CHAPTER EIGHTEEN,
stupid, reckless girl

BETH GREENE HESITANTLY placed a rock that was supposed to represent Otis's grace - but there was no body, just a pile of rocks that was supposed to be his memory. Nathan Barton would rather have that instead of memory, too.

"Blessed be God. Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,"

A hand grabbed his own, and he turned to see Samantha Walsh, but she wasn't looking at him - she was looking at the grave, the same one that the soldier refused to look at.

"Praise be to him, for the gift of our brother Otis,"

Nathan met the dark, unmistakable eyes of Shane Walsh. Brown clashed with grey, but they didn't make other colors but only subliminal messages.

It had been the same look he had been giving his partner in crime for hours since they returned, every time Nathan looked like he was about to crack. It's our secret, his warnings read, don't tell.

Nathan hated funerals since he was a child, and believe it or not, he went to a lot of them in his short life. Many people died in his family, too many for his young age to comprehend. He couldn't understand why death took away. And when he did, when it was only him, his parents and his little brother left in their family, he finally understood why - and he grown to have a bitter hating against funerals.

This one was different however, it made him feel uneasy. It was very uncommon for a murderer to attend his victim's burial.

The woman that Nathan made a widower was next. Wetness trailed down her face and made it flushed, causing the demon of guilt to start eating him from the inside to out. He might've looked clean on the outside, but within he was so dirty.

As Patricia placed a rock onto the pile with shaky hands, a large figure suddenly appeared behind her. He wore a bloodied hat, the flesh on his face hanging off and the insides of his stomach completely exposed, bites completely engraving what's left of his skin.

Otis.

Nathan's breath hitched, images flashing through his head. He could still hear the screams, the growls, that one single gunshot that made his blood go cold, and then the sound of flesh being ripped a part. All he saw was blood, too much of it, it spilling in front of him and making the walls start closing in.

His skin burned from where Otis touched him, his ears ringing from his screams.

Samantha noticed everything, and gripped his hand tighter in her own. This brought him back to reality and he glanced down at his best friend with the pretty green of her eyes. She grew a genuine smile, and for a second he felt warmth spread through his body.

"Praise be to him, for the gift of our brother Otis."

He felt secured.

The twenty year old went on her tippy toes and whispered, "You're really sweaty, sergeant dickhead."

Nathan forgot where he was for a moment, a grin breaking out on his face and a chuckle almost being pushed through his throat - but remembering where he was, he hurried to conceal it all, but the gratefulness for his best friend's existence still lingered.

Whenever he was in trouble, she was always there through thick and thin, and he loved her so much for that.

"For his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset,"

Nathan looked back at Shane. His eyes were clouded with thought, reminiscing of his sins. He wondered if he could see Otis too, if he could still hear his screams, if Shane couldn't sleep just like him.

"We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived, in your grace,"

He certainly didn't have peace in his last moments.

"Nate, will you speak for Otis?" Hershel requested.

The soldier had to hold back widened eyes. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, the flashes of those god forsaken images never stopping. Everyone stared at him, including Shane, who looked quite relieved he didn't need to speak. Nate felt like a caged animal at a zoo.

"I-I," He stammered, his eyes darting everywhere. He gulped down the saliva that built up in his mouth. "I am not in the right state, sir. Shane was more up close and personal, he probably will deliver better."

Shane glanced at him, the relief completely vanishing as all eyes were now on him. "I'm not good at it," Shane excused. "I'm sorry."

You weren't when you said it to Otis.

"You were one of the the last ones with him. You shared his final moments," Patricia sobbed, looking to Shane with teary eyes. "Please, I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning."

Shane couldn't refuse after this. Nathan watched as the man came up with the most bullshit of a story ever.

"We were about done," He started after a moment. "Almost out of ammo, we were down to pistols by then."

Nathan remembered the three of them counting their bullets. He had ran completely out, while Otis and Shane had a few left to spare.

Shane used his last on Otis.

