Beyond Terminus (Book Two)

Chapter 32: The Road Before Us

One funeral and silent tears later, we've laid Tyreese in the ground and have continued on our journey down the road.

I can't believe we lost another group member, and seeing the cross with his iconic beanie sitting overtop just made it feel even more real.

We lost another friend.

Rick has decided that we're going to Washington, cure or none. I'm just hoping for a safe place.

The morning is hot, and the sun beats down on our sweaty foreheads and exposed shoulders. Everyone sits beside the van save for Daryl, Sasha, and Maggie. They went looking for water.

I shut my eyes, trying to divert my thoughts from my parched tongue and aching everything. It's been a day and half without water, and we're all feeling the side effects of dehydration. No one makes any conversation, but I'm ok with that. It's not like we have much to say.

Suddenly, my stomach twists and what feels like an invisible force punches up my throat from my stomach. I fall forwards onto my hands and knees, dry heaving. There's nothing in my stomach to throw up, but my body is telling me to. It's hard to breathe, my breath heavy.

"Hope?" Rick asks, his tone concerned.

My stomach keeps trying, but I can't. I physically can't, and the pain is making tears well in my eyes. My nose nearly brushes the dirty ground beneath me, and yet my stomach won't stop convulsing. I feel Carol's hand on my back, rubbing comfortingly.

I can hear the others muttering worriedly to themselves, and the returning of three pairs of footsteps tells me Daryl has shown up too.

"What? What happened?" his Georgian-accented voice demands.

"Morning sickness. She doesn't have anything to get rid of," Carol explains.

His arms surround me, pulling me into a tight embrace just as the heaving stops. I whimper and shut my eyes, leaning against him. I can just tell his eyes are watching me whilst the others are looking at both me and each other.

"No water?" Rick asks.

"The creek's dried up," Sasha says, deadpan.

"Then we've got to keep moving. Everyone back into the van."

We oblige. Glenn hands me one of our last water bottles, and Daryl takes it before I can refuse.

"You gotta drink somethin'," he murmurs.

I sigh and take a tiny gulp from the lukewarm plastic bottle. He holds me close and rubs my arm slowly as the car rolls down the road.

Daryl's POV

Soon enough, the car runs out of gas. We start walking, ignoring the growing amount of walkers behind us. Hope keeps stumbling, yet still refuses to let me carry her.

I keep wondering whether I should've just left my thoughts about her innocence to myself. I'm not saying I lied, just that I think I should've kept it locked away. No doubt she thinks that I find her weak. That's not true either. She's incredibly strong, but despite that, I think about Beth every time I see her.

"There's still good people, Daryl."

"I don't think the good ones survive."

My heart clenches. They're so similar in many ways, save for that Hope's a lot older than she...was. They both sang, they were both religious, they both stayed strong when the going got tough...and the world hardened them just the same. Beth wasn't weak, but she got killed nonetheless.

It hurt to lose her; hurt like when Andrea shot me back at the farm, only multiplied by ten.

If the same thing happens to Hope, I know I won't be able to go on. I can't lose her. She and Beth were and are like little candles of light and hopefulness in this fucked up world, and now that one of them has been snuffed out, it's even more important the other one keep burning.