🫀 Lust for life - The walking dead - Part 3
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SUMMARY: A girl is on a solo roadtrip around America when the world as she knows it ends. New chapters every Thursday and Sunday - more regularly if I have the time!
Daryl Dixon x reader slowburn.
TW: swearing, merle
Word count: 2.2k
Part 2
Lust for life masterlist
Masterlist
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I’m out collecting firewood in the forest and the grainy wooden handle of my axe still has a shiny coating on it that causes it to slip slightly in my sweaty hand. My eyes are dilated wide and breath comes to me in short, sharp stabs of air. A gnasher is skulking about in the trees ahead of me. I know what I need to do but my legs are frozen to the ground; my limbs are stiff and won’t move the way I want them to. I always thought I’d be better at this.
Its groans are low and warbling, almost mournful, like it too is disgusted by its existence. It was a woman once, maybe. Long hair and a dirty dress clings onto it like a kid's loved and abused doll. The world has not been kind to you. I’m sorry.
Twigs snap beneath me alerting it to my presence, but she turns around too late to grab onto me.
A heavy squelch. Then a thump. It's gone and I turn away, I can’t bear to look at its rotting face or the brains pooling around her head like hair.
A soft breeze coils around the trees like a miracle, delicate strands pushing through the thick, unyielding heat of summer in Atlanta. A few days have passed since we all arrived and we’ve settled into a steady rhythm of cooperation around the camp. Shane's annoying but he means well. I’m fully aware it’s my distrust of male authority figures that makes me find him annoying, but being aware of why you feel something doesn’t stop you from feeling it. So I still rolled my eyes when he sent me off into the woods with detailed instructions of how to find wood that won’t smoke, as if poor little y/n couldn’t possibly already know that. I sigh. Maybe I’m too hard on the bugger.
I balance another branch in one arm and adjust my handle on the axe in another. The walk back to camp is a well known track to me already, I somehow became the firewood person but I don’t mind so much. It’s nice to get away from the camp a few times a day.
Sunlight is breaking through the treeline as I’m approaching home sweet home when I hear voices. Voices from 2 men crouched behind some bushes looking at our camp.
“Don’t be such a little nancy, baby brother,” Comes a slightly muffled voice, “when have I ever steered you wrong before.”
“They got kids.” The other man replies. He’s got a proper redneck southern drawl.
“We’re grown, we need more than them anyway. Stop being a pussy and take what you need.” I have a feeling he had that mentality even before the apocalypse.
“I ain’t being a pussy, just think we could find more somewhere else.”
My body is spent on adrenaline from the walker earlier and I find myself surprisingly unintimidated by these thieves.
“Not much to take if I’m honest.” I add into their conversation, looming over them with my sticks and bloodied axe.
Both their heads snap round. The older guy looks me up and down but the other man is obscured by a great big crossbow pointing directly at my face. Only blue eyes and shaggy brown hair peek over the top.
I let them both stand slowly and calmly say, “You do anything, I’ll scream and every gun on camp comes running.”
“Hoho, calm down sweetheart, we ain’t mean no harm.” The older one chuckles, giving an unsettling smile.
“Clearly.” I roll my eyes at his words and force the crossbow out of my face.
“You kill that?” I ask, pointing at the rabbit hanging from the younger's belt.
“Yeh, what of it.” He snarls, eyeing me suspiciously, but keeping the crossbow pointed away.
I take a second to consider them. They’re dirty. And smelly. But aren’t we all these days? They’re clearly pretty desperate if they’re considering robbing us, but capable enough to get some sort of food…
“If you join our camp and get us more rabbits like them, I’ll forget this whole trying to rob us thing ever happened.” I feel like an idiot saying it, too bold and too brash, but I’m hoping this sudden wave of idiocy comes off as brave or confident rather than stupid.
The older brother laughs in my face, “You got more balls on you than Darlina, little lady.”
Crossbow man looks away and tells him to shut up.
“Come to camp,” I say looking at the crossbow brother, “we can look out for each other.” I give them my most winning smile and turn away to camp, the sticks in my arm shaking slightly.
“We don’t need no one else looking out for us.” A shouted southern drawl follows my retreating form.
I can hear them having an intense argument as I head back to camp with my firewood. Despite his shouting the younger brother seems to be trying to convince the older one to stay.
The camp is already getting low on food. Who knew sharing my supplies meant for one with so many people would make them disappear so quickly! We really need people like them who know how to live off the land, even if they are a little questionable.
A quiet crunching of leaves alerts me that they’ve decided to follow me out into the clearing. Shane is already marching towards us, shotgun in hand, fuming.
“Who the hell are these guys, y/n.” He spits.
“Found them in the woods, they know how to hunt.” I reply, unable to keep my frustration off my face. Shane misreads this as frustration to the new additions.
“You get off on intimidating women, huh?” He directs at them, “Shoving your crossbow in their face to scare them into bringing you to their camps.”
“I invited them, Shane.” exasperation oozes from my voice, I can’t bear how antagonistic he can get, “They can hunt.” I repeat pointing at the rabbit on the younger’s belt.
I turn to leave them for their introductions or arguments, but they all follow me towards the fire pit. Sticks tumble from my arm into the now replenished firewood pile with a familiar clonking sound.
“You can’t just bring people you don’t know into camp, y/n.” Shane comments.
“I don’t know you Shane and yet you’re here.” He’s getting annoyed at me now, I am being a bit purposefully obtuse.
