After your world fell into black putrefaction, you soon realize that walkers are the least of your worries. Tragedy and loss has led you to fear attachment more so than the undead. You thought hiking the trail of survival was best accomplished alone...
Driving down the vast stretch of highway with the two men, you kept a sharp look-out for any signs of settlements. But you had no such luck. The grassy fields that lined the road were barren. No tents, nor larger residential constructions poked out of the sparse patches of forest. Mountains loomed in the distance, and menacing, dark clouds shrouded their peaks. A storm was brewing. Thunder echoed between their monumental structures. Grey curtains of rain tumbled from the cumulonimbus clouds, but it was too far away to dampen your journey. You knew you'd feel heavy sheets of rain washing over the truck soon.
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Daryl was squashed awkwardly between you and Rick. He seemed extremely uncomfortable. His eyes darted this way and that, barely looking at either of you. Chowing down on some pretzel sticks, he played with one in his mouth. "Shit, look at that," he cursed while eyeing the storm. He sat back in his seat and gnawed on the pretzel. A loud clap of thunder made him jump, and he almost choked on his snack. "Goddamnit!" Spitting out the stick, he fumbled for his lighter and ignited a cigarette.
"What's the matter?" you laughed. "Scared of a little thunder?" While shooting Daryl a teasing look, you heard Rick chuckle.
Daryl glared at you while taking a drag of his cig. He resembled a disgruntled bobcat. "You'd better watch your mouth, sunshine," he warned.
"Calm down, brother," Rick said to the shaken Daryl and glanced at you with a smile.
You pulled out a cigarette, as well, and chimed in, "Yeah. Lighten up, Francis." Daryl growled. Lighting the tip, you puffed as the nicotine filled your lungs. Cracking open the window on your side, you gazed at the golden, rolling hills. You blew out a stream of smoke, and it billowed across the majestic scenery.
"So, why are you headed north?" Rick inquired.
You gave him a half-truthful answer. "Some jack-ass stole something from me, so now I'm tracking him down."
Daryl hummed and exhaled smoke. "Must be pretty fucking important to be traveling this far." His words were tinged with suspicion. "What did the prick steal?"
Elbowing his side lightly, you responded, "Something important."
"I ain't playin' a guessin' game," he snipped. "What was it? Don't gimme no bullshit."
You sighed and gave into his interrogation. "This may sound silly, but was he carrying a baseball bat on him?"
Raising his brow, Rick addressed Daryl. "Is that what he was hiding in his pant leg?"
"Was either that or his dick," the redneck bantered. "That's alotta fuss over fucking athletic gear."
Rick attempted to end the interrogation. Giving you a brief, thoughtful glance, he interrupted his partner, "I don't believe I asked for your name, earlier..."
