my tears ricochet

Chapter Eighteen

"Take a minute and go back to the yard," Rick told Daryl as he sidled up with his gun in hand. Daryl's crossbow was a heavyweight that made his shoulder sing grief, keeping it levelled at the one man. T-Dog lurking in the shadows had been cunning enough to get Daryl's weak approval, stepping out last second to corner the prisoners on the back end.

Daryl refused to shift out of position. His finger was curled around the trigger and he didn't like the way the smaller man kept coming to the one man's side. Loyalty could have a certain kind of consequence for anyone on the other side of it. 

"Almost everyone was in the cellblock," Rick stressed, bumping his shoulder into Daryl's and forcing him to move to the side. "We'll wait."

He blinked before doing the quick math. Rick was being careful not to hint that it was a woman missing from their secure position, especially not a girl. They didn't know the crimes these men had put behind them and Daryl didn't care how their mothers raised them. Flaunting any of the women would be foolish, especially letting Beth and Ivy walk around and give them something to stare after. Until the prisoners were dealt with they would have to come up with a solution real quick to keep from provoking feral natures. 

"You send up a signal," Daryl told Rick. "I'll come."

It wouldn't be hard to listen for bullets, even down in the yard. "I'll holler. Don't take long."

He left the cell block and took off down the entrance to get to the field. They had left dozens of bodies sprawled out on the ground but the one area was secure from other walkers. Ivy was sitting on her knees in the long grass and he shouted for her, watching her jump up and turn.

"The hell are you doing out here?" He barked, coming up on her. "You're supposed to be with the others."

Ivy looked guilty enough and Daryl imagined this was the first time she had been left alone since the farm. After months of being shoved into tight cars and bundled up next to bodies to beat the cold. He tried to use that logic to soften his temper, to keep from grabbing her by the arms and giving her a good shake.

"Keeping an eye on the gate."

He was close enough that he could smell the alcohol in the air and he frowned. Ivy had her hands jammed deep in her pockets and looked guilty. "Let me see."

"No, Daryl," she said, trying to step backwards to turn around but he grabbed her by the arm and reeled her back, forcing her hands out so he could see the still bleeding sores, her fingers so dry in his own hands.

"This shit is done."

The first time he had caught her in the act she had been fixed in some trance, scrubbing at her hands with soap and sponge until she was bleeding, crying as she kept washing away layers of skin. Daryl was the one to hold her still, yanking her hands out of a bucket of water so he could kick it away. It wasn't constant and he hadn't managed to find a pattern but sometimes he would see the aftermath. The healing scabs, the hands so dry that they were bright red.

Ivy attempted to yank free but he held firm. "None of your business," she snapped. She didn't like anyone looking at her injuries. It didn't matter if it was from catching herself on broken glass or smacking her head while trying to get clear of a walker, she was private about pain. Sometimes Daryl could respect that, sometimes he couldn't.

"What'd you use?" Daryl demanded. It wasn't like Beth taking a dinner knife to her wrist in a fit of grief but it had him spooked, how quickly Ivy could go from normal to trying to scrub skin off with her fingernails.

"Fuck off."

He yanked her close and caged both wrists in one hand, the other bracing itself on her shoulder. "Watch that mouth, sunshine."