Life I Left Behind (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Chapter Twenty-Two

I ran until my lungs hurt, keeping stride with Daryl. My stomach was churning dangerously. The screams continued, full of anguish and terror. Before we even reached the fields, tears were streaming from my eyes. I knew what we were going to find there. I just didn't know who.

As we grew closer, the sounds subsided and it became horribly silent, a part from the sounds of a walker ripping into flesh. Daryl spotted the walker first and pulled out his knife, jamming it into the creature's skull. It fell to the side and I gasped as I saw who was lying under it.

It was Dale.

I fell to my knees, my breath coming in short bursts. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath, like my heart was just going to burst from my chest. This was the man that had stood up for me. This was the man who had trusted me and gave me a place to stay. In the short time I had known him, I had grown to admire Dale and even had begun to care about him. Now, he was lying here, covered in blood, his body torn to pieces. His breath was ragged and shallow. The only sound coming from his mouth was a horrible gurgling. I crawled closer, the tears coming harder.

"Dale." I whimpered quietly, grasping for his hand. His eyes found mine. They were wide, full of so much terror and pain.

"What do we do, what do we do?" I said in a panicky voice, looking up at Daryl. He didn't say anything. He was looking down at Dale with a mixed look of sadness and disbelief.

Suddenly, Herschel was there. Behind him came Rick, Andrea, Lori, and Carl. Lori gasped when she saw Dale and held Carl back, cradling his head into her chest. Andrea was on Dale's other side in an instant, grasping his hand. She was sobbing hysterically.

"Can you help him? You have to save him!" Rick was saying over and over again, though hopelessness was layered in his voice. He knew there was no chance. Herschel confirmed this a moment later.

"He's hurt too badly, losing too much blood. I'm sorry, Rick. I can't help him." He said quietly, barely audible over Andrea's sobs.

Rick nodded, looking numb as he pulled his gun out and pointed it at Dale's head. Dale met his eyes and seemed to be pleading for him to do it. God, he had to been in so much pain. I squeezed his hand harder. At least we would all be here with him when he went. Rick continued to hesitate, though. Finally, Daryl took the gun from his hand.

"Sorry, brother." He said quietly.

I squeezed my eyes shut and a second later there was a loud bang and Dale's body went limp. He was gone. I opened my eyes again to see Dale's still, unmoving form. Forever frozen in utter agony. Andrea draped herself over his chest, her shoulders shuddering with grief. I pulled myself to my feet and stumbled a few paces away where I abruptly began heaving and vomiting. I didn't know if it was from seeing the gore of Dale's body or watching him die, but I felt sick to my stomach. Yes, I had watched many people die. But I had never been that close for it. Right there when their last breath left their bodies. And Dale was so good…maybe one of the few good people left.

I fell to my knees, gasping for breath as the last of my stomach's contents came up. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and realized I was shaking. Next thing I knew, I was being pulled to my feet.

"Calm down, sweetheart. It's okay." Carol's soft voice was in my ear. She began to walk with me across the field, struggling to support my weight. I was feeling like my knees might buckle again and bring us both down when I was suddenly swept from my feet and into a pair of arms. A familiar musky scent hits my nostrils and I looked up to see Daryl.

"I don't need to be carried." I murmured. The image of Dale's spilled intestines popped into my mind and my stomach clenched again. I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes. God, why Dale?