•A DARYL DIXON STORY•
"I need you to listen to me. When we're out there together, if I say run, run. If I tell you to leave me, then damn it, you leave and you don't look back."
"Daryl," she sighed softly, shaking her head.
"No, I mean it," he argue...
'in the absence of the dark, there is only you. in the absence of light, I see you there, too.'
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Run, run, run. Zeppelin felt like she was always running from something. From home, from Atlanta during the fall, from the farm, months on the road, searching for the truck Jesus stole, trying to save Maggie... the list went on and on.
Somewhere in her subconscious, she'd assumed that one day she could stop running and just... be.
That day was not today.
When she left Alexandria, she could feel the eyes on her, much like the day they arrived at Terminus. That feeling made her stomach churn then, and she tried to ignore it now, kicking the motorcycle into high gear as she raced down the highway toward Hilltop. She was so close she'd be in Daryl's arms within a couple of hours.
If she could just make it there.
She slowed to a stop, her grip so tight on the handlebars that her knuckles almost begged to rip free of her skin.
In the distance, a man about the same height and build as her leaned with his arms crossed against a black pickup truck parked dead center in the middle of the asphalt. She swore under her breath and checked the road behind her. It would take hours to turn around and find another route, and god damn, she just wanted to curl up in Daryl's arms and sleep.
Fuck it.
She slowly rolled the bike towards him, her heart picking up speed with every inch she passed. The man uncrossed his arms when she drew near, widening his stance to block her path further. When she was a few feet away, she caught a glimpse of his hand twitching towards the pistol on his belt, though he restrained himself from grabbing it.
For now.
She swung her leg to the side and kicked the stand on the bike, narrowing her cold gaze. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties, with skin as pale as moonlight, and she noticed his eye color was eerily similar to her own.
"Passing through here, you mind?" Her tone was nothing short of condescending.
The man's shoulders shook as if he was silently laughing to himself, and once again, she found herself wishing she could read minds. If only to hear the shit people say to themselves that they wouldn't dare utter to her out loud.
"Got specific orders not to let you pass."
"Orders from who?" She snapped in anger, though goosebumps lined her arms, betraying her denial.
