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The Darkest Storm

Atlanta Hills

Darcy finds herself locked and alone in a room of an abandoned warehouse. Filled with dizziness and growing a slightly dull headache, she flickers her eyes open only to notice the small strands of light creeping their way through the loose stitches of the brown coffee bag she wares over her head.

Should’ve said no. She leans her head back, reminding herself she has a rather laughable habit of getting herself into bad situations.

Sitting tilted on a worn out wooden chair, she shifts her wrists slightly, taking in the fact they are tied within a rope on her lap. She has been out for hours and the skin underneath the prickly strands are almost rubbed raw because of how tightly she’s bound.

Faint voices bring her out of her thoughts, snapping her body upright and un-moving as she allows only the shaking and shallow breaths emerge from her nose. Darcy has a slight fear of suffocation, and the tape over her mouth was not helping in the least bit.

The doors in front of her slam open, ricocheting off the walls as footsteps march over to her. Two men roughly grab her by her shoulders and arms, pulling her up to her feet as she protests in muffled yelps.

Darcy stumbles as she starts to oblige to where they are leading her. Fighting isn’t going to solve her current predicament; it’s too risky and too dangerous since she’s alone without any knowledge of where exactly she is.

She hears two metal doors open slowly with a painful creak, and the scent of fresh air and a cool late afternoon breeze reaches her body in a fearful delight as she’s continued being dragged along the hard pebble path.

Don’t feed me to them. She prays.

Darcy is then roughly thrown onto the ground and positioned on her knees. Silence surrounded her and as she felt the hands from her shoulders loosen and disappear altogether, she lets out a slight whimper in fear that they’ve left her out in the open.

Her heartbeat begins to ring in her ears and she frantically tries to intake her amount of breathe. It suddenly occurs to her that she is at the complete mercy of these men. Her thoughts taunt her, creeping and presenting themselves to her like thick poison suffocating her mind. She doesn’t want to die here, not now, not alone.

Starting to panic, her mind and heart instantly calms when the bag is removed from her head. Staring through the strands of her hair that cover her face, she sighs a heavy sigh of relief to see the two men she almost abandoned back at the camp.

Rick and Daryl stared down at Darcy with their guns raised at the dozen of armed men surrounding her. They notice the bruising on her cheekbone, the exhausted expression, and her white knuckles from her squeezing to relieve the pain on her wrists.

Daryl steps forward with his eye in-line with the arrow towards the (surprisingly short) man in front of the group and growls. “Wha’d you do to her?”

One of them reacts, pulling out a pistol and pointing it at Darcy. “Came as she is bro.” The thick Mexican accent states calmly.

Daryl shuffles in his stance while gritting his teeth and shooting glances between Darcy and the man in front of him. Darcy drops her head from a settlement of emotions and her eyes instinctively narrow to her right at the man standing beside her. He has his hands on his gun lying in his holster and a knife sticking out of his boot.

Also catching her eye was a small figure of T-Dog on a rooftop, sniper rifle aimed and ready for any sign. Her survival instincts creep upon her, glancing back up at the man to make sure he wasn’t paying attention. Her fingertips twitch deciding whether or not to take her chance.

Darcy’s eyes shoot to Daryl’s for confirmation, but he stakes his head with a firm ‘no.’

“I see two options.” The man says. “You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or, you come back locked and loaded, we’ll see which side spills more blood.”

The unfamiliar group doesn’t hesitate in backing away, attempting to get an intimidated glance from the two men. Darcy faces the ground, still trying to steady her breathing. The rough hands grab at her once again, pulling her up to her feet and back inside. All the while, she keeps eye contact with Daryl as she watches him grow smaller and smaller in front of her.

A heedful nod from him barely catches her eye as the bag is once again placed over her sight. She is just able to calm herself before something hard jabs into nock between her neck and shoulder, knocking her out cold.

-

The first thing Darcy realizes when she comes to is a very faint sound. At first, she thinks its water. It sounds like a fast drip…tap-tap-tap…intensifying her thirst where her throat croaks in its dryness.

