Chapter 57: First Time Again
It was the dead of the night, another clap of thunder rumbled over our heads, shaking the dirt under my feet as each foot hit the ground. Signalling that another spear of lighting was bound to strike at any moment in our vicinity. We were running again. Away from another herd that we stumbled into along the train tracks. Daryl and I were deep into the woods at this point, stumbling and slipping on damp leaves and moss that had absorbed the rainwater. Fortunately, the downpour had ceased and I now sprinted through leafy tree branches with only light spits from the clouds above.
I wiped the sweat and rain droplets from my eyes, my vision blurring as the mixture irritated my waterline. We reached a road, an abandoned car parked just off the shoulder of the pavement catching my attention. I flung open the driver's side door while Daryl stood watch. He kept his right ear pointed at the direction of the herd, listening for the moment when they were in too close of a range and we had to be on the move again. I twisted the keys in the ignition, waiting for the sound of the engine starting up to ease my worries. But there was nothing, just silence.
Daryl tapped his hand on the hood of the car, signalling that it was time to go. Reluctantly I tried the ignition one more time to see if I could get lucky. Still nothing. When I emerged from the car I could hear the walkers loud and clear. They were close. Daryl popped the truck of the small Volkswagen ushering for me to get in. The trees rustled in contempt as the herd barreled through them, now reaching the cusps of the forest line.
Not liking tight spaces, to begin with, my leg shook as I stepped into the Volkswagen's tiny compartment. Daryl squished himself in on the opposite side, pulling down the hood of the trunk and concealing us as best he could. With my legs pressed up against the back of the truck wall to the left and his on the right, he pulled out one of his bandanas and tied one side to the broken hood and the other to the bottom latch to keep it from popping open.
This was our home for the night. I could hear the velocity of the herd as they made their way onto the road, following our scent in the wind. Their unfaltering groans and gurgles seeped in through the crack of the trunk and echoed off the small space we confined ourselves in. Daryl propped his crossbow up on the hatch, peaking the spear of his arrow out through the crack. It would be useless if they found us inside here. He'd maybe be able to kill one or two of them. But nonetheless, it made us feel safer.
I watched as the moonlight illuminated their shadows through the crevice. One would often hit the car, causing the hood to bounce up and down on top of Daryl's crossbow. Each time I held my breath thinking the next would be the one to hit the tie loose. Between the noises coming from their thirst for flesh and the rippling of the thunderstorm above us, I could barely hear myself think.
I used to enjoy thunderstorms. The first sight of one forming created a warm ping in the pit of my stomach. Knowing that most people would be snuggled up in their houses, some watching movies, others reading a good book, or if the power went out you'd sit around with your family lighting candles and playing board games. An even better feeling was the calm after the storm. The sun peaking back out from behind the clouds, the plants well-watered and springing back upright, and the animals scurrying out from their hind places all at once. It was like nature was healing itself. Now all the thunderstorm brings is an ominous feeling. It felt as if we weren't supposed to be here. The storm brought the dead out to play and we were to be the animals in hiding.
Fortunately, it seemed as if all the rain carried our scent away from the walkers and masking it within the trunk. It was a large herd, leaving us trapped within here for quite a while. But even after we could hear that the majority of the stampede had passed and only a few trailed behind we decided that we'd be staying in here for the remainder of the night. It was never discussed, but both our unwillingness to move even a muscle unanimously decided it for us.
I was beginning to sweat. Daryl's hot breath bounced off of my skin as our faces were only distanced about a foot apart. Little airflow made its way through the crack and what did was still muggy and hot. It was already clear to me that we'd be getting no sleep tonight. Daryl's eye seemed to stay trained on the small opening, not daring to drop his guard. Whereas mine stayed dialled in on him. There was little else to look at, but I felt comforted.
I let my mind trail back to the early days when I first met him. Oh, how I hated him. I guess hate is a strong word to use, it was more like a deep dislike. I believe he felt the same way. Having the time to sit here and let my mind wander I chalked it up to lack of trust. Apart from myself, he is the one person I know that takes so long to find trust in people. You could say the same about Rick, but he wasn't always like that. If it weren't for Rick being so willing to help a stranger all those months ago I don't think I'd be here today. Let alone even made it out of Atlanta that day.
Daryl was so cold, yet something kept drawing me towards him no matter how much I hated it. Glenn was the first person I trusted with my life undoubtedly, but it didn't take long for me to realize that I felt the same way about Daryl. I tried to think back to the first moment I felt that way. Maybe it was when we were at the farm and he looked back at me from his bike to ask if I was good? Or maybe when he held on to me at the sight of my brother walking out from the barn full of walkers. But then I realized the moment was way before I even processed it at the time for myself. It was when he came back for me in the CDC. Grabbing my arm and dragging me along when even Glenn couldn't get me to move.
"Come on," Daryl whispered, pulling me out of my thoughts. He reached for his bandana, untying the knots. It was only now I realized the sun peeking through the crevice of the trunk.
The hood sprung loose and we pushed it open the rest of the way. I blocked my forehead with my arm as the light stung my eyes. I got out first. Even though it was a hot day, what little breeze drifted by was refreshing. The pavement had now been speared with bloodied tracks from the herd, we could see the direction they headed off in. We collected whatever we could find useful from the broken-down car. A tire rim that had fallen off, some rope that secured in a suitcase on the roof, shards of glass from the broken window. This was the point we were at. We went from living as luxurious as we could in the prison to mere scavengers in a matter of days.
Daryl looked back at me, swinging a garbage bag of supplies over his shoulder. His eyes carried a certain amount of pity when he stared at me. For what reason, I couldn't put my finger on it. Possibly because of the situation as a whole. Or because of my breakdown at the tracks yesterday morning. I just knew that I hated whatever thought he held behind those eyes.
"I need a drink," I said, cutting his look short.
"Let's go see if we can find a pond," he responded, heading off in the opposite direction of the walker trail.
"No, I need a real drink. I'm thinking tequila."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
kaboo
kaboo A lot of inner monologues here. Sorry for the delay in posting, but I am trying to really perfect the upcoming chapter's because I have been waiting so long to write them! I hope you enjoyed it, see you next time xx
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