Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 35 - Routine

The worst part about winter was that when it fades, the heat comes back and mixes with the water in the air to create an all-round uncomfortable feeling. No longer did we have to wear those chunky coats, but we still had to keep going, keep moving.

Everyone looked starving. It was hard to imagine keeping this cycle going any longer, the thought of eating another unfulfilling muesli bar or another shared packet of biscuits made me physically want to be sick. But still, we kept going, powering on even when we were usually too exhausted to even talk to each other anymore. It was just the way things went after all that time on the road, shivering from the cold but still going on.

In fact, since the farm fell, life had just been... Going on. There was nothing to go back to, nothing, besides each other, to really care about.

Another thing about winter fading, was the increasing amount of starving and thawed-out roamers that decided to pop out of nowhere every two minutes. We were constantly on our guard.

We had fallen into a routine, a simple routine that we had been doing for so long, I knew it backwards.

Firstly, either Daryl, who rode up ahead on his motorbike, or Rick, who usually sussed this stuff out, would point to a place that looked pretty sustainable. We'd park the cars close to the doors, so we could make a quick escape if need be. Usually the bigger men, Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl would go inside, but in the past two weeks or so, Carl had been going in with Rick, much to Lori's resentment.

I didn't like to think much of what they did inside that house, every day. We heard the silenced gunshots, the slamming of doors and the snarls of whatever was inside, but the thought of a small teenage boy going in there and killing things didn't exactly please me either.

After all, Carl had told me once that shooting was the "hardest part" of killing someone. Yet, he had grown a shell after his father began to distance himself, and... Well, he had certainly risen to the occasion.

Then, they'd open the door, where Glenn and Maggie would go inside and pull the bodies from wherever they lay. I didn't have the stomach for that job, and most of the time I couldn't even watch as they were dragged out, with awful bloody gunk hanging from their burst skulls.

So I usually sat with Lori, Carol, Hershel and Beth, waiting with empty bags and spare weapons. It was getting harder for Lori to move around, being heavily pregnant and quite vulnerable. I took it upon myself, however much I may not have liked the woman, to help her around.

Carol and Beth usually ran inside next, and Hershel would often toy between helping Maggie and Glenn, or staying with Lori and me. Being someone obviously practiced in the medical field, Hershel was often talking to Lori about how she was feeling, and how she was coping with all the running around we were doing.

We had been doing the same routine for a long time.

So long, in fact, I found myself watching in silence, predicting what would happen in my mind as the usual people walked inside.

I was in awe of them, specifically T-Dog and Daryl, who were almost constantly moving, hitting, killing, driving and guarding. I just hoped we'd get some food soon, in fear that we may, one day, just run out of things to eat.

It was a particularly hot day, and everyone was just hoping that we'd find at least some food to eat. My legs felt so heavy I thought I would crumple to my knees every time I took a step. My movements were sluggish and tiresome as I leant against the red SUV. Lori was sitting in the passenger seat behind my back, facing out so she could breathe in the relentlessly humid air.

We'd been running on empty for so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to eat a good, hearty meal.

I'd become used to sitting in silence, since that's all anyone could do these days. It was just too hard to continue conversation when my body felt as though it was going to combust one day from hunger.