Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

|9|

I could feel my body being nudged, but I ignored it, needing at least ten more minutes of sleep. I could hear Daryl scoff in annoyance as I turned over, facing away from him. He wasn't so gentle this time, sending a swift kick to my ribs. It wasn't hard or anything, but it was enough to get me to stir. Me being me, I groaned loudly, rubbing the spot where he kicked, and turned to face him, a pout on my face. However, he didn't seem to give a damn because he simply grumbled at me to wake up and stepped outside the tent. It was as if he knew what I was planning to do next – catch some necessary zzz's – because the tent started to shake violently.

"Daryl!" I whined but sat up. He won this battle, but I'll win the war! Yawning, I started to put on my boots and stretched my arms above my head, feeling a deep and satisfying pop come from my shoulders. Just as I gathered my very little belongings, Daryl looked back into the tent and started loading his things into his pack, his eyes occasionally snapping to me as he did so. I smiled at him and decided to roll up my sleeping bag, the least I could do for him since I crashed here two nights in a row. I handed him the rolled-up bag, patted him on the shoulder, and slung my pack over my shoulder before climbing out of the tent to find something to do. The sun was still rising in the sky, telling me it was still early morning. I greeted the group members as I walked past them, still groggy from my rude awakening. Carl ran up to me and smiled, arms extending to hug me. I grinned at him and kneeled to hug him. He's taken quite the liking towards me, and I was just happy that someone here in camp seemed to like me.

"You ready?" I asked him as I pulled away from our hug. He nodded his head, a glimmer of fear washing over his face. "You know I won't let anything happen to you, right?" He nodded at me again, but his smile never returned, "Go help your mom load up everything, okay?" He hugged me one last time and ran off towards his tent, disappearing inside. I finally made it into the RV and nodded at Dale as I passed him. He reached over and passed me a rifle, a smile on his face. Why was everyone so happy this morning? This might be a suicide mission, and people are so happy about it? I took it from him and checked the chamber, ensuring it was loaded. I have a feeling I'll be using this gun today.

"How is he?" I asked the old man before me, motioning toward the RV. There was only one person I could be referring to. He frowned and took off his hat, wiping his forehead.

"Bad." He answered, his tone sorrowful. Yeah, I knew it'd be bad, and honestly, I'm surprised he's still alive. I half expected him to be dead by the morning, but this could be a good sign. His still being alive gives me a small inkling of hope that everything will turn out for the best today. I cocked the rifle and squinted against the sun, figuring it was around seven in the morning.

"I'm gonna do a small patrol, and then we'll load up for the drive ahead of us," I told Dale, adjusting the pack on my shoulders. Beelining toward the trees, I began my sweep. It wasn't long until I found prints in the earth. Always aware of my surroundings, I followed the tracks, letting them lead me further away from the camp. The prints led me into a beautiful clearing providing a perfect sky view. The grass was massively overgrown, reaching just above my shins. I squinted and saw a figure in the grass. If I strained my ears, I could hear a masculine voice carrying with the slight breeze. I caught a bit of the slight southern drawl I've come to know. Creeping up, I watched as Rick continued speaking into what seemed to be a walkie-talkie. As I approached, he lowered the walkie, peering off into the distance, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Very quietly, I closed the distance between us and placed my hand on his shoulder, enjoying how he jumped at my touch.

"Jesus, June," Rick breathed, his hand flying to his chest. I grinned at him and joined him on the ground, placing the rifle in my lap. "Nearly gave me a heart attack,"

"Don't be dramatic," I teased, turning my attention to the amazing view in front of us. "Talking to someone?" I questioned, extending my hand and silently asking to view the walkie. He handed it to me, and I couldn't help but notice how beat up the plastic was – it had definitely seen better days.