In the Very End: Book One

Chapter 34

*WARNING: Please be advised that this chapter contains mature content and strong language.*

Chapter 34
Quinn's POV

I held onto Daryl's torso as we approached an old farm area on the bike. This is where we were meeting up with the Governor to negotiate. Daryl and I got off the bike. He had his angel wings on, while I was wearing one of his old ripped plaid shirts. I raised my gun as Rick followed behind me down through the silos.

Daryl held his hand up, telling us to stop. He pointed ahead at a large barn. We continued through the silos, making sure to watch our backs. We jogged in silence all the way to the barn. We came across a walker that had been recently taken down. Daryl bent down while I kept watch. Rick jogged ahead and Daryl examined the blood.

"Fresh?" I asked.

He grunted and wiped his hand on the grass. "C'mon."

Rick pointed us in the opposite direction that he went. Daryl and I nodded as we jogged down the side of the wooden barn.

"You think he was here already?" I asked as we ran side by side along the beaten down path.

"Might've been," Daryl answered. "That walker was taken down recently. If he's here, you stay behind me. He fires, you ain't the one takin' the bullet."

"...and what if he shoots and hits—"

Daryl held a hand up, silencing me. He peered up into a window and I was right up next to him on my tiptoes. Rick and the Governor were inside. I couldn't hear what they were saying, all I could see was the Governor taking off his belt with his guns on it. Rick's Python was still pointed at the Governor's chest.

"C'mon," Daryl said as he grabbed my hand.

I laced my fingers through his fingers as we came back around the hay bales. Hershel drove up in the car, and surprisingly, Daryl didn't let go of my hand like he normally did.

"He's already in there," Daryl notified, "sat down with Rick."

"I don't see any cars," Hershel aquainted.

"Yeah, it don't feel right. Keep it runnin'."

The rumbling sound of a car engine came from inside the fences across the street. Daryl let go of my hand and tapped on the hood of the car.

"Heads up."

Daryl held up his bow and I pointed my gun as the car approached. It came to a screeching stop and they all stepped out; Andrea, a muscular Latino, and a man with strict attire and glasses.

"Why's your boy already in there?" Daryl asked, still trained on them.

"He's here?" Andrea asked.

"Yup."

Andrea rolled her eyes as she stepped into the barn. I paced back and forth slowly as I waited for Andrea to come back out.

"Maybe I should go inside," I offered.

"The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately," the man with glasses spoke up.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl asked.

"Milton Mammet," he responded, a clipboard in hand.

"Great, he brought his butler," I muttered.

The boys laughed quietly.

"I'm his advisor," Milton corrected.

"What kind of advice?" Daryl asked.