"I was limping. It was bad - ankle all swollen up. Nate carried through though, he was the strongest of us three, never seen a man so determined even when death was reachin' right for us."

Some eyes glanced at the soldier. Nathan avoided their gazes.

"We've got to save the boy. See, that's what he said."

"I'm sorry." Shane said.

It was like Nathan was there again. He could still feel every singular emotion and pain he went through that night. But none of it was compared to what Otis had to endure.

"He gave me his backpack."

Shane grabbed the bag from Otis and tried to pull it away from the writhing man, but he was grabbed and pulled to the ground.

"He shoved us ahead. Run, he said. He said, I'll take the rear. I'll cover you both."

"Murderer!" Otis screamed, throwing a fist into Nathan's face. He fell back, the taste of metallic filling his mouth as blood oozed to his chin.

"And then we looked back..."

Otis was still very much alive as the dead ate him.

"If not for Otis, we'd never made it out alive."

They were less than human, perhaps more feral, fighting to survive the cruel circumstances they were placed into.

Shane had limped forward to the pile of rocks, placing one on top the grave. Nathan thought how Shane could do that, honor a man he mercilessly killed. The soldier had nerve speaking - he was doing the same exact thing.

"And that goes for Carl too. It was all Otis. He saved us." Shane finished, his eyes now boring into Nathan's

He recognized that look, it was the same look Shane carried before he shot down Otis. There was was this craziness within the darkness of his eyes, a ruthlessness to them. Except it wasn't as it was before, no hint of desperation.

It was the look of a victor.

Nathan wondered if he had the same look in his eyes, too, he wondered if people could see the fight behind their lies, the blood that stained their hands like paint.

But Dale Harvoth did - unknown to them, he saw all the exchanges.

"We did the right thing." Nathan said, and Shane glanced at him with familiarity. There was tension there, there actions creating a bond between the two that they never would've think it could exist before.

Shane was the one to break it first, now looking at the widower. "If any death ever had meaning, it was this." He said.

Shane had given her a false image of Otis, presenting his words as if he were gifting her. Otis died a hero, was her gift. But he didn't, he died alone and he died terrified and he died painfully.

Nathan didn't know what type of woman Patricia was. He knew she was a woman of the Lord, but he didn't know if she had any drop of vengeance in her blood.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

If Patricia did in fact ever find out the ugly truth, and she becomes scorned, Nathan would happily welcome the fury with open arms.

━━━━━

Samantha Walsh didn't know what she was looking for, but when she did she ran forward.

"Hey!" By the time she reached him there was sweat forming on her skin, but being a runner it didn't faze her the slightest. She could sense the rolling of his eyes.

Daryl Dixon turned around with his rough features twisting into obvious agitation, Samantha trying to restrain a smirk. He thought he could get rid of me so easily.

Upon noticing her pistol out he scowled, shaking his head. "Ain't no way you're comin'." Daryl refused, but she merely smiled.

"I'm going to help you find Sophia whether you like it or not," She retorted. "Plus, I can learn a few things from you. I suck ass at tracking-"

His glare made the words instantly stop in her throat. "Ain't got time to teach a little girl some magic tricks."

Samantha's temper became flamed, and she wanted to so badly correct him and his proper grammar but she knew that would be a big mistake.

So, she sucked it up.

"Me being me, I'm going to ignore everything you just said and pretend you agreed," She walked past him, stopping at the edge of the woods and looked over her shoulders. "You coming, Katniss?"

Daryl stared at her for a moment, eyes full of contemplation and very obvious annoyance. Finally, with a loud grunt he stalked past her into the trees. Samantha grinned like a mad woman, but quickly covered it up and followed him.

The silence of the walk would've provoked Samantha's sanity if it weren't for the crunching of the leaves beneath their feet. Daryl would stop every minute or so, checking their surrounding for any hints of the whereabouts of Sophia.

Daryl Dixon was really determined.

She's never seen him care so much about anyone in the group besides Merle - this was very new. Ever since Merle disappeared, Daryl has been showing a tiny bit more compassion. It was as if not being in Merle's shadow anymore changed him.

