FALLEN ANGEL ➵ DARYL DIXON [1] ✓

Chapter Sixty: Just A Flock Of Birds

Chapter 60

~ Some people don't believe in heros. They obviously haven't met them yet ~

***

"Fuck me!" Jane yells, banging her head against the steering wheel. "Never again! We barely escaped with our lives. And for what? Some cans of food and ammo?"

She has pulled the RV over at the side of the road, hysterical; loosing her mind. Kendra tries to calm her down, rubbing her shoulders and telling her to drink some water. It does calm her down. But not enough.

"Here," Sherry says, getting up from her seat beside Jane. "Let me drive. You just relax, Jane. Take the sofa, okay?"

Jane scoffs at her, but takes her offer in the end. She gets up, her forehead on fire. She forces herself down on the recliner, pulling the lever to bring an extra part of the sofa to life. She puts her feet up, taking off her boots. Kendra sits beside her.

"Thanks," she eventually says, Sherry nodding and putting the RV into gear and driving off down the road. "No more Kimberly, uh?"

"No more Kimberly," Sherry and Kendra state at the same time, causing them to both smile.

"I wonder how the men are coping without us ladies," Jane asks openly, Sherry replying with, "probably just fine."

"And Daryl?" Kendra asks, fiddling with her two thumbs and imaging if she ever lost one like Kai once did.

"You could strap that man to a rocket launcher and he'd still find a way to survive," Jane giggles, having a taste of seriousness twisted in.

Kendra smiles, her heart fluttering with the mentioning of the weird scenario her mother made up.

The apocalypse has changed her mother's views on Daryl drastically. She treats him like how she would of treated The Hay's: golden. Or any other wealthy man Kendra brought home. It's unnatural in a way. She expects her to roll her eyes everytime he speaks, or telling him that he's worthless and doesn't deserve Kendra just because he's a busted up redneck who couldn't afford a loaf of bread.

But now, she's the opposite. Because Daryl is rich in what she needs the most: strength and survival.

Kendra thinks to herself. If Merle hadn't stumbled upon their camp and Daryl and her was never met face to face, would they be still alive today? Would Markus be her Daryl? Everyone's Daryl?

Kendra sighs, running her fingers through her brown hair. She takes out a pen and a piece of paper from her notebook, recording what comes to her mind first:

A flock of birds
Chirp up.
Just a bird.
That is what you feel about love.
I always have been
Looking at the sky and I
Pray before morning.
Make it a regular service.
Sometimes they will arrive.
Sometimes they will not.
They worship
A flock of birds.
Chirp up.
It was hot,
But occur and follow them.
But I always
Look at the sky and
Pray before morning.
Put them out and be set free.
I arrived on time yet,
I knew that they are not coming.
They worship and
They follow
Just a flock of birds.