Beyond Terminus (Book Two)

Chapter 34: What He Needs Most

Hope's POV

Daryl doesn't talk the whole way back from the woods. I hold his hand gently, pressing a kiss to the burn. He doesn't flinch or register any kind of emotion.

My heart aches for him. I just want him to be alright, to not feel the crushing agony he's obviously experiencing. Daryl Dixon does not purposely abuse himself like I just saw him do; not unless he's trying to feel something beyond the numbness.

We emerge from the trees, and Rick hands Daryl a paper. It reads "From A Friend" in neat writing. Daryl swings his crossbow off his shoulder and readies it. I look to the alluring amount of water sitting in the road, my entire body craving it.

"What else are we going to do?" Tara asks.

"Not this. We don't know who left it," Rick says, his gaze watching the horizon.

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it," Eugene mumbles, his gaze never leaving the precious liquids. "But I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend."

"What if it isn't? They put something in it?" Carol suggests.

Eugene lunges forwards and grabs a bottle.

"Eugene!" Rosita snaps.

"What are you doing, dude?" Tara asks.

"Quality assurance," he answers, bringing the bottle to his parched lips.

Abraham smacks it away before he can drink too much, staring at the phoney scientist. Water dribbles down Eugene's chin as we all stand in silence.

"We can't," Rick insists.

Thunder rumbles above us, and the heavens open in a blessed downpour of rain. Everyone starts to laugh and let out noises of joy, save for some. I tilt my head back, feeling the water rinsing some of the dirt and grime from my body. I run my fingers through my soaked hair, feeling it grow slightly cleaner too.

Daryl stares straight ahead, and I look to him, my smile falling. He looks down at me, and I place my hands on his arms gently. Some of the dirt washes off, and I run my hand down his muscled arm to his hand, where I grasp it. He doesn't move, and my heart aches even more.

"Grab whatever you can find to capture water," Rick commands, grabbing jugs. "Come on."

We set out our water bottles as the sky cracks and growls. At the same moment, we all realize this rain isn't going to be welcome forever. There's a mighty storm brewing.

"Let's keep moving!" Rick yells over the torrent.

I look up at Daryl, thinking of the barn. He nods and looks to Rick.

"There's a barn!" he yells.

"Where?" Rick asks.

Daryl takes my hand, and we head off through the brush. Everyone follows behind us.

When we reach the barn, a few of the men and Maggie go inside to sweep it. I shiver from the cold, making Daryl wrap his arms around me in an attempt at keeping me warm. Soon enough, we get the all clear signal and file inside.

We all spread out, setting up places to sleep. Rick gives me the room with a few quilts on the floor, and no one else objects. Guilt gnaws at the pit of my stomach. I don't want to keep being treated like I'm more important than everyone else. I hate it.

Even so, they start a fire and arrange the supplies we have nearby to let them dry. Night falls swiftly, and the storm still rages on outside.

I warm myself by the fire, wrapped in a quilt. Daryl tries to make the fire larger, but to no avail.