Samantha knew that he didn't want any friends despite it all, but just because he didn't want them - didn't mean he didn't need them. Being alone in this world was a scary, and possibly dangerous thing.

She had seen what loneliness does to people, like Edwin Jenner for example. He had been isolated for so long that when her group had found him he had grown insensitive, perhaps even a little unhinged. He wasn't a bad man, nor was he a saint either.

Samantha placed her pistol into her holster and pulled out her dagger, the sun shining off the blade and hitting her eyes.

"I've always wanted a sword," She started. "It's quicker, more efficient - more badass, kinda like King Arthur," The ebony haired girl glanced at the side of the hunter's face, her brows pulling together. "You know who he is, right? From Camelot," At his silence, Samantha let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my, god. You don't know what even Camelot is-"

"Shut up," Daryl's growl layered Samantha's own with harshness, and she obliged with flaming cheeks. She watched as he crouched down, gazing at something forward. Not that far up ahead seemed to be a rundown house, surrounded by overgrown grass and trees. It looked like it had been abandoned for years, way before the dead roamed the earth.

"You think Sophia is in there?" Samantha questioned, hopefulness dripping from her words.

Daryl simply grunted at her words, trying to make it obviously that he wasn't ecstatic that she accompanied him - but when that didn't work, anger roared from within him.

Stupid, reckless girl.

Those three words was everything Samantha Walsh was to him. She was completely stupid and utterly reckless, committing many things that got under his skin and made aggravation flutter with him.

He's never met someone so completely intolerable.

Despite that, she knew something that nobody else did. Ever since he had unintentionally exposed his harsh past that embedded the skin on his back like a branding, she completely forced herself into his life - and he hated that the most about her.

Daryl Dixon simply hated the way she looked at him, hated the way she did certain things, the way she exposed her secrets too and thought that would bring them closer when it only wanted him to avoid her more. He didn't want anyone on his ass because he works better when he was alone.

The shadow of the building loomed over them, the house reminding Daryl of his old home; rundown, masses of weeds and grass, no light or happiness within it.

Before he could say or do anything, Samantha suddenly kicked the door open with her gun drawn, a newfound determination in her movements. Daryl rolled his eyes, following her inside.

Stupid, reckless girl.

"Well, ain't this a horror movie." Came the mumble under her breath.

"Looks clear." Daryl said when he couldn't hear any movement or sounds of the dead, his crossbow raised just in case.

Samantha nodded, rubbing her head and looking around cautiously. "We should look around. I'll check upstairs."

If she expected a response, he disappointed her on that part. Daryl turned away from the reckless girl and continued his investigation.

After searching every room on the first floor, Daryl made his way into the kitchen, searching the room beyond that when suddenly, his nose picked up a smell. His brow rose, and he turned to the trash and found an opened container of sardines.

Daryl's heart leaped as he lifted the food to his nose, giving it a quick sniff.

It was fresh.

Sophia was here, it had to be her. Was she still here? Was she hiding?

Daryl saw a slightly ajar door, nothing but darkness from within. He felt his stomach churn with anticipation, his hopes going up. He raised his crossbow, taking slow, careful steps towards the closet before opening it - his hopes completely crashed down when he noticed there was nothing alive nor dangerous on the other side, just food and...

Daryl studied the makeshift bed. It was only big enough for someone short, like Sophia. If she had been here, where was she? Where was the little girl that got lost in the woods?

"Find anything?"

The redneck looked over his shoulder and caught Samantha's hopeful gaze. "She was here." Daryl announced.

Her mouth fell open in shock. "That means she couldn't have gone far, right?" She said. "Maybe Nate found something, he's out searching too."

At the mention of the soldier Daryl felt resentment. Nate was the reason why Sophia went missing, but also the reason why Carl was still alive. He managed to lose a kid and save another one, and because of that, he felt conflicted about Nate - especially after the Otis incident.

Daryl wasn't stupid. He knows what really happened unlike everyone else, it was all about observation. Who brings a dead man's gun back?

