62. Where Do We Go From Here?
'I just need a quiet place,
where I can scream,
how I love you.'
-mitski
⤐
The moon was full on the night Zeppelin and Daryl would die.
By the time Zepp had accepted her fate, the rain had stopped, and the clouds gave way to the violet sky. She watched it for a moment, through the foggy glass panes of the window, past the clamoring hands of the dead, and above the ancient, towering tree tops. It made her feel smaller, and that made her feel worse, somehow.
"I love you," she finally whispered, her forehead now slick with sweat against Daryl's where they pressed together. Her hands shook as they clung to him, and she held on tighter. She never wanted to let go.
"I love you," Daryl's voice was strained and distant. The cold metal of the gun pressed to her temple made her cringe, and she forced herself to keep her gaze steady on his own. "I love you so, so much."
She'd see him again; she was sure of it. They were both too damn stubborn to let this be the end. And then maybe she'd see Abe again, Glenn, and Veronica... Veronica would be there, too. She was probably sitting on a beach somewhere, with her knees to her chest as she watched the waves crash onto the shoreline and waited patiently for Zeppelin. And her brother... she swallowed the lump in her throat and waited for the sound of the trigger clicking.
Snap.
The front door cracked, and the splinters of wood showered the tiny room as the dead begged to enter. Zeppelin spared another glance, saw three of them fighting to get in first, then looked back to Daryl. The man she loved. The only one she'd ever love. She didn't want to miss a single second of him.
"Daryl, please." He was hesitating, and they were losing time. If he couldn't do it, he might miss his chance to follow her quickly. Painlessly. She didn't want to be the one to shoot first. The thought was enough to push her over the edge of madness, but— but if he couldn't do it, she had to.
She loosened her grip on his hand, and pain contorted his beautiful face. She almost reached for the gun, almost shouldered the burden for him. Then, a horn rang out, loud and wild and wailing.
But that couldn't be right, could it? Then it sounded again—clear and bleating, and the pistol went slack in Daryl's hand.
The horn rang again and again, until the walkers lost interest in the tiny cabin and slowly turned to face the commotion.
"What the fuck is that?" Zeppelin wiped the tears staining her cheeks and let out a shaky breath. "Who is that?"
Daryl said nothing; he hadn't even looked up. His watchful eyes never strayed from her face. "I don't know," he murmured.
The horn blew once more, and this time, it was echoed by a voice. "Hey, assholes!" The voice belonged to a man, young by the tone. "Over here! Yeah, this way!"
Someone was leading the horde away. A woman joined in, her whistle ringing out sharper than the horn. "Come on, you dead fuckers! Come and get it!"
It wasn't until the gunshots started that Daryl finally tore his gaze from Zeppelin and directed it at the shattered cabin door. "Who the fuck is that?" He echoed, and they both jumped to their feet. He motioned for her to follow, but she was already two steps ahead as they crept to the door. Through the shattered remains of wood, they peeked out into the forest.
"A goddamn bulldozer," Zeppelin whispered in awe, as if Daryl himself couldn't see the large yellow truck circling the small clearing ahead. A man she couldn't see was at the wheel, waving and shouting at the dead as he drove right through them all. Blood and guts sprayed in all directions as he splattered the corpses, a wave of hooting accompanying every splash. And in the passenger seat, a woman—with blonde hair.
Zepp's breath stilled, and the hair on her neck stood to attention before she furiously shoved that feeling down and dug her nails into her palms until the pain pulled her back up.
Daryl noticed, and his eyes dragged from her face to the wild blonde hair flying and whipping out the window of the bulldozer. He hooked his hand around her own, pulling her fingers away from her skin. Before she could think about it anymore, the truck circled back around and pulled up next to the cabin.
The woman lifted herself up and slid out the passenger window to climb onto the hood of the bulldozer, dangerously close to the blade in front, but she didn't seem to notice as she swung a... a baseball bat... at the dead over and over again. Meanwhile, the man leaned out his own window, his rifle blasting off again and again as they took down the surrounding horde.
"Come on! Get in!" The man shouted at Daryl and Zepp, though she wasn't sure he could've even seen them in the shadows of the cabin. "We'll cover you!"
Zeppelin looked to Daryl. Whaddya think? He seemed to ask.
That or death, she shrugged. He must have agreed, and together, they ripped away the sagging sofa and bolted out what little was left of the cabin door. Even as they sprinted for the truck, a corpse was close enough on her heels that she could feel the hot rank of its breath on her neck, and she shoved it away as the strangers took out the ones blocking the truck.
"Let's go!" The woman shouted as she knocked away two more reaching for her ankles. When they were close enough that Zepp could make out that her eyes were green, not blue, she slid through the truck window and waved.
