Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 22 - Outsider

"Let's go, get back in the house!"

I turned my head to Andrea quickly, who was calling for us both. To say I was surprised with Daryl's sudden outburst would have been a huge understatement.

It may not have seemed like a big deal to any other person, but when Daryl turned to tell me to get back inside, my heart leaped. I didn't know what it was about him, but every time he'd show even the tiniest hint of kindness towards me, it was blown way out of proportion in my head.

Maggie began to walk back up to the house, and after a quick glance back at Daryl, I followed her.

It felt strange, stepping into the front door of the house. This time it was Andrea who held it open for me, instead of Dale.

I remembered her snappy comments when he took me inside the kitchen, but now her face was soft and sad. It made me wonder if Dale and Andrea were close.

I was aware of her eyes searching mine as I walked through the doorway, trying to find something that Dale saw in me that she couldn't.

I didn't even know what Dale saw in me.

The lounge room was full of people, all crowded together in a misshapen circle. They were sharing a hushed conversation, one that I didn't really want to intrude on.

"Amy!" T-Dog's loud voice called. I was surprised he even knew my name, but after the two weeks I had spent here, I figured we were a hot-topic. And not in the good way. I followed his voice anyway, stepping into the lounge room, which was opposite the dining room from the hallway.

Again, all eyes had landed on mine in what looked to be caution.

The room was still naturally brightened from the weak sunlight, but it was barely enough to last another ten minutes or so.

"Could you tell us a little more about Randall?" Lori asked. She was sitting on one of those brown plush sofas and as she spoke she pulled her head from her hands.

I stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, wondering where the hell to start. What did she expect to say?

"I... I don't know what you mean by that."

"Tell us what you know about him," Hershel spoke up. He was standing beside Maggie, who was staring blankly out of the window.

"Oh." I paused, letting out a deep breath. I could feel my skin crawl from nervousness, as I'd always hated speaking in front of a big group of people. "Uh, Dave and I met a group of around four on the I-95 out of Philadelphia. We met Randall a while after that."

The room fell into silence, waiting for me to continue speaking.

"He seemed pretty, pretty normal at the time. He was kind of afraid," I coughed quietly, my throat suddenly feeling tight and scratchy. I was very nervous at that moment. "B-But as time went on, being with the other guys in the group ruined him. He was... He was so focused on fitting in with some of them, he ignored what was wrong and what was right."

"This one time, I went out to the car, and he... Well, they had come back from a run for food and Randall was hanging around with some of the worst guys. He was, he was laughing." I paused again, choking back what were seemingly tears. It could have been the reminder of the first day I was truly faced with what was happening at camp, or the pity I felt for whoever Randall had met. "About r-- about hurting a girl... In front of her father. He was laughing about... What they'd done."

Realisation seemed to dawn on their faces, as some people sank back in their seats.

"And he's going to bring them here?" Patricia spoke up, her eyes wide.