"Did she sleep in there?" Samantha asked, staring at the blankets in sadness. Daryl nodded, looking back into the closet.

He remembered his kitchen had a closet just like this. It had been his hiding spot on the nights his father would come home, his eyes bloodshot and full of drunken fury, smelling of alcohol and danger. The closet had been small, but Daryl had considered it his safe haven - his sanctuary.

Until his father had finally found him.

He knew Sophia had gone through the same bullshit he had. Daryl didn't know her personally, but he would see her at camp. She had this look of a lost girl with a broken childhood, something he was very familiar with. Every time she had a new visible bruise, he felt the strong urge to go beat the shit out of Ed, but Merle had told him to "mind your own damn business." And he did. Daryl regretted listening to his brother.

Through the window of the rundown house, he noted the sun had slightly begun to lower itself down from the sky. Their time had run out. "We need to head back."

Samantha grew a stubborn look. "But we have a lead, we can't stop now!" She argued.

Daryl didn't want to stop either, but he was smart. "We have more of a chance of findin' her in the light than the dark," He reasoned. "We got a lead, that's good enough."

Samantha opened her mouth to argue, but luckily she quickly closed it.

They both exited the house, heading back to the trail they came from when the brunette stopped in front of a large bush of flowers. Daryl furrowed his brows, recognizing them but the history was somewhere on the tip of his tongue. He knew those flowers.

Samantha was staring at them as if they were the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. "Thought I wouldn't see something so beautiful in an ugly world like this." She stated, caressing the white petals delicately.

That's when it clicked, and he stepped towards the bush. "Those are Cherokee Roses." Daryl informed, and Samantha looked up at him with a sparkle of curiosity in the green of her eyes.

"I've never heard of them."

He pulled one off, staring at the colors that had created history. "American soldiers were movin' Indians off their land on the Trail of Tears," Daryl started. "The Cherokee mothers were grievin' and cryin' so much 'cause they were losin' their little ones along the way from the exposure and the disease and starvation - a lot of them disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer; asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits. Give them strength, give them hope. The next day the rose started to grow right where the mothers' tears fell." He looked up and saw Samantha staring intently at him, a wide and pretty smile lifting her lips.

"That was poetic," She said, her smile never ceasing. "Maybe one will bloom for Merle."

Daryl was surprised at the chuckle that came out of his mouth. "Nah, I don't think there would be any flower bloomin' for Merle." He snorted.

Samantha giggled. "Merle ain't half bad," She stated, the way she said it confusing Daryl - as if she knew him. "I think Carol needs that, though. She needs that hope," Then she plunked the flower off the bush, her eyes softening. "And when we find that little girl, this one will be hers."

Daryl felt his mouth twitch up.

He was going to make sure to find Sophia. This world keeps hurting her, not giving her any chances. But he wanted to give her that chance.

Daryl knew Sam wanted to as well, and because of this, perhaps he felt some respect for the stupid, reckless girl.

━━━━━

The second Samantha Walsh came back, she set up her and her brother's camp. It had been a hard task, because Shane was always the one to set it up whenever they would go camping, but he was nowhere to be seen. So muttering curses at her dear, big brother, she managed to get it finished an hour later.

"Whoa," Samantha turned around and was met with the sheepish smile of Glenn Rhee. "That seemed fun."

She let out a huff of air. "How long have you been standing there?" She demanded, sweat beading her flushed skin. A blush crept to the Koreans cheeks, his silence confirming her thoughts."And you didn't think to help me?"

"I brought you a special delivery," He was swift to change the topic, Samantha being too worn out to bring it back. Glenn dug through his backpack, and pulled out an ancient looking black, bomber jacket that appeared to be leather. The sight of it made the woman's jaw drop. "Thought you would like it - me and Maggie went into town and I found it."

His friend's expression made Glenn feel accomplished, and watching a wide smile spread to her face made him mirror her own. "This is - oh, my god." She moaned after slipping the jacket on, the way insides fit her making her sigh in bliss. She was totally in love with it.

