Daryl's Angel (Book One in the Apocalypse Angel Trilogy)

Chapter 56: Sickness

In the morning, I wake up before Daryl, which doesn't happen often. I lean over and kiss him on the nose. He snorts and his eyes flutter open. I laugh.

"What?" he asks, his voice still thick from sleep.

"Good morning Mr Dixon," I tease, kissing his nose again.

"Good mornin' Ms Starlin'." He rolls over and rubs his eyes. "What time is it?"

"I don't know...around ten?" I get up, opening my bag and pulling out a shirt and jeans.

I pull off my pjs and pull on the new outfit. Daryl grabs one of his shirts and pulls it down.

"This...is a mess," I say, ruffling his hair. "Almost time for a haircut?"

"Nah, I'll keep the shaggy look." He grins.

"Fine. You're lucky you look hot with it long." I grab my brush. "Let me comb it at least."

He waits patiently as I run the brush through his dark hair, and soon his bed head is gone.

"What's up first on the agenda?" he asks.

"I'm going to go take a shower," I say, pointing to my shampoo, conditioner, towels, and other hygienic items. "Brush my teeth, all that great stuff."

He reaches up and grabs me around the waist. I yelp in surprise as he pulls me onto his lap, kissing my neck.

"Could I join ya?" He grins devilishly.

I smack his arm. "No, you can stay here and be a good boy."

"I'm a man, not a boy."

I laugh, and he kisses me hungrily. I push off of his chest gently.

"Then be a good man. I'll see you soon."

I pull away from his grasp, leaving the cell and heading towards the showers. As soon as I get there, I wash my hair, finishing up quickly. The water is lukewarm, and I don't want to waste too much.

I towel off my wet hair until it is relatively dry, falling into loose curls. I brush my teeth and floss, liking the feeling of the mint as I breath in and out. As I finish pulling on my t-shirt, I hear a loud booming, then gunshots followed by screaming.

I leave my used towels in the showers and take off, grabbing my knife from my cell before sprinting towards cell block D.

When I get there, walkers are everywhere. People are screaming and walkers are biting.

"Hope!" Daryl yells and points. A little boy is scrambling away from a walker, crying.

I dash forwards, scooping up the boy. Daryl shoots the walker and I hand the boy to Karen. I run up the stairs, saving a few more people. Walkers drop like flies, and the screams of terror continue.

Soon, the walkers are all dead. We stare at the carnage, horrified.

Daryl comes up the stairs, checking the cells with me. Glenn and Rick follow. As we walk by one cell, a walker bursts out of it, grabbing Daryl's shoulder. I throw my knife and it lands solidly in the walker's brain just as its about to bite.

Daryl looks up at me with surprise etched across his features.

"Didn't know that was a throwin' knife," he says.

"It's not," I reply, my voice shaking at the thought of Daryl nearly getting bit.

I walk forward and kneel beside the fallen walker. I gasp, seeing the familiar face of Patrick. I pull my knife from his head and wipe it off, avoiding looking at the pale eyes and face of the polite young boy I once knew.