Daryl covered Zepp's back as she hopped in, then followed soon after. They squished in next to the strangers, leaning as far from them as possible, and the man at the wheel laughed as he pointed to the sky. "Someone up there is looking out for you today!"
Zeppelin didn't know anything about a higher power, but if there was one sending them a stroke of luck, she thought it was damn well deserved. She did take some comfort in the thought that the people she loved watched, and waited, though she didn't dare think of their names again. Everything was just too much. She shifted closer to Daryl's side and said, "Head East." Her voice was rough and unfamiliar.
"Works for me," the man grinned—wide and gleaming as he shifted the dozer back into drive, and Zeppelin tried to smother her cringe as they crunched over bone and flesh.
"How'd you find us?" Though the question was directed at the strangers, she didn't look away from Daryl as she spoke. He studied their surroundings with unsettling steel, his predatory gaze gauging the weapons they carried, the walkers slowly ambling behind them, and the speed of the dozer as they barreled through the woods and onto the highway. She knew he was likely gauging the distance and subsequent damage should they have to leap out. She laced her fingers through his and squeezed before she focused back on what the man was saying.
"Saw you guys crossing the highway back there," the man said, picking up as much speed as a slow construction vehicle would allow. "Saw the ghouls trailing after you. We were headed down from New York, pulled over, and well, here we are." He smiled again, and though it faltered a little as he met his companion's stare, he quickly brought it back up. "Like I said, someone's looking out for you."
They didn't respond. Daryl shifted closer, Zeppelin angling her hips to give him more space, and the blonde woman next to him zeroed in on where their hands interlinked. Almost immediately, she looked away, gnawing her bottom lip as she gazed out the windshield.
"Name's Tommy, this is my sister, Tatum," Tommy jabbed a thumb at the woman beside him. She still remained silent. They must have been quiet, too, because then he said, "Normally, this is where the other person introduces themselves."
Daryl cut him a glare, and to Tommy's credit, he didn't cower, but he tightened his grip on the wheel just a bit. The archer looked to Zeppelin as if asking some silent question.
Real or not real?
The same question she'd been asking herself since the horn first sounded. If these people weren't who they said they were, if they were working for him... True, they had saved them from certain death by feasting, but while she had no doubts that the Saviors would delight in seeing them torn to shreds, she knew Negan well enough to know he would demand they be brought to him alive. Unharmed was another story, she thought as she resisted the urge to touch the blood running down her arm, but alive enough to make them regret crossing him.
Finally, she murmured, "Veronica." The name cleaved through her, ripping and tearing its way through her chest until she felt herself pulling her heart out of its claws. Daryl squeezed her hand, tethering her back to the present. His other was still wrapped in the fabric of her shirt, and it dangled loosely at his side, hovering over the knife holstered there.
"Merle," he offered slowly. Zepp closed her eyes, just for a moment of relief, and when she opened them again, she found Daryl watching her. And the blonde woman was watching him.
"What?" Zeppelin snapped out, her head pounding in harmony with her blood. "What are you looking at?"
A muscle in Tatum's jaw twitched, and she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm glad we found you when we did."
Guilt washed over Zeppelin in unforgiving waves. She pushed it back outward and looped a finger around the green twice bracelet adorning her wrist. Once, twice, again. She repeated the motions over and over, tuning out whatever Tommy was babbling about as they headed back home.
Home. She and Daryl had no home. Not anymore. They'd been pushed out, or more so, she had, and because Daryl loved her so damn much, he followed. She didn't deserve someone as good, truly good, as him. And he didn't deserve... whatever she was. Silver tears lined her eyes, and she willed them to dry. She would not cry in front of these people—if she had it her way, she'd never cry again. Waste of energy.
"What brought you down from the Big Apple?" She hoped her voice sounded mildly curious and not at all like her fingers were already wrapped around the handle of her dagger, and definitely not as she had already honed in on the spot on Tommy's neck she would bury it in should he reveal them to be Saviors.
By the way Daryl's shoulders tightened, she knew he saw right through her. The strangers, however, didn't seem to notice or care.
"We wanted to get down here before the migration started," Tommy said as he glanced out the rearview mirror. "Nothing left up there but ghouls and the people that are, even worse." His sister glared at him from beneath the curtain of her velvet-soft blonde hair. Zeppelin wondered if the look was because she was less inclined to give up information so freely, and personally, she had to agree.
"The migration?" Zepp relaxed her grip on her weapons and settled further into Daryl's side, soaking up the heat radiating off his bones. Even still, they shivered in unison.
"We call it The Wailing," Tatum chimed in, her voice soft and melodic. "Millions of people in the Tri-state area, and they all just... died. Now they group up, and for whatever reason, they wander to the South this time of year."
"Ugliest birds I've ever seen," Tommy said as he turned the dozer to the left and rolled over a walker shuffling towards them.
