my tears ricochet

Chapter Seventy Three

Ivy leaned slightly into Daryl's side as people closer to the four graves began throwing handfuls of dirt. Each of the bodies had been wrapped up in plastic blue tarps and Ron's ravaged remains had been bundled as tight as possible to prevent anyone from seeing the extent of the damage. They were standing near the edge of the crowd with Maggie, Glenn, and Beth; mere spectators of the process.

"I know we had our differences," Glenn said thinly, drawing attention from a woman nearby, "but those were really good guys. It's an honest shame this happened."

Daryl suppressed the urged to drive his elbow into the man's side. Abraham was standing head and shoulders over most of the crowd and he could see him paired off with Rosita, their faces blank from any emotion. But every so often he would scan the audience and find Abraham looking back at him with his eyebrows lifted slightly, obviously bored with the affair.

The funeral was a lengthy process. Gabriel's voice was relentless, chasing scripture and poetic turns of phrases that Daryl mostly tuned out. He busied himself by watching the visible faces for any sign on unease, a vulture observing for potential targets.

It was impressive that Jessie had found herself widow's black to wear. She was sobbing and Rick awkwardly patted her shoulder as he looked at the piles of dirt.

'Can we go home now?' Ivy signed, keeping her gestures small and private for only Daryl. 'Isn't it bad luck to be attending the funeral of a man you killed?'

'No such thing as bad luck.' Daryl replied before slipping a hand to the back of her neck and squeezing lightly. Beth looked over and tilted her head at Ivy slightly with one shoulder hitching up a fraction. Their silent conversation passed quickly with a few spare looks, clearly apathetic to the process of burying the dead.

Maggie had cut Beth's hair that morning, fixing bangs to help cover up the cut across her forehead. No one commented on it or the bruises peeking out from where her sleeves pulled back just slightly but Daryl was keeping his eye out, arranging both girls so they were framed between him and Maggie and Glenn. If someone was going to say something, he would be right there to hear it first.

'Did you get a mugshot when Deanna locked you up?' Ivy asked, fingerspelling the word 'mugshot'. Criminal vocabulary had been largely absent from her previous studying of ASL so she shuffled through the letters to fill in the blank.

He gave her a look. 'No.'

'I want a mugshot. What do you think it would take? Alter to Satan? Set buildings on fire?'

Oh, the high bars to strive for, Daryl thought idly, imagining the havoc caused for one bad photo. 'Grounded for life. That worth it?'

Ivy's face made it clear that she was weighing the pros and cons while Gabriel finished up a lengthy prayer, clearly oblivious to the man's voice from their position. Their vantage point allowed Daryl to scope out where Aaron and Eric were standing in a fairly close proximity to Enid, some vague arrangement developing amongst their unit. When he looked back to Ivy he saw her flash fingers at Beth, counting high places around the ramshackle looking graveyard.

It was different from the graveyards they had started and abandoned over their journeys. They were merely guests to this place, no ties or connection to anyone laid to rest. Funerals like this were e a luxury. Oscar managed one at Gabriel's church but most of their dead had methodically been laid to rest and left with sparse flourish.

Merle's body was rotting in some shed in Daryl's memory. Hershel was abandoned to the edge of their prison, Lori's body consumed. Their ends had been violent and he hadn't done right by any of them.