The tap becomes clearer, and she suddenly becomes aware of two other sounds, the pounding of her headache…how she was going to get rid of that she’ll never know…and the ever-present voices of the men who’ve kidnapped her.

“Cierra la puerta.” Close the door.

Her body is aching, burning. She can’t speak and she can barely see. She hears the sound of rattling, like someone shaking a bottle. Footsteps come to her side and a hand pries her jaw open. Two tablets are placed on her tongue, the bitter taste of whatever medicine they are giving her makes her want to spit them out.

“Take these.” The voice tells her, bringing up a water bottle to her lips and helping her swallow the pills. “Ibuprofen. To help with the pain.”

Darcy clenches her hands into fists when she feels the familiar ropes tying her down to another wooden chair. Her vision becomes less of a blur and more focused as she blinks hard. She strains her eyes…squinting. She’s in a different room than when they first brought her here. This is more like an emptied janitorial closet.

A man, to whom she recognizes as the one who brought her out to the courtyard in front of Daryl and Rick, sits opposite of her. He rubs his forehead and his hands together, adverting her strong gaze as if he’s not sure where he’s going with any of what’s happened.

“Where’s Glenn?” Her voice is hoarse. The little amount of water for the pills did nothing to quench her thirst.

“Safe.” Guillermo says, finally looking up at her.

She scoffs, “You call this safe?”

“A precaution.” He says. “Just business.”

“Business.” She raises her brows, unimpressed.

“Fine. Appearances.” He smiles grimly. “My people got attacked and your men show up with Miguel hostage.”

“I have no part in that.” Darcy grits her teeth. “And your men attacked us first.”

“And still, your people made it out with our guns.”

“Is that really what this is all about?” Darcy asks.

Guillermo leans over and rests his elbows on his knees. “You seen it out there lately?”

She narrows her eyes to slits. “Better than you ever will.”

He talks as he sits back, “Then I’m not sure how you’ve missed the memo.”

“Enlighten me.” Darcy closes her eyes for a moment.

“The people we’ve encountered since things fell apart, the worst kind – plunderers, the kind that take by force.”

She shakes her head. “That’s now who we are, or ever will be.” We.

“How am I to know?” He retorts.

“Because I’ve seen it. I left it.” She tells him. “Those kinds of people…they wouldn’t care if Glenn and I lived or if we died. So long as they have what they need. And they certainly wouldn’t go out of their way to keep a hostage.”

He rubs his face. “Doesn’t matter now. I have to protect these people, the old and sick. They look to me for answers, protection.”

“That’s not my problem.” Her eyes follow his as he stands in front of her now.

“And hopefully it never will be.” Guillermo sighs as the door opens behind him.

A pudgy man pokes his head into view, “Están aquí.” They’re here.

Guillermo nods. “Cortar su suelta.” He motions to Darcy.

“What’s happening?” Darcy asks once the binds are cut loose and she’s free to stand.

“Your friends are here.” He nods. “This is Vato. He’ll be just on the other side of this door.” He points.

“What about Glenn?” Darcy implores.

“Already told you, he’s safe.” Guillermo turns to face her on the other side of the doorway, “No offense señorita, but there’s a higher risk letting you out than him. Vato told me what happened in the alleyway. I’m no idiota.”

-

Darcy isn’t exactly sure how much time has passed from when Guillermo willingly locked her inside the closet and when she decides now is the best time to make use of her memorizing the entire movie of Footloose.

It is just when she gets to her favorite scene she hears heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. She stands up in the small room with her breath suddenly rising from what could be waiting for her on the other side when it opens rather hastily.

Relieved to see no one other than Daryl standing with his hand on the doorknob, Darcy walks over without hesitation and throws her arms around his neck. She feels him instantly freeze, his hands barely touching her waist from where they were originally placed and hears him try and clear his throat.

Avoiding the situation, Daryl says, “Dropped these.”

Darcy pulls back pleased to see that he carries her bow and quiver. “Thank you.” She takes them and wraps them around her shoulders.

“Ya alright?” He asks.

Darcy hasn’t stopped tending to her wrists, “A bit sore, but I’m fine.” She nods.

