Daryl never noticed the Governor approaching him from behind. He buried his face and sobbed uncontrollably into his dead brother’s chest.
“Looks like it’s a two-for-one special! You pathetic piece of shit!” With that, the Governor fired a round point-blank into Daryl’s back, waited a moment, and fired again. Daryl lay motionless, silent.
“All too easy,” the Governor quipped.
He put away his magnum, and pulled out a bowie knife, admiring his reflection on the shiny blade. “Damn. I’m one handsome son of a bitch….”
Placing a boot on Daryl’s back and kneeling over his lifeless corpse, he grabbed his hair with one hand and held the knife to his throat with the other, waiting for Daryl to turn.
Within a minute, a low growl escaped his reanimated lips, and the Governor quickly began cutting through the connective tissue and bone of his neck.
“Beautiful. Couldn’t think of a better way to start my new collection.”
The Governor stuffed the head into his black leather bag and jumped into his jeep.
Zombie-head Darryl bounced around in the dark confines of the leather bag as the jeep continued along a bumpy path. A sudden stop propelled him out and over the windshield, rolling several hundred feet before stopping in front of a curious horse.
The horse was a thoroughbred, having escaped a local farm and still in splendid condition. It seemed befuddled by the animated head.
As the Governor jumped out of the jeep and started towards it, the horse grabbed zombie-head Daryl’s hair in its mouth, with Daryl dangling but secure, and galloped off into the forest.
At the prison, Carol paced the grounds religiously. “We’ve gotta go after him, Rick. You know we have to!”
Rick stared out at the yard, watching the walkers groan and stumble over each other, hoping for an easy meal.
“I’ll grab my gear, Carol. It’ll just be you and me. We can’t risk anyone else.”
Carol grabbed a pistol and a shotgun, and several rounds for each. Rick loaded up supplies in a satchel and the two left on their mission.
A trail of dust kicked up as the weathered sedan made its way along a field. “Rick, Rick! Look over there!”
Across the way, they saw the thoroughbred with Daryl’s head dangling from its mouth. Rick parked the car and they both jumped out and ran to the horse.
Carol burst into tears. “Oh Daryl. No! No! No!” She pulled the head from the horse’s mouth.
Zombie-head Daryl snarled and chomped its teeth. Carol kissed its forehead. “I don’t care if you’re a zombie head, Daryl, I won’t leave you!”
“Watch out!” Rick warned, “We’ve got walkers!”
About a dozen walkers emerged from the trees. Carol gently set zombie-head Daryl on the grass and grabbed her shotgun. Rick and Carol quickly dispatched several rounds and knocked off six of them.
“Rick, look!” Carol pointed at zombie-head Daryl, who had rolled into the midst of a group of four walkers, and proceeded to bite and chomp at their feet.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Rick whispered. “He’s protecting us!”
Tears began flowing down Carol’s face. “Oh my god!”
The pair quickly eliminated the remaining walkers before gathering zombie-head Daryl and tethering him onto the back of the horse.
“Okay,” Rick said, finishing up the improvised saddle to which zombie-head Daryl was attached, “I guess we should start heading back. You take the car, I’ll stay with Daryl and the horse.”
Carol couldn’t stop herself from crying and caressing Daryl’s hair. “Daryl, honey, I know you’re still in there, somewhere. The way you protected us….”
Suddenly, the horse bolted off into the distance, before either two could stop it.
Rick held Carol for a moment and calmed her, before the two got back into the car and headed back to the prison.
Zombie-head Daryl and his horse were on a mission. They searched the area for days, trying to catch the scent of the Governor. But it wasn’t long before the Governor found them first, along a dirt road several miles away.
“There you are you miserable son of a bitch!” The Governor grabbed his knife and marched over toward the pair. But the Governor didn’t realize one very important detail. Zombie-head Daryl had turned the horse into a zombie as well, and the Governor was about to learn that zombie horses are a terror straight from his worse zombie nightmare!
The zombie-horse reared up and charged the Governor, knocking him down face-first and stomping on his head, biting and ripping his flesh with its teeth. Zombie-head Daryl surveyed the flattened head of the Governor and grinned. He mouthed some words, flashing a wide rotting-teeth grin.
Thus was the end of the Governor.
The zombie horse let out a snarling grow of a neigh, reared up on its hind legs, and galloped off, as the pair rode into the sunset, becoming a small shadow, and then a dot, before vanishing into the evening.
The legend of the Zombie-Head Horseman was born!