Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 4 - Introductions

The car ride was silent.

I laid my head against the window beside my seat, even though my face was itchy from the vibrations the car was making as it drove to wherever our destination was. It kept me awake, even though all I wanted to do was sleep.

The darkness from the blindfold was making it increasingly difficult to be weary, as I would often catch myself almost asleep.

I had to take in a deep breath and remember the ordeal I'd gone through that night, as I found myself fighting back tears every time I woke up and remembered where I was.

Nobody had said a word for the entire drive, the hum of the engine was the only sound I could hear, and the occasional yawn from beside me. My legs had gone cold, and numb, which was okay, as it was taking away the sharp sting of the grazes.

And soon, the road began to get bumpier, so bumpy in fact that I had to take my head from the window before I got permanent brain damage.

"You alright to open the gate, Hershel?" Rick's voice pierced the silence, it sounded so loud after the quietness of the drive. His voice was hoarse, probably from shouting so much that last night.

"Hmm?" The old man seemed confused, like he'd just been asleep. "Oh, yes."

The car slowed to a stop, engine still running as a car door opened.

"You can take the blindfold off her now, Glenn," Rick said tiredly.

My heart began to pound. Where had they taken me? Were we in some sort of giant camp, filled with people just like Rick? I waited as Glenn's fingers awkwardly pulled apart the knot behind my head. I could imagine the difficulty, with the seat of the car being in the way.

When the blindfold was lifted, I had to blink out the sunlight.

Was it morning already?

It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, and soon the shapes surrounding me became clearer and clearer. Rick was in the driver's seat, which was in front of me. I could see his short curly hair from where I was sitting. Glenn was beside me, his eyelids drooped in exhaustion. Beside him was Randall, sleeping silently.

That, or...

"He's not dead," Glenn said quietly. He seemed to notice my worried expression as I took in Randall's pale, clammy skin. "I've been checking every half-hour."

"Oh," I barely whispered. Hunger and dehydration had reduced my tongue to a sandpaper-like texture, making talking almost impossible. "Where are we?"

Glenn ignored my question, for obvious reasons, looking back.

There was a silence, as I sunk back in my seat and watched the older man outside the car fiddle with the lock on the gate. It was a wooden gate, like one you'd see at a farm. Beside the wooden fence was a rusty old mailbox, displaying the name "Greene".

I was disrupted from my thoughts by a drowsy Glenn.

"So, what's your name?"

I didn't know whether or not to answer that, as my brother's killer was most likely listening. But, Glenn seemed like the friendliest of the group and my thoughts weren't flowing correctly from lack of energy.

"Amy. My name is Amy," I murmured, hoping that the man in the front seat wasn't listening. I didn't ever want to hear my name spoken from his mouth in my lifetime. "And that is Randall."

The old man at the gate began to make his way back to the car, after pushing it open. The bumpy road I had experienced was the dirt driveway to this place.