It's not easy to get the visor off. The plastic, or whatever it's made of is sturdy. It's meant to block out all the horrors that space could inflict upon a person. And judging by the amount of trouble Daryl's having, they don't have a lot of time. She grits her teeth as she pulls and pulls and pulls until the thing snaps clean off. The hard edge of it scrapes against the skin of her hands, but that can't be helped.

She snaps the piece against her knee into two jagged pieces, ignoring the smaller bits that go splintering off. She hands him one and grips the other tight, taking a deep breath and forcing down the spike of nervousness that she refuses to show him.

They don't know what this thing is, or what it can do, or how to kill it. But they don't exactly have an abundance of choices here.

"Okay. Open it up, whenever you're ready."

Killing walkers has imparted a great lesson on them: when in doubt, always go for the head. It tends to work on most creatures.