Daryl

Daryl Dixon plodded sullenly through the woods. He was rarely caught unaware by weather but the storm had come up suddenly in late afternoon while he was dealing with a bunch of walkers. Not a herd but enough that he couldn't handle all of them so he ran away to live and fight another day. He'd already gone further than he expected while hunting. Evading the walkers took him in the wrong direction and it was full dark now. There was moonlight but clouds made it patchy and Daryl didn't want to be out here at night with walkers in the area. He was closer to Granddaddy's old shack than to the small house near Benford that he shared with his brother. Merle would be a little worried but not much. Both men were seasoned hunters and woodsmen and each had practice dealing with turned people in the weeks since the dead started walking. They'd even hidden some supplies at the shack to use in an emergency and this qualified.

As he approached a clearing the clouds passed and Daryl was startled to see two figures facing each other with swords upraised. He stayed in the tree line, blinking to correct his vision but the scene remained the same. A walker and a guy with a sword would make sense in this new world because the living had to use any weapon that came to hand. The moonlight was dim but Daryl could see that one man was bigger and bulkier and older than the other who appeared to be a kid. If this was a real fight, it didn't look fair and Daryl was about to step forward when both figures turned to him. The kid looked foreign.

"No," the kid yelled. "Get away from here!"

"This isn't your fight," the man said. "But I'll deal with you in a few minutes if you're still around."

Neither of them welcomed interference but Daryl wasn't running off like he had from the walkers. Maybe a witness would be needed. If this was even real. Daryl wondered if he hit his head when he tripped and fell a quarter mile back. Was this some hallucination? Was he still laying on the ground stunned? He melted into the darkness and circled the clearing until he found a vantage point.

The fighters had resumed their stance. The man said, "In the End, there can be only one."

The kid didn't seem fazed by these ominous words. He grinned and replied, "And I'm it!"

The fight commenced. These guys weren't messing around. The rain had slackened to a drizzle but the clearing was already wet and soon became slick as the mud churned. There were occasional sparks when the blades collided. The man might be bigger and stronger but the kid was fast and smart in his moves. Daryl didn't know anything about sword fighting but he could tell this was a helluva fight. Still, he hoped it was a dream and he woke up before somebody got hurt.

The man made a lucky slash and Daryl's breath caught because the kid was going to lose and for some reason Daryl was on his side even though they were strangers. But the kid's blade deflected the man's thrust and moved smoothly straight on to his heart and without knowing exactly what happened Daryl was suddenly aware that the kid had set it up like playing chess several moves in advance.

The man dropped to his knees and Daryl was about to come forward when things got really weird. The kid swung and sliced through the man's neck. His head rolled, lightning flashed and fire erupted from the neck before the body toppled. The kid fell to his knees, arms down, head back, eyes closed. He looked like he was coming real hard after a long dry spell. Daryl was uncomfortably aroused just watching him.

Finally the kid leaned forward with his head down for a moment before taking a deep breath and getting to his feet. He picked up both swords. "I know you're still there," he called out.

Daryl entered the clearing, crossbow at the ready with a bolt loaded. "What the hell just happened?"

"You won't need that," the kid said with a smile as he nodded at the crossbow. Daryl had to stop himself smiling back but he didn't lower the crossbow.

"Seriously, I'm not going to take your head. Or hurt you at all," he added when Daryl looked skeptical.

"You gonna explain what's going on?"

"I'll have to since you saw this. I'm camped at a quarry with other survivors. They can't know about this. The walkers are enough for them to deal with. You're welcome to join us and we'll find a place to talk."

Daryl studied the kid and made up his mind. "I live pretty near but it's a long way to go tonight and there's a shack closer. We can stay there."

The kid nodded. "Mutual trust, I like it. Lead on. By the way, I'm Glenn Rhee."

"Daryl Dixon."

The rain had started again and clouds were sailing around but the moon was visible often enough for Daryl to keep his sense of direction. Ten minutes through the trees brought them to the shack. The door wasn't locked. The shack was off the beaten track and the brothers had agreed trying to make it secure would result in more damage if somebody found it and broke in. Daryl was cautious entering in case it was occupied but it was empty. If somebody was using it they'd probably bolt the door when they were inside. There was no evidence that anybody had been there since the last time Daryl had checked. He bolted the door, moved the bed in the corner, pried up the floorboards and fished out the makings for a fire.

Daryl got the fire going and went outside. There was firewood under a tarp around back. The kid followed and they each carried in a couple of split logs. Daryl dug out two pairs of pants and two flannel shirts. He took Merle's set and threw his own to the kid. Merle's clothes would be a little big on Daryl and Daryl's would be a little big on the kid but at least they'd both be dry. The kid began stripping unselfconsciously so Daryl did the same. Just like a locker room. No big deal. They hung up their clothes to dry.

Daryl started coffee in an old pan that could be hung over the fire. He got out jerky and a jar of home-canned peaches. The kid's eyes widened with appreciation.

"This looks great. We're running out of food at the quarry. I don't have anything to contribute."

"I provide supper, you provide the entertainment later." Daryl meant an explanation but in his mind it sounded a little suggestive.

They ate in silence. Daryl wouldn't let himself think of the kid as Glenn yet. He was still wary and sizing him up. He didn't want to admit he liked what he saw. A lot. He wasn't really a kid, probably in his twenties, but he seemed young to Daryl. He'd been wearing jeans and a tee shirt. His short black hair was almost dry and it looked smooth and shiny. His eyes tilted. Chinese or maybe a Japanese ninja. Was that what the fight was about? Some family blood feud? Cutting off the guy's head was extreme. Daryl was already rethinking that fire from the neck. Something to do with storm lightning and static electricity. Daryl hadn't thought he had such an active imagination.

