Arden didn’t beg. The thought of getting down on her knees with her hands clasped tight and her eyes squeezed shut made her stomach churn, the thought of doing that in front of Daryl made her want to puke. Dark eyes followed the male as his shoes clanked against the metal stairs. Cracked pink lips parted slightly as his name came to her tongue only to be forced back down her throat. She could feel three pairs of eyes on her, their thoughts centered on what she would do. What would she do? It would be much easier to simply leave this place. Bags slung over shoulder and head held high as she strutted into a world stained with blood and reeking of decay. But what would occur after she left this place, when leaves crunched under her feet and eyes scanned the horizon in an attempt to tell the North from the South all while protecting herself from dead hunters. The odds of survival would increase if that hot headed redneck accompanied her, but his assistance would require effort on her part.
The first few steps were timid, as if an incorrect move would set of a land mine. “Daryl,” Arden grabbed a hold of the metal railing and increased her pace. Maneuvering the stairs caused her lungs to flare and the muscles in her thighs quivered, “Hey, Daryl wait up!” Blindly following someone, a man no less, was unfamiliar territory for the young woman and with each step she took a small piece of her pride was left behind.
His name came out as a hiss as Arden felt unfamiliar eyes tune into her actions. She had yet to meet these people and here they were watching her chase after Daryl, she could only imagine the thoughts running through their heads. Frustration began welling inside Arden as she knew that Daryl could hear her yet he wasn’t stopping or even flinching- as if her voice had no effect. A high pitched cry echoed off the concrete walls, dancing through the prison bars and causing Arden to cease her pursuit.
She twisted her waist until a young blonde girl came into her line of vision, and there in that girl’s arm was the whining infant. Her attention shifted as she heard the soft thud of crutches gliding along the concrete floor. In her panicked state Arden hadn’t noticed that Hershel moved with the aide of crutches and she couldn’t help but stare at the area where his leg should have been.
“She okay?” Rick’s voice was laced with vulnerability and concern as he walked towards the doe eyed blonde girl with outstretched arms.
“Probably just hungry, here,” A clear bottle filled with milk left Hershel’s hands and entered Rick’s whose blue eyes stared down at the baby in his arms.
Shoes scuffling along the ground indicated the arrival of the adolescent male whose distant eyes glanced up at Arden as if daring to ask a question but his lips were unable to form the words. A sheriff hat sat upon his head- a point of interest for Arden and had she felt better perhaps she would have asked where he found such an interesting item. Instead she licked her lips, feeling the dry skin with her tongue before looking down at the boy, “Whose baby is that?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed in response, his lips forming a straight line and hands remaining by his side, close to an empty gun holster. “Who wants to know?”
“Arden,” her hand quivered as she extended it out in front of her, though the boy did not accept the gesture, “You can’t leave me hangin.”
“Carl,” he nodded his head once as if here were an adult who did not believe in handshakes, “That’s Judith.”
“Judith huh? Pretty name.”
“Daryl nicknamed her Lil’ Ass Kicker.”
Eyes rolled as Arden’s head fell forward, her eyes examining her scuffed up boots, “Of course he did. Hey Carl, you friends with Daryl?”
“Maybe.”
“Mind showing me where I might find him? I have a question to ask him.”
Arm raised and pointer finger extended towards a hallway at the end of the prison cells, “Just went out there."
“I know that,” Perhaps the boy hadn’t seen her chasing after him, or maybe he did and was just being a smart ass, “Whose kid are you anyway?”
“I’m not a kid,” The words slithered from his mouth accompanied by his narrowed gaze. Arden could tell that he truly believed his statement, but from the looks if it he was no older than fourteen even if his eyes reflected hardship beyond his years.
Arden’s legs continued to shake as she watched little Judith squirm in her Rick’s arms. Her chubby fingers rested lightly against the bottle before falling back to her stomach. She was a beautiful baby girl with smooth ivory skin and sparse light brown locks peeking out from her scalp. Her blanketed body fit perfectly in the nook of Rick’s arm, the latter whose eyes softly looked upon the baby girl. “Rick’s her dad huh?”
“Yeah.”
Made sense, it also made Arden’s heart soften and regret her rudeness towards the father. When the outbreak occurred Arden believed that the human race would die out not only from being killed off by the undead but because who would be crazy enough to bring a newborn into this world? Yet here she stood watching as the newborn suckled the tip of the bottle while her father gently rubbed her cheek with his thumb.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?”
The crutches were easily maneuvered across the floor, aiding in the one legged man movements. Hershel’s words had brought attention to Arden, who met the young blonde girl’s curious gaze. “We haven’t met yet,” The young woman’s ponytail swung behind her head as she took a few bouncy steps forward, “I’m Beth, Maggie’s sister.”
“Arden,” Her hand slipped into Beth’s giving it a loose shake before retracting back to her side.
“I know,” Beth tilted her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders, “Everyone around here calls you Firecracker but Maggie let us all know your actual name. It’s a nice name, I like it a lot.”
“You give up on Daryl?” Rick’s question caused Beth’s eyebrows to rise as she flicked her gaze between Arden and the leader of their group.
