Double Crossbow (Daryl Dixon) [The Walking Dead]

Chapter 1 ↣ Who the hell are you?

"I walk a lonely road / The only one that I have ever known / Don't know where it goes / But it's only me, and I walk alone."

- Green Day, Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

↣ ↢

Kathryn

IT WAS QUIET. I found it to be both a blessing and a curse. When it was quiet, I didn't have to worry about a monster trying to make me its lunch. I did, however, have to worry about my wandering thoughts, and I'd have a different kind of monster on my hands if I let them wander too far.

With a shake of my head, I refocused on what I had done everyday since the world had started its steady descent into Hell. At least half a dozen squirrels resided on a string attached to my hip, a pretty decent catch by my standards, but I didn't have much else to do with my time.

Snap.

The sound had me springing into an offensive position. Every muscle in my body tensed as I brought up my crossbow. Eyes sweeping my surroundings, I looked for anything sticking out of the natural sway the forest held. As I scanned the trees around me, everything looked as it should. No branches moved out of turn, and the air was filled with the obnoxious songs of happy birds.

Despite what my eyes and ears told me, I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched. With a few deep breaths, I forced myself to calm down, blaming the feeling on my constant paranoia. The nagging feeling was forgotten as a dash of brown fur crossed my vision. I followed my target until it came to a stop on a tree branch a few feet away from me. I was about to take my shot when, suddenly, the squirrel fell to the ground.

I looked down in confusion to discover my bolt was still sitting in its in place. I hesitated, but, in the end, my curiosity got the better of me. Cautiously making my way forward, I approached the tree the squirrel used to sit in. As I walked around its base, I came face to face with a man. We both raised our crossbows, movements mirroring each other in an odd synchrony. I cursed myself for allowing my curiosity to run rampant.

Calculating where his weak spots might be, I noted he had light brown hair and narrow blue eyes. Those narrowed slits reminded me of a cat. It seemed a lifetime passed as we both stood there, daring the other to make the first move.

"Who the hell are you?"

The silence was shattered as we both growled the question in a low voice. I glared at him, and he matched my glare. His death stare might've been a bit better than mine. Perhaps it was just the fact he had to look down to properly glare at me, while I, on the other hand, had to look up.

My eyes left the man for a split second as I heard a set of heavy footsteps. A different man, with curly black hair and a shotgun in hand, came walking up to us. I instinctively took a step back as he smiled. His smile was all too familiar, and it caused a shiver to run up my spine. The vibe this man gave off raised multiple red flags. His walk, the way he carried himself, it all screamed self-centered douche.

"Come on, Daryl," he began, "stop pointing that thing at her." An accent was detectable in his voice

Daryl hesitantly lowered his bow. He flashed an angry glare at the man before his gaze flickered back to me. It was softer than the last look he had given me, but uncertainty still shone in his eyes. I continued to watch both men with caution, ready to do whatever was necessary when the time came.

"We aren't going to hurt you," the man with the shotgun said, resting the weapon against his right shoulder.

I scoffed. "Oh, and you just expect me to believe in something as petty and meaningless as your words?"

A look of shock crossed his features before he held out his hand. "Shane Walsh."

I didn't shake his hand. "Kathryn Johnson," I replied. Shane smiled at me and dropped his hand. Daryl huffed in what I could only assume was annoyance. I could relate; I was rather finished with this conversation as well.

"Listen, we've got a camp-" Shane started.

"Let me stop you there," I interrupted. "You see, I don't play well with others, and I'm better off on my own as is. Let's just forget this little meeting ever happened, and we can go on our merry ways."

"Why don't you give us a chance," Shane said, as if it was a brilliant counter-argument.

Why was he so desperate? I narrowed my eyes at the two men. Daryl was indifferent, scanning the treeline. Shane, on the other hand, had a fierce determination across his features. I could easily see we would continue to go in circles. He would continue to try to get me to go with them, while I wanted to bolt for the trees. I could just run, become an odd memory to them, a phantom in the trees once more, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure if these two geniuses were trigger happy or not. With this knowledge, I decided to cut the middle. "Fine," I bit out, my stomach twisting in uncertainty all the while.

Daryl fixed me with a cold blue stare once more. I held his gaze, making it clear there was no way in hell he intimidated me. His eyes flickered away as he scooped up my squirrel. I was going to say something, but his bolt was in it. End of the world or not, I did respect the basic rules of the hunt. He then started walking in the direction I assumed their camp was. Falling into step next to Shane, I tried not to panic at the thought of interacting with other people.

As we made our way, it was quiet once more, the air disturbed only by the birds and Shane's impossibly loud footsteps. The moment of peace was short lived because Shane asked, "So, what's your story?" I stiffened, and threw him an untrusting glance. It was his turn to scoff. "Oh, c'mon. If we're gonna be running together, we might as well be friendly with one another."

"I've already told you I don't play well with others."

Shane shrugged. "Daryl doesn't either, but I still know-"

Daryl looked over his shoulder and growled, "You don't know nothin' 'bout me."

Shane glared at Daryl, and Daryl glared right back. A thick tension filled the air, and for once in my life, it wasn't because of me. Shane shook his head and looked away first. The tension diminished, but it was still quite awkward. The two didn't try to hide the fact they had an ongoing pissing party with one another. Shane turned his attention back to me. He gave me an expectant look, as if he still wanted me to answer his question.

With a sigh, I threw together a backstory. "I was at my house when I heard a scream. I ran outside to find a man taking a bite out of another guy's arm. I then ran back inside, grabbed what I needed, and left."

"What about your family?" Shane pressed. I shrugged, not wanting to answer his question. "You don't know where they are?"

I nodded. It was, at least, partially true. They didn't need to know my actual story. I wasn't one for opening up, sharing my feelings, and the 'let's tell each other all of our deepest secrets' bullshit spewed at a slumber parties. When you shared things about yourself, you gave people the opportunity to hurt you, and I had neither the time nor energy to deal with such bullshit.