When they finished eating Daryl said, "Start talking."

The kid sighed. "You aren't going to believe this at first but I can prove it so please listen with an open mind. I'm an Immortal and I'm not the only one."

Daryl wasn't going to get a rational explanation after all. He wanted to scoff and dismiss the kid as having gone crazy. He wouldn't be the first to do so in this new world. But the kid wasn't scared or anxious or even nervous. He seemed calm and sane. But he would, wouldn't he? Might as well see how far the kid would take this.

"Keep going."

"Accepting already," the kid said approvingly. "Or at least reserving judgment. Maybe that's a side effect of the dead walking. Survivors adapt to new circumstances more easily."

"If that's all you got, just say so. Because if you're hoping I'll get bored and fall asleep and you don't have to explain, not gonna happen."

"That's not it! I talk too much and get off the subject. Don't you have any faults? Besides, I haven't told the story for a long time and it's hard to get started."

"How long since you told the story?"

"Let's see, the stock market had crashed …"

Daryl snorted. "That don't narrow it down much. Economy has been tanking regular for years. You mean after 9/11?"

"I meant the one in 1929. But World War II hadn't started yet so it was the early '30s. Great Depression."

The kid had lost it. Reality was too much for him and his mind folded. But Daryl decided to play along for awhile.

"How old are you?"

"Um, 250ish. I was 24 when I died the First Death."

"First Death?"

"Yes. I'm telling this badly. Let me start over. Some people are Immortals but we don't know it until we die. Because we don't really die. We wake up."

"Yeah, that's been happening a lot lately."

"I'm not a walker! Immortals have been around forever."

"So walkers are some kind of mutant immortal? What went wrong?"

"I understand why it would be confusing but walkers and Immortals are not the same. Immortals can only be killed by beheading. Walkers have to be stabbed in the brain. And Immortals don't lurch around growling and trying to eat people. We're human except we can't die unless our head is cut off."

Daryl just stared at the kid. This had gone far enough.

The kid caught on. "You think I'm crazy. What about what you saw in the clearing?"

"You said I wouldn't believe you. What's your proof?"

"Kill me and I'll wake up."

"Sure. And then you'll lurch around and growl and try to eat me."

"Immortals aren't affected by this walker thing. I'll come back the same as I am now."

"I'm not going to kill you."

The kid sighed. "I don't blame you. Do you have a gun?"

Daryl nodded. A crossbow used to be enough but now he carried a gun, too. Defense against human predators as well as walkers.

The kid held out his hand. "I'll do it. It's not the first time and probably won't be the last."

Daryl shook his head. He wasn't handing over a loaded weapon to a kid who might kill Daryl or himself. Maybe he could get the kid to admit his story didn't make sense.

"Show me the other bullet holes when you killed yourself."

"I don't have any. My First Death was by drowning and after that everything heals without a scar."

"Convenient. So you don't have proof."

"You're killing me here, Daryl. Or rather, you're not killing me. I don't like this option but I'm going to have to fall on my sword."

In a move too quick to follow the kid picked up his sword by the blade because it would be too long to hold the handle and stabbed himself in the heart.

"No!" Daryl jumped up and reached the kid in time to catch his falling body with the sword sticking out of his chest like a needle in a pin cushion.

The kid's eyes were on him. "It's all right," he gasped before his eyes closed and his neck went limp, head lolling on Daryl's arm.

Daryl lowered him to the floor, wishing the kid hadn't been a head case. Daryl's shirt, worn by the kid, was darkening with blood. Daryl lifted it, hoping it had been a trick sword and fake blood even though there was no reason for an elaborate setup like that. But the sword was planted firmly in the kid's chest. Any damage was already done so Daryl wiggled it, seeing splintered rib bone and heart muscle. He sat back on his heels, horrified.

Then the sword began to move and Daryl wasn't touching it. It had sunk in four or five inches but now an inch of bloody blade had emerged. The kid's eyes opened. He groaned and lifted both hands to pull the sword out. The bleeding had stopped and Daryl got a glimpse of healthy pink heart muscle before it was covered by an unbroken rib. Then the entry point closed and Glenn took a deep breath.

"Are you satisfied?" he demanded.

Daryl nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Is there any more coffee?"

Daryl nodded again, still processing what he had seen.

"Please, let me get it," Glenn said sarcastically. "It's no bother."

Daryl moved then before Glenn could get up. He filled their mugs and held out a hand to help Glenn up. He realized he was thinking of the kid as Glenn now that he knew he wasn't crazy or a liar.

"Thanks." Glenn grinned. "Sorry about that. I forget what a shock it is the first time. You've actually handled it very well."

They sat down on the plain wooden chairs at the slightly rickety table. Daryl hadn't said a word yet.

"Questions?" Glenn asked.

"Why did you tell me? You could have spun a story for what happened in the clearing. By the time we got here I was second guessing what I saw. I would have believed about anything except the truth. You could have left and I'd never see you again. You wouldn't have had to do that to yourself. So why tell me?"

Glenn smiled – a friendly, sympathetic smile – and met Daryl's eyes squarely. "I think you suspect by now. You need to learn these things, Daryl. Because you're like me."