In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 17

"Rather be the hunter than the prey." 

Erica

"Why the fuck did you bring that thing? You gonna eat it?" Daryl asked as we walked back towards where we parked our handy-dandy moving truck. I turned and gave the Dixon the most disgusted look I could manage, and both Glenn and T-dog followed in suit, brows furrowed and lips parted from how appalled they were. BOB, the cat I'd gotten from Toothpick and his crew, looking mildly concerned. 

"No, I'm not going to eat it." I scoffed at him. "I'm going to keep him, idiot."

"Won't he just get in the way? I'm not saying you should eat him, but maybe it would be better to just... let him go." Glenn shrugged. I can see their point, and with any other cat, I'd agree. A normal cat could potentially make a sound that would draw in walkers, and would just be another mouth to feed. But BOB? I'm about 98% sure BOB is no ordinary cat. 

"BOB is special, Glenn. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize himself or the group." I said confidently. There's just a different air around BOB, and the way he looks at me when I talk makes me feel like he can understand me, at least to an extent that other cats wouldn't be able to. If it does turn out he's just a regular cat, then I'm sure he'll just wander off into the woods or something, but at the moment, he's made no moves to escape.

"It's a cat." Daryl sounded dumbfounded by my 'stupidity'. Yeah, he'll see. BOB and I will show him.

"As long as it doesn't shit all over the place, I don't care." T-dog admitted. He gave me a pointed look. "But you're the one feeding it. Don't expect me to dish something up just because you ate all your share."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I scoffed. In my arms, BOB looked relatively annoyed. I don't blame him. I pulled him from the safety the makeshift nursing home brought him, and now he was being blatantly disrespected. I too would be heavily irritated were I in his position. However, I have no regrets. Something tells me BOB is going to join the ride or die squad, whether he can actually talk or not.

"Whatever." Daryl scoffed. "Not my fault if that thing gets yer sorry ass eaten."

"Shut up, Dixie-cup. Nobody asked you." I shot back. His eyes narrowed in retaliation, and I tightened my grip on BOB. I really don't think Daryl is above eating him as revenge. It's sick, but this is Daryl Dixon we're talking about. The guy and his brother fried earth worms up and called it a snack. I'm adventurous and willing to try new things, but that's a whole other level. One I don't think I'll ever reach.

"Admit it," Glenn addressed Rick, "you only went back to Atlanta for the hat."

"Don't tell anybody." Rick joked back, glancing behind us to make sure there were no walkers about. I rolled my shoulders a little. I'm going to have to deal with Dale when we get back. Explaining the shit in my trunk after being outed as 'an FBI agent' is going to be hard, but I'll have to make it work somehow.

"You've given away half our guns and ammo." Daryl noted, crossbow slung over his shoulder.

"Not nearly half." Rick protested. He's right; we really didn't give them that many. It's better than losing all of them, and our lives, though. I'm not sure if I should be thanking Ms. Hernandez or what, but at least I got a cool cat out of the whole mess. A cool cat who can probably talk, and really, what's cooler than a talking animal? 

"For what?" Daryl scoffed. "Bunch of old farts are gonna die off momentarily anyhow. Seriously, how long you think they got?"

"How long do any of us?" Rick countered. Seriously, his ability to deflect is something to awe at. There's so much shit I could have avoided in my life if I could negotiate the same way he can. Listening to him stop conversations that easily could have spiraled into full-blown arguments so casually, and realizing I could probably never do that shit, makes me realize why Sam and Dean never let me go anywhere alone. I piss people off.