Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 6 - Glenn Rhee

For the rest of the day I drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep. It was a strange feeling, waking up and not knowing where I was and what time it was.

Back at camp, I was always afraid of a herd of roamers attacking. But here, I was on the watch for both the dead and the living.

The shed was silent. It was a strange kind of quiet, and I would've given anything to hear a noise. Sometimes there would be a hushed conversation outside, but it was never loud enough for me to distinguish words. It reminded me of my experience in high school, and that feeling I used to get in my stomach when I knew people were talking about me.

It must've been getting pretty late, as the light that seeped in through the high windows was becoming less and less bright.

"Amy?"

My eyes instantly snapped open, and I let out a hushed gasp as I was pulled from my slumber. There was that man again, kneeling beside me, fisherman's hat and all.

"Sorry to wake you," Dale whispered. This man was polite, something that I thought didn't really matter these days. I sure did admire it.

I nodded, not trusting my voice enough to say anything this soon after waking up.

"You're looking a lot better," He observed. I sat up a little straighter, expecting more questioning. As I did, I noticed Glenn over his shoulder, sitting down on one of the old plush seats. "I was going to ask you a few more questions this morning, but you looked exhausted."

I nodded my head, before brushing a stray strand of dark brown hair from my face with my free hand.

"I'm just going to get to the point, because I don't have much time down here," He said slowly, before pulling his hat off of his head.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Glenn asked from behind Dale.

"None," I said truthfully. The idea of killing anything was something, anything, was something I wasn't yet comfortable with.

"None? Not a single walker?" Dale questioned, watching my face carefully, looking for any hint that I may have been lying.

"I-I never really had to," I admitted. My brother was always the one by my side, with a handgun at the ready, in case of a random roamer attack.

"How many people have you killed?" Dale continued, and after seeing my horrified expression he quickly added, "Just a precaution, that's all."

"I would never kill another human being. I-I wouldn't even know how to," My mouth was becoming dry at the thought of hurting anyone the way my brother was hurt, let alone killing them.

"That's true," Glenn paused, probably thinking back to last night. "She didn't even know how to use her rifle."

There was a pause as Dale scratched his beard.

His eyes were unfocused, as if he were in deep thought. I couldn't help but wonder what they were actually planning on doing to us. It's not like they were just going to deliver us back to our camp.

"I need to talk to Rick again." Dale shook his head in shame. "This is ... wrong."

A strange surge of hope washed through me, and I looked up to see the man getting up from beside me. If the group really were planning on killing us, this one man could be my last chance.

Glenn stayed behind, probably so he could keep guard through the night. I was sort of glad it was him. It could have been someone I didn't know, and I doubt I'd have been able to sleep around a complete stranger.