Beyond Terminus (Book Two)

Chapter 15: Messed Up Burrito Walkers

Morning comes, and I open my eyes slowly. Daryl is gone, but Carol still sleeps soundly on her bed.

I hear thumping that prompts me to get up. I pull on my jacket and comb my hair as best I can manage.

I head down the hallway, rounding the corner. Daryl stands next to the fallen bodies of two walkers; a woman and a child. He looks up at me, his eyes sad.

I don't say anything as we wrap the bodies, carrying them out to a separate roof, where Daryl starts a fire.

Only a little while later, as I'm lowering the child's body into the flames, Carol walks out, staring at the smoke.

"Thank you," she murmurs, and we nod in reply.

The smoke curls into the early morning air, and we watch it disappear.

----------

"That car was headed downtown," Daryl says as we gather up our things. "I say we get up in one of the tall ones, get ourselves a view, see what we see."

"We can stay close to the buildings and keep quiet," I add, checking the ammo in my pistol.

"Sooner or later, we're gonna be drawing 'em," Carol mutters.

We head back out into the streets, Daryl leading and Carol bringing up the rear with me in the middle. We stop near a building, and he pokes his head around the corner.

"A'ight, we can get up there. There's a bridge," he says after a moment.

He pulls out his lighter, motioning for me to hand him a discarded book. I grab it, and he lights it once it's in his hand. He lets the flame grow for a moment before chucking it in the opposite direction that we plan to go. The walkers stumble towards the new heat source, and we take off towards the parking tower and building Daryl mentioned.

Once inside, we keep our weapons ready. Most of the doors leading inside are boarded up, but not locked too tight. We get in easily.

As we round another corner onto the bridge, my eyes widen. Walkers, wriggling around in sleeping bags like disgusting, messed up burritos lay everywhere, growling and snapping.

"What the-" I mumble.

"Some days, I don't know what the hell to think," Daryl grumbles.

Carol and I pull out our knives and start stabbing the walkers, ending the noises. Daryl shoots a few and searches some other bodies. We leave the ones in the tents alone, heading past them as he retrieves his arrows.

I pull open the door at the end, held closed only by a few loose chains and a padlock. I shove my stuff through the gap, then Carol does the same. I let her squeeze through first, then I do. Daryl hands us his crossbow, then grunts as he manages to get through.

"Good thing we skipped breakfast," he says, and I laugh quietly.

We keep moving, starting to check the doors on either side of the hallway. Daryl whistles to us, and we enter an apartment that looks completely untouched.

I look around and Carol heads to the window, staring out at the Atlantan wreckage.

"How did we get here?" she asks as Daryl and I join her.

"I dunno," he grumbles.

"We just did," I respond.

"You still haven't asked me about what happened, either of you. After I met up with Tyreese, the girls..." she starts.

I bite my lip. I hadn't thought about Lizzie and Mika in a while. Carol was close with them, I wasn't. It simply hadn't crossed my mind. They're both dead, I know that, but I'm not sure I want to know how or why.

"Yeah, I know what happened," Daryl says. "They ain't here."

"It was worse than that." She shakes her head.

We stay in silence.

"The reason I said we get to start over is because we gotta," he says. "The way it was..."

"Yeah."

"The way it was isn't what's important right now," I add.

Daryl squints, placing his hand to his forehead and leaning towards the window.

"You see something?" I ask.

"I don't know. Hand me that rifle." He holds his hand out, and I place the gun in it. He raises it to his face, looking through the scope. After a moment, he lowers it and points. "Right there."

The three of us look towards where his finger leads us, seeing a white van with two crosses in the back window.

"It's been there a while," Carol says.

"Definitely one of 'em," I agree.

"It's definitely some kind of lead." Daryl turns and walks back towards the centre of the room.

"We should fill up," Carol suggests.

"Alright," we both agree.

"I'm craving pop-tarts. Is that weird?" I ask, flopping onto the couch.

"Did you like 'em before this?" he asks.

"Eh, they were alright."

He shrugs, and I smirk. He wanders around, stopping to look at some artwork.

"Hmm," he mumbles after a moment.

"What?" I ask.

"I bet this cost some rich prick a lot of money," he says, pointing to a pretty ordinary looking painting. "Looks like a dog sat in paint, wiped its ass all over the place."

I laugh, and Carol smirks. He smiles at us.

"Really? I kinda like it," I tease. In truth, it looks exactly the way he described it.

"Stop." He shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

"I'm serious." I can't hide the smile growing on my face, and a small laugh forces its way through.

"You can't fool me angel. I know you too well."

We head out, going back the way we came. Carol shoves the door open and let's me through first. I turn back as Daryl inches his way through.

"Get up."

We spin around, where a young boy with dark skin points a gun at us, his eyes wide.

"Hands up, both of you," he demands.

I stick my hands up slowly, looking behind me slowly at Carol. Her eyes are wide from the small crack in the door, and I shake my head, the movement minuscule.

"Lay down your crossbow."

"You got some sack on you," Daryl growls.

"Look, nobody has to get hurt. I just need weapons, that's it. So, please, lay down your crossbow."

Daryl looks to me, and he lowers it slowly.

"And your pistol," the boy commands me.

I drop the gun to the ground, putting my hands up again.

"Back up."

We do as he asks, our hands still raised.

"Sorry about this. You look tough. You'll be alright."

He grabs the weapons, then pulls out a knife as he cuts one of the walker tents apart. Walkers start crawling from it, growling and snarling as he takes off.

Carol scoots through the door as Daryl and I take down the other walkers with our knives. She raises her gun, aiming at the back of the boy's head. He's gone before she can shoot, and I down the last walker as we take off again.

The door we came through is locked again, and Daryl kicks it in frustration. He looks around, then he nods.

"This way. Come on!"