Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 30 - The Closet

We left the abandoned house the next day. To say I was sad to see it go would have been a complete lie, as the thought of that roof caving in on everyone was something I had been worrying about..

We had spent the next week aimlessly following after Rick, in a repetitive cycle of searching for a place to stay, for fuel, and for more food. The suitcase of snacks we had scored didn't last nearly as long as we'd hoped, instead disappearing in a matter of days. It was the insatiable hunger that had plagued the group, and the taste of that delicious stash had really enflamed that hunger.

I had been practicing with my knives whenever I had free time, as it was a good way to take my mind from the bitterness that had somehow overwhelmed me. It was hard not to be bitter, which came as a surprise to me, since I was free to leave whenever I wanted, instead of being trapped in a shed like before. It was strange to think how that feeling of gratitude I held toward Rick had crumbled away now that I did have the option to leave, now that I could have a say... When it should have been stronger than ever.

Most of my nights were spent beside Daryl, in a silence which was probably more comfortable for him than it was for me. In fact, we had barely spoken since that night in the abandoned house. It would have been nice if things had continued like that, but with Daryl, conversations were a rarity that I just couldn't force out of him.

So there we'd sit, in silence, almost every night. Usually I'd get bored and go to sleep, but he'd always stay up and watch the fire, or the treeline, the road... Wherever we were, he'd be alert.

Maybe I sat with him because I enjoyed watching his intent face, his guarded posture. Maybe I saw with him because he let me. Or maybe I sat with him because I was lonely.

Either way, Daryl had some kind of silent presence that I felt I needed each night... For reasons unbeknownst to me still.

We had been making our way East, sticking close to the motorway, but not close enough as to attract a horde of roamers.

This had led us to a ghostly neighbourhood, one that had immediately caught Rick's eye as we passed a petrol station. It had become a routine, finding some abandoned place, searching for food... The kind of tiring survival that made living in a field feel like living in Buckingham Palace.

We ended up following the main road, which led us to a small suburban town. I didn't quite catch the name of it, as I was too busy watching the sizeable amount of roamers as we whooshed past them. Their reactions were so slow they'd often not recognise the truck at all.

After being on the road for the week spent in the woods, we hadn't encountered many roamers. Most of them were taken out by either Daryl or Rick, who were almost always the first inside the buildings we had found. By the time the rest of us were permitted inside, the unfortunate corpses would we strewn on the floor.

It was at the front door to an impressive-looking double story house, did we find somewhere to stop. It was the perfect place, with the only roamers in viewing distance too far to even notice us.

The entire group had settled into the usual silence, which had also been spreading around us like a plague. It seemed I wasn't the only one who was too exhausted to continue these constant runs, especially with winter approaching.

"You know the drill; silent and prepared," Rick whispered, as he stood with his back to the intricately carved wooden front door. He made such a big deal over every single run, which seemed pointless since almost every time the fuss would end up wasted on a measly two or three roamers. "It's a big house, so we'll need more people to search it. We split up, search it in pairs. Daryl with me, Maggie with T-Dog, Glenn with Amy."