Hiraeth (The Walking Dead)

Chapter 19

Anything helpful that the hunters could find were thrown into bags strapped to Daryl's motorbike. Cans of food, towels, medicines, anything small that could be scrounged up from behind shelves. They stopped at an old department store with a half-broken roof last.

"Aye, clodhopper," Daryl shouted from across the dark store. They didn't even need their flashlights because of the sun through the open roof.

Cailey turned her head from an old shelf of empty boxes she had been searching through. Daryl stepped closer, then threw a piece of fabric at her. The girl unfolded it to see an old yellow knit sweater. "Sure Lori won't need it after the baby?"

"Won't fit 'er anyway, if she do. All yer' shit is stained and ripped. Not gonna get the blood outta that anytime soon."

Cailey began pulling off her old leather jacket, then her faded t-shirt, leaving her in the old grey sports bra. She didn't at all care that Daryl was around, he never cared about that kind of thing, anyway. She fit the yellow shirt over her head, and realized how soft the fabric was. Even after being thrown on the ground and sitting in dust for God-knows-how-long, it was in good condition. She looked back up just in time for denim to be thrown at her.

"Ripped, but no more than those damn things ya got on now." Cailey moved the jeans from her face in time to see Daryl stripping his bloodstained shirt off, and into a faded cotton button-down. "Jus' leave yer' old shit here, do nothin' but drag more walkers in, if they can even get in."

As Daryl began walking farther through the gold mine of a supply shop, Cailey pulled off her worn-down camouflage pants. Even Cailey had to admit Daryl was right- there were tears and bloodstains and rips all over them, to the point where someone could see her grey boxer-briefs through the holes. The new jeans Daryl had thrown at her were tight, it was strange, and there was one hole in the knee, but they were stretchy. She threw back on her leather jacket, even though there was a rip in the shoulder from the nail. Of course, she kept on her too-big boots, also.

"Hey, redneck," she shouted, Daryl entirely out of sight now. "Got a few tarps back 'ere."

"Tape 'em down," he yelled back gruffly. "We'll fold 'em on top o' the seat."

Tarps were like a godsend now. They could be used for shelter, for a cooking place, for bedding, for a mat, anything. Cailey took the two from behind a countertop, even though one was ripped. She folded and rolled them as tightly as she could, then strapped them to her back next to her bow with the bungee-cord in her quiver.

"Aye," she heard quietly. The girl jumped, then stared up at Daryl. He had three books in his hands. "Found 'em in the back."

"Whaddya gonna do with 'em?"

"Gonna teach ya to read," he stated simply. "Or Lori'll do it. Ain't gonna get far not knowin' how tah read."

"Got this far," Cailey shrugged as she mumbled. "Didn't know walkers'd be writin' me anything to read before I kill 'em."

"Quit bein' so damn thick," Daryl began to walk off again. He headed outside to his bike as Cailey stayed at her countertop.

The girl silently mocked the other hunter as he left. She pushed things over and around as she kept searching. She moved pieces of broken glass before she found a box of Marlboro on a shelf. It was open, but only a couple of the cigarettes were missing. "Fucking finally."

It had been nearly two weeks since she'd found any cigarettes, and it was starting to annoy Cailey. She had even begun to wonder what would happen if she rolled up ground coffee beans from their storage to smoke it. The teen picked up the box, pulling out one of the white cylinders. She held it in the corner of her mouth, pulling a small black lighter from her pocket to hold it to the end of the cigarette. Smoke slowly billowed out, and she pocketed her lighter again.

"Gonna start a damn fire in 'ere," Daryl muttered from behind. He slid a cigarette from the box in Cailey's hand, sticking it between his lips. He didn't bother to light it yet, and gestured Cailey to follow him back out of the building. He finally pulled his lighter out once they were out near his bike.

"Kid's gonna need food." Daryl began packing up his bike. "Ain't find any here, but we gonna have to look another day. Gonna be dark in a few hours."

Cailey began pulling her tarps from her back, then tightened them to the bike seat, just behind where she would always sit. "Don't moms breastfeed their kids or somethin'?"

"If the mom's starvin', then it won't do no good," Daryl pointed out around his cigarette. "An' if somethin' happens to 'er, well then." The man trailed off, letting Cailey mentally finish the sentence.

"Nothin's gonna happen to her," Cailey mumbled quietly.

"Oh, sounds like yer' startin' to like this 'shitty group.'" Daryl snorted quietly, leaning with one leg on his bike.

"I said they don't like me," Cailey mumbled even quieter. "And ya know that shit's true."

"Fer' some of 'em, yeah," Daryl shrugged. "Not all of 'em. They wanna like you. Still jus' scared of everythin'."

Cailey made a small sigh, leaning against the bike as she took another drag from her cigarette. The two hunters simply sat in silence together, leaning against opposite sides of Daryl's motorbike as smoke billowed from their mouths. It was nice to have the calm and the silence. They never got any now.

"Why'd ya let the ol' man live?" Daryl muttered out after minutes of quiet. "If it was my mans, I would'a let 'im go."

"I dunno," Cailey mumbled quietly, staring at her boots. "Just lost too many people already. I'd shoot 'im if I had to, no question. He pulls some shit, I will. And he ain't getting no redemption or anything. Still don't care about 'im. But," the girl shrugged again. "Didn't want it like that. Figured maybe he'd changed over the years. Haven't seen him or my mother in years. Obviously, he ain't changed."

Daryl only gave a silent nod. He stared out at the broken-down street and the old buildings, seeming to zone out. Cailey stared down at her feet with another silent sigh before crushing her cigarette butt on the ground. "Should get going," she announced. "Might need us back."

Daryl smeared the ashes of his cigarette butt on the ground, also, standing up straighter. "Should wash yer' mouth out. Ya know Carol ain't gonna be happy about smellin' you smokin' again," he joked quietly.

Cailey scoffed quietly. Daryl swung one leg over his bike, and Cailey sat behind him. She held onto his torso with her good arm as he began revving up his engine. He spun in a couple small circles before heading off back to the prison.