When the dead rise to feast on the living, it becomes nearly impossible to keep yourself, and your family, safe from anything.
For Daryl Dixon, that statement couldn't have been more true. As the apocalypse turns the world into a cruel, cruel place...
I forcefully shushed Carl, who had suddenly appeared beside me. Warily, I moved behind him, sat my head on his shoulder, and pointed to what I had been looking at from behind a sharp corner. Carl let out a chuckle when he realized what I was pointing to, grinning.
"So, that's her? The Bailey girl?"
I nodded, letting my head rest on Carl's shoulder blissfully as I watched Bailey and Dad laughing with each other, having fun. Just being happy in general. Content, I let out a relaxed sigh.
"I mean... this is perfect. This is what we needed, what we deserved; nice people, good people... you know?"
He smiled softly, and nodded his head. "Yeah. You both deserve to be treated right by people; we all do, now that I think about it."
"Absolutely," I agreed, giving my head a firm nod.
"What're you two doing?"
I recognized the voice, and immediately pulled Rick beside me, pointing lowly to Dad and Bailey. "Oh," he said, cocking his head to the side.
"They're childhood friends, reunited here. But, it's painfully obvious they like each other; I mean, look at Dad, he's as red as a stop sign," I explained, giggling quietly to myself.
Rick chuckled, nodding his head. "He's doing good; for him, at least."
"Oh, yeah, definitely," I agreed. "Better than I thought he would."
Then, Bailey said something to Dad while pointing in the next room over. He nodded to her, and she began walking into the room. Dad smiled to himself, looking around at the people near him, and that's when he noticed the three of us staring at him.
He gave us a death glare, and we responded by raising all of our thumbs into the air at the same time, like a salute.
"Good job!" Rick whisper-yelled, laughing to himself.
"Go get 'em, Tiger!" Carl added.
"You're doing great, hon!" I concluded.
Dad looked like he was ready to personally slaughter each and every one of us. He wasn't amused, but I, on the other hand, was cackling like a witch. After a second, Dad held up his index finger to us, as if asking us to give him a second. He proceeded to jam his hand into his pocket, looking for something important. A look crossed his face when he found what he was looking for, and he proceeded to pull out of his pocket...
A middle finger.
And that's where I basically threw my head back so hard that I gave myself whiplash, and began laughing until my stomach burned.
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