Zeppelin bit back her smile and tried to stop focusing on how her arm throbbed. The blood dripping down her skin was beginning to dry, and the flakes of it itched underneath her shirt. She glanced out the window, noted the height of the moon, and nearly groaned. Almost two whole days without sleep and no food apart from the crumbly granola bars she stole from Gregory's office for her and Daryl, she was beginning to feel the effects.
"What the hell you doin'?" Daryl's gruff bark snagged her attention away from the muted black shadows of the forest to where Tommy was now pulling off to the side of the highway. Tatum inched closer to her brother, and Zepp almost felt sorry for her, but not enough to switch places with Daryl.
Tommy only shrugged, his left arm propped casually on the window as the other circled around to bring them to a stop in a small dirt parking lot. "It's where we've been staying," he remarked and pointed ahead into the woods. "There's a spot right behind that tree line." Then he turned off the dozer and hopped out, his sister practically leaping after him.
Zeppelin and Daryl remained as still as the mountain cats they'd crossed so many moons ago—hunters ready to strike.
"Come on," Tommy grinned widely. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you two look like shit. Some rest could be just what the doctor ordered."
"We're good here," Daryl ground out through his teeth, his tone sharper than the weapons in their laps. Zepp propped her feet up on the dash in agreement.
"You sure?" Tatum asked as she cocked a brow. "I think I saw some gauze in the bathroom, and you might need it." Her brother nodded, that annoyingly happy grin still plastered across the strong planes of his face. In the dim moonlight, Zepp wondered if the blondes were twins.
Daryl bared his teeth and snarled, "I said we're good."
"Suit yourself," Tommy shrugged, and then he tossed the keys on the dashboard and wrapped an arm around his sister, who was already leading them away into the trees. "See you in the am!"
Daryl hissed a curse under his breath and snatched the keys, stuffing them in his pocket. He met Zeppelin's questioning gaze and shook his head. "Just in case," he murmured. They were quiet for a moment, and only the sound of insects buzzing outside filled the air. Then, when she was sure enough time had passed, Zepp threw open the door and hopped out.
"What are you doing now, pretty girl?" Daryl groaned, already following her out of the bulldozer and around the side. His voice was strained, exhausted. He rubbed at his shoulder and huffed a bit before honing back into that wall of steel she always felt at her side.
Zepp trailed a finger down the bulldozer as she strolled around it—a casual, inquiring walk from a distance, though her steps had gone deathly silent beneath her. She crouched, squinting in the steadily rising moonlight, and traced that finger over the license plate bolted in the back. "New York plates," she murmured.
"That doesn't prove anything," Daryl said frankly. Zepp raised her brows and held up her palms in surrender, and he batted them away with a snort.
"What are you thinking?" She kept her voice low enough that she knew only he would hear her as she leaned against the bulldozer, avoiding the mud and rotten guts splattered there.
"I think that dude's too damn happy for his own good, but he's a good shot," Daryl offered. "Still not sure about the sister." He leaned next to her, his gaze locked onto where the siblings had disappeared.
"Something's up with her," Zepp agreed quietly. She didn't think the girl was a threat, knew she wasn't, but there was something more that she couldn't place. Her brain was fuzzy and tired, but she forced herself into alertness and tilted her head towards the tree line. "Come on."
Together, Zepp and Daryl crept into the woods, sticking to the shadows as they followed the path. When they reached the edge of the clearing the cabin rested in, they crouched in the brush and watched. There was a flickering candle in one window, and she could make out the shadows of their new friends as they settled in for the night. No weapons, no planning. They were just... going to sleep.
Even still, they sat in silence and watched for the better part of an hour, leaning into the heat of each other's skin. When her knees began to ache, and the hair plastered to her forehead had finally dried, she stood and followed the sounds of a creek babbling lowly nearby, Daryl trailing behind.
Still silent, they squatted in the swampy soil and drank more than their fill from the stream. Then, they peeled off their jackets, hissing as the dried blood pulled against their skin. The water was near freezing, and Zepp's teeth chattered as she scooped her hand in and gently rubbed it on her arm, careful to avoid the ripped flesh along her elbow and bicep.
Daryl did the same, and though he angled away from her, trying to keep her from seeing the extent of the damage from holding her in the crash, she knew. She knew what she had done. She shook her head and tried to rattle out that little voice that haunted her. Look at what you did to him.
When they had finished, shivering and wet, they headed back to the bulldozer. Zepp climbed in first, scooting over so Daryl could follow, then propped her feet on the dashboard and leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as he rested his head on hers.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into the dark.
"Don't be," he murmured back, squeezing her gently.
Then blackness overcame her.