"Thank -" Her eyes caught something and made her cut herself off. Samantha glanced up at him, and then back at it, her sudden actions making his face twist up quizzically.

That's when it clicked.

No way She thought, feeling a smile cut into her cheeks.

A line of giggles fell from her lips.

Turning away, she grabbed her bag and she walked past him, bumping into his shoulder before announcing, "Your zipper is undone!"

She could hear the loud gasp that emitted from his lips and the stumbling of his body trying to fix it.

After Glenn's embarrassment, Samantha decided it was time to pay a visit to her godson. The last time he had seen him was when he was soaked in his own blood, and she needed to refresh her mind from that.

Samantha's feet padded on the floors of the Greene household, stopping at the familiar bedroom door she had been at the night before. Memories resurfaced and for a second, she could feel blood on her hands - but she quickly shook them away, entering the room.

Two pairs of bright blue eyes hit her.

"Sammy!" Carl Grimes said excitedly, his face breaking into a large smile. Samantha noticed the sheriff's hat on the top of his head and she instinctively glanced at Rick, the two sharing a knowing smile.

She sat at the chair next to the loving father. "Hey midget." Samantha said, the grin hurting her cheeks as she carefully wrapped her arms around him and he returned it was a tight squeeze as if he had missed his godmother so much.

"Look what dad gave me." Carl said with a tipping of the hat, the two adults chuckling.

"Looks like we got a new sheriff in town," Samantha chortled. "Can I be your deputy?"

Carl nodded eagerly, and Rick put on a face of mock hurt before the smile went back on his face. He looked so happy that his son was awake and alive, and it was honestly relieving. He was a mess and probably hasn't gotten sleep since before the highway.

That's when Samantha remembered something, and she felt the smile increase if possible. "I got a present for you." She dug through her backpack and pulled out the bag of Doritos, placing it on the bed.

She expected Carl to instantly snatch it but he didn't, he just stared at it.

"I...I don't want it." He stammered.

Rick frowned. "Why?"

"Because Sophia might be hungry when she gets back, I don't want to be greedy." Carl explained with a sad expression.

The adults shared a look, thinking the same think that caused guilt to twist their features, knowing that Sophia was still out there, somewhere. But Samantha and Daryl had a lead. She was still alive. That was hope right there.

"And we'll give it to her when she gets back," Rick said with a forced smile. "Just share."

"I'll share everything with her. Promise!" The smile was back on his face. "Also, where's Nate? I wanted to tell him that he was right about being shot, it hurts a lot."

"Welcome to the club." Rick chuckled.

There was a knock at the door, and they turned in time to see Lori at the entrance. She smiled at her husband and child lovingly, but something was off. Samantha didn't know if she was the only one that noticed, it was the look that twitched in her eyes.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" Lori asked directly to Samantha, causing the young woman's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. She glanced at Rick and Carl.

"I'll watch the little sheriff until you get back." Rick said assuringly, gesturing for Samantha to go with her.

Samantha sent one last smile to her godson and followed Lori down the hall, and out the house. They were a little away from the house when she finally stopped and turned to her. The calm expression she once had crumbled, panic taking over her features and her wide eyes welling up with tears.

At first, Samantha didn't know what to do. It had been so long since they had spoken - why now?
"Lori, what's wrong?" She questioned, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I-I don't know what to do," She whispered frantically, looking everywhere to make sure nobody was around. "You're the only one I can trust not to tell, and I'm sorry we haven't spoke much but-"

"Relax, Lori," Samantha interjected gently, giving her an assuring smile. "We're still family no matter what. What's wrong?"

Instead of speaking, she pulled out something from the pocket of her jeans.

Samantha couldn't see what it but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness the smile completely dropped from her face.

With eyes going as wide as saucers, her own mouth going dry and mirroring Lori's expression, she stared up at her.

Lori Grimes was pregnant.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟnote

as much as i hated the affair between shane and lori we got JUDITH

SO

words ; 4267
edited ; ✔️