Arden shifted her weight to her right foot, lifting her left and scraping the toe of her shoe against the floor. Her body wobbled, threatening to fall until her left foot made contact with the ground once more. Beth’s hand shot out, clutching Arden’s forearm though the dark haired woman quickly jerked backwards in order to release herself from Beth’s hold, “I’m fine,” Arden mumbled, “And no, I haven’t given up but he wouldn’t stop and talk to me.”
“Sounds like Daryl,” Hershel looked down the row of cells, “That hallway leads outside, you’ll see a red metal door, go out that and I bet you anything Daryl is probably out there killing walkers along the fence.”
Arden’s steps were definite and quick as she ignored Hershel’s warning that she should be resting- not chasing down a man who didn’t even want to talk to her. The hallway looked like midnight and the color of the metal door was unrecognizable with the dim surroundings. Arden’s hands brushed against the cold metal before she found the handle and attempted to open the door. A low groan filled the empty hallway as Arden used her shoulder to move the heavy door which once opened revealed a flat landscape of browns and greys. Further out stood two towering fences which promised a security from the decaying world.
The sun sat in the middle of the sky accompanied by wispy clouds which moved at a lackadaisical pace. Gravel crunched beneath her feet as with squinted eyes she spotted Daryl standing between the two fences. As she neared she could hear his grunts and the groans of the walkers which had been captivated by his beating heart and living scent. Arden’s fingers slipped through the fence as she attempted to calm her rapid breathing. Her fatigued body rested against the fence as she watched Daryl slam the end of a crowbar into the eye socket of a male walker. The victim’s blood splattered on Daryl’s forearms before his body fell to the ground which would be his final resting place.
“I need you to take me back.”
Daryl’s shoulder flinched as he swiveled around; the crowbar gripped tightly in his hand and prepared to attack. “Tch,” His shoulders relaxed as his eyes scanned the woman in front of him before turning back around and firmly driving the crowbar through a walker’s frontal lobe.
“Look,” Arden sucked in the humid air as she rested her forehead against the fence, “I’m….I’m sorry for what I called you.”
“You’re gon’ have to be mo’ specific.”
“Your accent isn’t stupid and you’re not a dumbass and ugh,” A strong shiver ran through her body before her balance was lost and her bottom hit the ground.
The crowbar dropped from Daryl’s hand as he looked down upon the young woman who was desperately trying to push herself up. Her right hand latched onto the fence as her left pushed against the ground but her legs were obviously shaking and refused to stand. “If you’re not gonna help then stop staring,” Arden hissed as she fought through the embarrassment and mentally prayed that her legs would simply cooperate. Her brown eyes looked up to see that Daryl was still staring down at her with an intensity that made her stomach twist.
“I need your help,” Arden placed her hands on the ground, pulling the gravel with her fingers and forming small mounds beneath her palms, “Okay? I said it, I need your fucking help because you’re the one who brought me here and I need to get back.”
“Okay,” Daryl bent down to pick up the crowbar, his eyes meeting Arden’s, “We’ll go tomorra’”
“No, we have to go now.”
“Look girlie I’m doin ya a favor meanin I call the shots ya hear?”
Arden’s eyes narrowed as she picked up a handful of dirt threw it through the fence, “Don’t call me ‘girlie’.”
“Don’t be throwin shit at me, and get the hell up already!”
“I’m trying!” All this yelling was just making it harder for Arden to catch her breath and with each failed attempt at standing her heart rate quickened and muscles began to stop responding. Arden repeatedly smacked her hands into the ground, cursing her weakness that was currently on display. “Get up,” she whispered, her eyes beginning to burn. Her teeth gritted together as she tugged on the fence with both hands, managing to lift her bottom up only to lose her grip and crash back down. “Fuck!” A tear slid from her eyes only to be quickly wiped away by her dust covered hand.
The crowbar hit the ground with a low thud as Daryl muttered a curse word. Arden’s head lifted as she watched Daryl walk towards a gap in the fence. “No,” the single word did nothing to stop Daryl as he moved towards her.
Daryl bent down next to Arden, one arm going under her legs while the other wrapped around her shoulders. “I said no!” Arden kicked her legs and scooted backwards out of Daryl’s grip, “I don’t want your help!”
A hardness washed over Daryl’s face as he stood up and stared down his nose at the sniveling female. “Fine,” he spat, his voice steady and menacing, “You think ya can do it by yoself then fine.”
Dust kicked up as Daryl turned and stormed off and left Arden with the groans of walkers to keep her company. Arden grabbed onto the fence, the metal digging into her skin and threatening to draw blood but with each attempt her body remained on the ground. With a loud sigh Arden fell back, her spine resting on the uncomfortable gravel and her eyes closing in reaction to the sun. Her hands raised and covered her eyes as she listened to the moans of the undead. “Tomorrow,” A smile came to her face as scrunched her nose in an attempt to hold back a sniffle, “I’ll find you tomorrow.”
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Author's Note: I was considering having a cute moment where Daryl carries Arden back to the prison and she's blushing and soft piano music plays in the background....but Arden so wouldn't let that happen plus it'd be more awkard than cute cause I fully believe that Daryl is an awkward cutie. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter- dedications to those who are wonderful enough to comment :)