Adapting (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 55

Gemma's P.O.V
"Hey Carol?" Rick's voice asks over the walkie.

"I'm here." She replies, everyone around the fire looking at her in anticipation.

"We're half way there, just wanted to check the range." He states, the sound waves crackly.

"Everybody's holding tight. Made it five hundred miles, maybe this can be the easy part." She says.

"You gotta think we're due. Give us twenty minutes to check in." Rick says.

"We don't hear from you, we'll come looking." Carol says, her eyes looking at mine.

I nod my head as Rick speaks, "Copy that."

The line goes dead and she puts the walkie on her belt, taking a seat on the log beside Daryl. I glare in their direction as he just stares into the fire and she murmurs to him. I look to my side and see Gabriel looking between me and them, "What?" I growl.

He shakes his head, "Nothing, I'm sorry."

"Just spit it out." I hiss, getting extremely irritated.

"I don't know, I just find it strange that you aren't the one comforting him at this point in time." He says, looking over at Daryl.

I roll my eyes and scoff, "You don't know what you're talking about."

He shrugs his shoulders, "I may not know the details, but seeing as you're his wife... Shouldn't you be the one helping him grieve."

I stand up abruptly and throw my jacket to the ground, "You're right, you don't know the details. So keep your mouth shut." I hiss before stomping away from the camp fire. I walk into the woods for awhile, consumed in my thoughts. I stare down at my feet, glaring at the leaf covered ground. I bump into something and look up, shocked to my core. The walker grips onto my arms and lunges for me, I dodge it just in time.

The walker trips and falls on top of me, it's teeth reaching for my throat. I scream out and thrash against its hold, attempting to reach for my knife. The walker's rotten breath reaches my nose and I hold back the bile, focusing on my knife. My fingertips glaze over the handle and I can't reach it properly. I hear a scuffle in the woods and the sound of a silenced gunshot, the walker falling dead on top of me. Weakly, I push the walker off of me and I see Sasha leaning over me, her eyes hard.

"Thank you." I whisper.

She nods and holds her hand out for me and I accept, her pulling me to my feet. As I stand up straight, I feel a searing pain in my ankle. I hiss and lean against her side, "Shit!"

"What happened?" She asks.

"I twisted my ankle when the walker fell on me. I can't put much pressure on it." I say, testing my ankle.

She holds her arm out while slinging the gun across her back. She pulls my arm around her shoulders and wraps her arm around my waist, beginning to lead me back in the direction of our makeshift camp. We hobble into sight and the people look at us, "What happened?" Carl asks, rushing towards me. He wraps his arm around my waist and helps me towards the campfire.

"I'm fine." I say as they sit me down on the log. Everyone walks over and surrounds me, causing me to get flustered and cranky.

"She got attacked by a walker." Sasha says, taking a step back.

Carol kneels down in front of me and begins to examine my ankle much to my protest, "Doesn't look bad, just a sprain."

"I know that." I snap, once again angry with her.

The others look at me shocked at my outburst, Carol's eyes studying me. I let out a huff and pull my ankle back, "I just need it strapped and I'll go lay down on the backseat okay."