“What if they’re dangerous?”
“Starvation is dangerous.”
Shane clenches his fist and I suddenly feel very small in the shadow of his looming rage.
“Hey, hey, no need to get your panties in a twist,” The older brother says, putting his hands up placatingly, “we got our own truck and tents we can bring round, you lot won’t even know we’re here. Save for the food we bring back.” The shit eating grin on his face lets me know that’s definitely a lie.
“They’re your problem.” Shane seethes at me, finally turning to head back over to Lori and Carl.
I watch him go and finally extend my hand to the newcomers, “I’m y/n.”
“Well ain’t that a pretty name. I’m Merle Dixon and this is my baby brother Daryl.” The older one, now Merle, says, taking my hand in a firm grip. I already get the vibe he likes to be an arsehole on purpose.
I shake Daryl's hand as well, “You English? You got an accent.” His question takes me by surprise but I nod my head.
“Now looky here at my baby brother being all friendly, come on Darlina, we’ve got to get some more food for these fine people.”
Daryl scowls and throws another quick “Shuddup.” before they both head off to find their truck.
I spot Jacqui heading over towards me, we’re wearing similarly sweaty clothes and tired expressions.
“I wish I had AC.” She says, guiding me to sit with her on the grass, it crunches beneath us, brittle from the lack of rain. I laugh at her comment and sprawl out, kicking my legs in front of me over the patchy earth. The endless expanse of the sky is hot on my face and I cover my eyes with my hand when I feel a piece of fabric plonked over it.
“It’ll give you a little shade at least.” A muffled voice comes from outside my new world of blurry red.
“Wow thanks, sure you didn’t just want to shut me up?”
“That’s only a bonus.” Jacqui quips.
Silence settles over us, comfortable from this past week of completing tasks in companionable quiet. It’s strange how quickly things become the new normal. I feel a pang from the past, it shoves a hand into my organs and twists. The grimace on my face matches the twisted feeling in my gut. I miss home so much, it feels like the whole weight of my house has landed on my chest.
Britain isn’t like this. It’s a heavy truth I keep quietly in my heart. I just know it. The waters surrounding it became like the moat of a castle and they’re carrying on without me. My family is mourning but they’re ok really. Mum is boiling the kettle, my sister is reading a book and my Dad is complaining about the hose ban from the heat. My grimace turns to a smile and the grass cradles my tired body. I can feel it in my heart.
A shadow appears in the red fabric, smaller than an adult, I peek out and see Sophia standing above me.
I give her a big grin, “You ok Sophia?”
“Mom said it was ok to ask you to read me that book again.”
I look over at Carol who's talking meekly to Ed and immediately nod my head saying, “Of course I’ll read to you, why don’t you round up the others so they can all listen.”
“I’ll leave you to that.” Jacqui says, hurrying off, she always seems to do that when the kids are around.
I don’t have long to be concerned about it, however, when Sophia, Carl, Louis and Eliza plonk themselves down in front of me.
I’ve been reading them a battered copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, hoping to give them at least some sense of normalcy or escape. Out of all the silly and mildly humiliating voices I’ve been attempting, Hagrid is their favourite by far.
Today, I decide to hand the book around and let the kids have a go at doing their own voices while reading the story to us. A warm glow settles in my chest watching them giggle with each other. Seeing Sophia become less shy and more sure of herself, as the others laugh at her Dumbledore, almost makes me want to throw up it's so heartwarming.
My gaze wanders over to Carol who stands at the edge of the circle and watches Sophia, her expression is a tangled web of longing, guilt and overwhelming love. I catch her eye and gesture for her to join us but she gives me a small smile and shakes her head in rejection.
“That was brilliant Sophia,” I say when she finishes the paragraph, “how about we invite your Mum in, have Carol read us a little something.”
4 expectant heads turn around to face Carol, I try to hide my smile. She shuffles over, dragged by an enthusiastic Carl.
“It’s not hard, just do silly voices.” Carl encourages.
Carol starts reading and there’s a sensitivity in her delivery that draws you in, makes you hold onto every line. But she’s also, unexpectedly, hilarious. I’ve not talked to her much because of her overbearing husband, but her comedic timing and the wit she adds to the lines are perfect.
The sun is crawling across the sky but the kids are laughing and shouting, adding their comments and arguing about what Harry should or shouldn’t do. The quiet movement of camp goes on around this bubble of delicate distraction. Until someone's belly grumbles.
I snicker, “Hungry are we?”
“Ok, you guys go back to your parents, I’ll start up the fire and scrounge dinner together.”
Dinner isn’t as somber as normal. The Dixon brothers managed to catch some random animals that I attempted to cook into stew before Carol took over laughing. It seems making fun of my cooking was a funny enough topic to spur some life back into the group.
I spot Daryl avoiding the fire and heading over to his truck, it has a pretty sick motorbike in the back. Jumping off the log I’m on, I jog over to him with a spare bowl of stew in hand.
“Your brother got some earlier but here’s yours,” I say, holding the plastic bowl out with a smile, “thanks for getting it for us. It’s the first bit of meat we’ve had all week.”
“S’no problem.” He grumbles, taking the bowl and immediately walking away.
“No thank you?” I tease out of habit. The sight of his crossbow slung over his shoulders makes me quickly regret my tradition of riling up strangers.
“What for, I caught it.” He retorts, not even bothering to turn around.
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