unsettling. They were slowly losing numbers and the ones that remained were weak in her opinion. The children, the older people, the pregnant lady. They were like walking targets. Someone had given her a knife when it all began. She’d taken down a few walkers with Ezekiel’s help. He’d done all of the work, but at least now she knew how it felt to kill one. It wasn’t as easy as it looked so she stayed close to the men just in case they encountered another.

“We’ll take shelter in the woods over there.” Rick said motioning for everyone to move. Turning to gather her small, navy blue knapsack, she slid it on her back and moved with the group toward the opposite side of the street.


“I’m freezing my ass off,” she murmured to herself. One of the older women heard her and frowned. “ Sorry,"  she said, ducking her head. "But I hope we don’t have to spend the entire night out here again. Last night was horrible.”

Tag: Anyone

[Paul Rovia]

The gritty, crunch of collapsing bone made his stomach lurch as he jabbed the blade of his knife into the base of one of the walkers skulls. He yanked the blade free, shoving the walker back before moving forward to take down another. His blade slid easily into the temple of the next, yet as he moved to pull it free the walker tumbled backward, taking him with it. He fell hard, his hands scraping roughly into the concrete as he fell atop the dead walker. A bit disoriented, he yanked the blade free and sat back just as two more walkers hurled toward him.

“Damn it. Daryl!” He yelled out as he made to push up from the ground. He gripped the shoulders of one of the walkers as it knelt and shoved it back as hard as he could into the other. The first tumbled to the ground, but the other continued forward. He pushed all of his body weight into it, slamming it against one of the vehicles. With his forearm pressed firmly against its neck, he stabbed the blade into its forehead, only realizing that he’d chosen one of the cars hanging over the edge when the car shifted under his weight. The screeching sound of metal on concrete echoed like sirens around them. The car wobbled and lurched forward, tilting further over the edge.

He yanked at his knife, freeing it from the walker’s skull as the car shook violently and careened over the edge. Stepping back he collapsed to his knees as he lost his balance on a dead walker that had been lodged beneath the car.

The fallen car hit the water hard, sending murky water gushing upward toward the bridge. Wasting no time, he turned to face the walker he’d left behind. He also checked to make sure Daryl was okay. He definitely wasn’t.

Daryl Dixon