⤐
Daryl would not risk closing his eyes. Not when the woman next to him was sleeping so soundly, so peacefully. He'd worry she was dead if it weren't for the steady thrum of her heart in her veins, the soft rhythm of her shoulders as she breathed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her sleep this well. He knew it was purely because she'd been so damn exhausted and miserable that her body turned itself off, but he took his wins when they could get them.
So when the sky faded from ebony to violet to cornflower blue, he pulled himself away from her so gently he'd been certain she wouldn't budge an inch. Alert as always, even in the deepest depths of sleep, Zepp cracked open an eye. "Where are you going?" She grumbled, rubbing at her chest like an ache was building there.
"I'm not going anywhere, Ace," Daryl promised truthfully. He nodded to the tree line, where, right on the suspected cue, Tommy and Tatum began strolling their way. "Least we know they're not gonna fuck around and leave us waitin' for them."
Zepp watched them quietly, her eyes roving over the trails of the long, blonde hair that flowed over Tatum's shoulders. He knew what she saw. Who she saw. He placed his hand over her wrist, the one marked with that faded V, and squeezed once. She looked down, only for a second, then she pulled away. He felt his heart throb a bit, but he ignored that and followed her down and out of the bulldozer.
"Morning, sunshine," Tommy grinned, winking at Daryl as they closed the distance between them all. Daryl would've lunged if he hadn't noticed the corners of Zepp's lips twitch. Instead, he just stared.
"So, where were you guys headed before, you know, all that?" Tommy cringed, and his sister copied the motion. "Sorry, by the way."
"Nowhere," Zepp shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. Her stance was too casual to be labeled menacing by a stranger, though anyone who knew her would rightly stand a few feet back. "We tend to wander."
Tommy sighed, mimicking Zepp as he leaned against the bulldozer. His eyes were a sharp blue, a little greener than Rick's, and his dirty blonde hair was cropped close to his clean-shaven face. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his ever-present grin was straight and gleaming. He looked every bit the pretty boy, though from the muscles even Daryl could see layered beneath his leather jacket, he wasn't to be underestimated either. And if he guessed right, Tommy's annoying casualness and swaggering smiles were just another way to distract others from that fact. He was similar to Zeppelin in that way, Daryl supposed.
"Yeah, us too," Tommy said as he toyed with the peeling paint he leaned against. "Shame. We were hoping to find something more down here... gets kinda lonely, right?" His sister had gone wholly still beside him.
Zepp shrugged, squinting one eye against the morning sun. "We have each other."
Without warning, Tatum shot straight up, pushing away from her brother and stalking off into the highway. By the time she crossed the pavement, Zepp's hands had flown to her dagger, and Tommy eyed her warily. The woman kept walking until she stood at the hill's edge, put her hands on her knees, and dropped her head below her shoulders.
"What's up with her?"
Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly pulling into himself as he searched for the words. "We were in the city when it all started. It was... there are really not any words. You know," he chucked grimly. "I remember way back when, I read some article in the Times that said there were three to four million people in New York City on any given day. So when that first wave came in, there was just no stopping it. No fighting it." Zepp's features had softened, and she shifted her weight back and forth.
"We managed for a while, found some others that were good and strong. But it didn't last. Never did." Tommy's voice echoed around them. "Then we met this group that was holed up in a Macy's, had a whole set up on the fourth floor—it was sick. This guy Rico ran the whole thing, but he was kind. Smart. Tatum fell in love right away; no surprise there. He could've been a model or something, for all I knew."
He was rambling now, and his tear-lined gaze locked onto Tatum as she looked out into the horizon and tried to catch her breath. "That group lasted longer than any other we'd found. We were a family. Then... then one day, there was an argument between Rico and his brother. We don't really know what set it off. But his brother killed him. Then and there. Left him in his bedroom for Tatum to find when we got back from a run."
Daryl felt his gut twist into itself, his chest aching. It made him sick to think of what Rico must have felt, to know he wouldn't be getting back to the woman he loved. He suddenly felt the urge to pull Zeppelin very, very close.
"Tatum couldn't be there anymore, so we left. A few months later, here we are. Feels good to talk to someone other than my sister for a change," Tommy said with a grim smile. He sighed deeply, releasing pounds of pressure from his lungs. "They would've done anything for each other." His gaze never left his sister, one watchful eye trained on her at all times—as if he was afraid that the moment he looked away, she'd take her own life. "I've never known a love like that."
Daryl felt Zepp's eyes on him, and he couldn't help the smile creeping along his face. He'd follow her to the end of the earth and back again. He looked down to his favorite shade of green, and felt warmth spreading across his face, down into his blood and his bones. They had each other. And nothing else really mattered anyway. Zepp nodded, the answer to his question. He looked back to Tommy, who had watched their interaction with a gleam of hope in his eyes.
"How many walkers have you killed?"