We're The Ones Who Live

Chapter Five - Shoot The Sheriff

Foster sat on a log, her bow still in hand. She hadn't slept much the night before, visions of walker's snapping rotted teeth haunting her every time she closed her eyes. She watched silently as her dad used a pickaxe to make sure all the downed walkers were truly dead, Glenn and T-Dog following closely behind him to drag the bodies away to a nearby burn pile. Foster coughed lightly, the smell of burning rotten flesh and hair making her eyes water.

"Hey kiddo," Daryl said, quickly walking up to her. Foster squinted as she looked up at him, her head throbbed wildly.

"Hey," she mumbled back. Daryl ruffled her damp hair. Lori had taken her down to the quarry earlier that morning to wash away the blood that splattered on her, that had dried in her hair, on her skin. Daryl sighed, kneeling in front of her.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered, putting two of her arrows back into her quiver that leaned against the log, "you did what a lot of people can't, you protected yourself and I'm so proud." Daryl grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. His eyes shined as he looked up at her, she gave him a sad smile.

"I thought I was toast," Foster said absentmindedly, staring at where Andrea still hovered over Amy's body. Daryl chuckled.

"Dixons are hard to kill," he replied. Foster continued to stare, her eyes blank.

"Merle?" she asked, turning her eyes to her dad. Daryl shook his head.

"That son of a bitch is still alive," Daryl snorted, "missing five digits though." Foster's eyes widened.

"He cut his hand off?" Foster whispered in shock, her mouth agape. Daryl grinned lopsidedly and nodded. Foster didn't know whether to laugh or cry, a small snort escaped her instead making Daryl chuckle. He pulled her into a tight hug, Foster grabbing a fist full of his shirt as he held her. Rick walking away from the cooking fire made Daryl stand up, keeping a firm hand on Foster's shoulder. Rick made his way over to where Andrea kneeled over Amy, slowly kneeling down. Foster's eyes grew wide as she watched Andrea cock her gun, immediately pointing at Rick's chest.

"I know how the safety works," she seethed, not bothering to look up.

"All right. Okay," Rick said softly, slowly standing up, his hands raised over his head. Daryl tapped Foster's shoulder, signaling for her to stand up. The pair made their way over to the main fire, Foster sliding her bow over her shoulder as she walked.

"Y'all can't be serious," Daryl scoffed as he slung his pickaxe over his shoulder, "let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time bomb." Foster smacked him lightly, sending her father a halfhearted glare. She knew he was right, Amy had to be put down before she reanimated.

"What do you suggest?" Rick sighed, obviously feeling defeated.

"Take the shot, Foster could get her clean in the brain from here." Daryl roused, "hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No. For God's sakes, let her be," Lori muttered, her hands landing on Foster's shoulders. Foster moved closer to her father shaking off Lori's hands with an apologetic look, she appreciated Lori but she was not her parent. Daryl huffed as he turned away from the fire, leading Foster away from the group.

"Wake up, Jimbo. We've got some work to do," Daryl spat as he walked past Jim, Foster acting as his shadow. She stopped in front of one of the dead half-eaten campers, she scowled. Daryl and Morales grabbed him from under the arms, dragging him away to the burn pile of bodies. Foster silently watched as he was hauled off, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

"Thanks." Morales sighed as Daryl helped, Daryl grunting in acknowledgement.

"What are you guys doing?" Glenn asked, walking towards where the men were dragging the dead man, "this is for geeks, our people go over there." Glenn pointed to a small row of dead campers.