Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 10 - Dale Horvath

I followed Dale as he led me to the front of the house. I was still awed by how big it was, and how cosy it looked.

My apartment in Philadelphia was pitifully small, I had barely enough space for a sofa and television. The older man slowly walked up the steps, with me close behind. By the time we were on the veranda, I was preparing to stand by the door.

"You're not coming in?" Dale asked, opening the front door.

"I -uh- don't think so." I muttered, looking down at my shoes. I knew that if I went in there, I was going to be seen by Rick, Shane, or some other member of the group who wouldn't want me in their presence.

He scoffed, pulling the door open for me. "You're not bothering anyone."

I was pretty sure I had bothered every person I'd spoken to.

"I can't leave you out here on your own anyway, so you'll just have to come inside." Dale reasoned, using his free hand to gently push my back towards the door.

Fighting every urge in my body, I continued to walk into the tidy hallway. It was so strange walking into a completely normal house, with no broken objects, no blood splatters on the wall, no roamers. The house was just like any normal home would have been before the end of the world.

A small table held a photo frame, with a family of five standing in the middle of a paddock. Two teenage girls, a teenage boy and presumably their mother and father.

The youngest girl was wearing a bright red pair of rain boots, that particularly stood out in the image. Her blonde hair was pulled back in two pigtails, a cheeky smile on her lips.

An older girl stood beside her, with brown hair that reached just below her shoulders. She looked about sixteen, politely smiling to the camera. Beside her was another boy, with blonde hair to match the little girl. They were all smiling, each standing together as if they'd just had the best day ever.

Before I could begin to reminisce about my family, I had to remind myself that Dale was standing behind me. The image somehow haunted me of my family, my mother, father.

The hallway led off in two directions. One direction led towards a large lounge area, with at least two big sofas, very delicately decorated. I tried to act like I wasn't looking around, but I was failing miserably.

From a family who had a very modest living, this house was like a palace. Especially now, seeing as almost everything in the world was twisted and rotten.

This home had a certain gracefulness to it, something I'd dreamed of as an eleven-year-old kid, sharing a bunk with my teenage brother. My childhood home could easily fit in the entire first floor.

"This way." Dale said politely, trying to urge me into what looked to be the second doorway in the hall. We walked past a huge mahogany dining table, with 10 seats around it.

The room smelt like still-cooking food. I couldn't pin the exact smell, but it reminded me of the Sunday roasts my family used to have.

For some reason, I couldn't seem to get them out of my head.

These people had been living in luxury while Dave and I have been camping out with a group of terrible people, sleeping in tents every night in the middle of a field. To say I was envious would've been an understatement.

As we walked into the kitchen, the smell made my stomach growl out in hunger. I instantly identified the smell of cooking onions, and grilled meat.

Cautiously, I watched the back of Dale's bright yellow Hawaiian shirt as we both stepped through the door. I saw the same woman with dark hair from before, the one I suspected was in a relationship with Rick.