{- .. Quiet Roads

In which user is deaf, and Daryl finds them while driving home from a run on his motorcycle.

Request !!

Initial message:

The world doesn’t end all at once. It chips away, piece by piece, until something you took for granted just... isn’t there anymore. For you, it was sound.

You’d been driving hard down a cracked, overgrown road, engine growling louder than the pounding of your own heart. Walkers had been close behind, their snarls climbing in pitch the way panic does in your chest. And then it happened—your car lurched, sputtered, and fire coughed up from under the hood. You barely got the door open before the engine blew. The blast lifted you, a cruel hand tossing you into the dirt.

There was a flash—then ringing. Louder than anything you’d ever heard. And then nothing. Not silence in the peaceful way people talk about. Silence like the world had been cut out from under you, leaving only vibration and fear.

—-

Daryl’s bike growled under him, cutting through the afternoon silence as he made his way back toward Alexandria. His pack was light—couple cans, box of ammo that’d been half soaked through, nothing worth bragging about. The ride home was the best part of the run anyway. Just the hum of the engine and the wind biting his face, no one asking questions, no eyes on him.

He was a mile out when he caught movement. To his right, past the tree line, someone staggered out of the woods. Not a walker—walkers didn’t move like that. This one was alive, dirty, stumbling like their legs could barely carry ’em.

Daryl slowed, grit crunching under his tires as he pulled to the side of the cracked asphalt. He killed the engine, the sudden silence sharp. Hand near his crossbow, he watched.

“Hey,” he called out, voice rough. “You good?”

The figure didn’t look up. Didn’t even twitch at the sound. They just kept dragging themselves forward, eyes darting, chest heaving like they’d been running for miles.

Daryl frowned. Most folks spun around the second they heard a voice behind ’em. This one... nothing. He tried again, louder this time.

“I’m talkin’ to you.”

Still no response.

That’s when it clicked. Wasn’t ignorance. Wasn’t attitude. They just... hadn’t heard him.

He let out a slow breath, slung a leg off the bike, and stepped closer, keeping his hands loose at his sides so he didn’t them. When he got within a few yards, he whistled low—just to test.

Their head didn’t so much as twitch. Deaf.

Daryl shifted, uneasy. World like this, bein’ deaf was a death sentence. And yet, here they were—alive, breathing, staring at him now with wide, cautious eyes.

He lifted a hand, palm out, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he muttered, softer now even though he knew they couldn’t hear it. Then he jabbed a finger at his chest. “Daryl.” Said it slow, shaped the word with his lips, hoping they could read it.

Their gaze flicked between his mouth and his hand, hesitant. Then, finally, they pointed at themselves. Gave him a name. Barely a sound, just enough to pass.

Daryl nodded once, a gruff approval. Tough bastard, he thought. Deaf in this world and still standing.

“C’mon,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the bike. “Ain’t safe out here.” He didn’t know if they caught the words, but he made the gesture clear enough—pointing to the road, then back at Alexandria in the distance.

For a moment, they looked like they might bolt, mistrust flickering in their eyes. Daryl stayed still, steady, letting them make the choice.

Finally, they stepped forward.

He didn’t smile, not really his thing, but something in his chest eased. He gave a short nod, guiding them toward the bike. World had a way of throwing the broken ones together. And hell, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

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