He returns the small gesture, but quickly remembers something that’s been bothering him for the past few hours when he looks at her bow.

“Who was he?” Daryl asks suddenly. “Just someone ya took it from?”

Darcy blinks in confusion, “What?” He points lazily with his finger towards her bow and picks at the skin around his nails.

Etched above the leather grip, the name “Blake” is written in thin, curving letters. Daryl watches as she lowers her gaze to her own hands, suddenly intrigued by a birthmark over her right hand’s thumb.

She forces a smile, “Family name.”

Daryl squints in question, “Said your name is Shaw.”

“It is.” She implores. “Blake’s my mother’s side.”

For a long time Daryl thought that was her brother’s name, or maybe her father’s. The occasional idea that it could belong to a friend or lover did strike him as well, but for whatever reason Daryl couldn’t figure out, it irked him to even think she was already someone else’s.

“What happened to ‘em?” He asks quietly, bringing his bottom lip inside his mouth to nervously bite on the skin.

She shrugs and crosses her arms, “Same as your brother. They’re just –“ Darcy faces him, “-gone.”

“Hey, you two!” T-Dog calls from the other end of the hall and waves at them with his hand. “We’re headin’ out. Let’s go!”

-

“Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat.” Glenn jokes, easing the tensions of the group as they trek through the outer gates of the city and make their way back to the van.

“Don’t tell anybody.” Rick smiles.

Daryl stomps with his bow resting on his shoulder, “You’ve given away half our guns and ammo.”

“Not nearly half.” Rick retorts.

“For what?” Daryl asks. “Seriously, how long you think they got?”

“How long do any of us?” Darcy speaks up, squinting her eyes at the setting sun. Coming around their last corner, their eyes widen and their jaws drop at they stare at an unusual blankness before them.

“Oh my God.” Glenn gasped.

“Where the hell’s our van?” Daryl asks.

“We left it right there who would take it?” Glenn panics.

Rick shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips in frustration. “Merle.”

Daryl comes to a disturbing realization, “He’s gonna be taken some vengeance back to camp.”

“We have to get moving,” Darcy steps forward. “We won’t make it back in time for any daylight and I’m not getting stuck out here tripping over ourselves trying to find the way.”

“She’s right, we can’t be followin’ the trail when it’s dark. We have to go.” Daryl says, walking away with her as the rest of the group follows suit.

“We stay close.”

-

Heat rises to Darcy’s cheeks with every step she takes. They pant, out of breath and quiet frankly out of energy. The darkness surrounded them from the hour it took them to gather their remaining supplies and head back to camp. The only thing on their minds: a well deserved meal and some sleep.

“Hold up!” T-Dog calls out. He stops and bends himself over to rest his hands on his knees. “I gotta stop.”

Rick looks up, also trying to catch his breath. “There’s the fire. We can walk from here.”

“We ain’t got no time if he’s up there!” Daryl yells.

Darcy is bent over as well in the same stance as T-Dog. Sweat covers her body and her shirt uncomfortably sticks to her skin. She wonders how the hell she’ll make it through the impending doom of the world when she can’t even bare the heat.

“We’ve been at it for miles. We’re running ourselves ragged.” Glenn responds, hands on his hips and head bent towards the sky.

“C’mon.” Rick motions towards the crackles of the embers less than a quarter mile away. “We’re almost there.”

Darcy sighs in relief and readjusts her bow across her shoulder. Putting a hand on T-Dog’s shoulder, she motions her head towards the others who’ve started moving. He nods in understanding with a heavy breath and stands up straight before walking alongside her. As they move, Darcy’s eyes seize Daryl’s as he watches her with curiosity.

Then without warning, they hear in the distance the faint sounds of erratic rustles amongst the leaves, along with the scent of familiar death coming in from the breeze ahead of them that was enough to make their blood run cold. A paralyzing scream erupts from the fire, and soon, the entire world seems to spin out of control.

A noiseless whisper emits from Rick’s throat, “Oh my God.”

At that moment, Darcy would have liked to have been able to say that this was all some dream or rather, a horrific nightmare that she’s yet to wake up from. This, however, is blatantly and painfully untrue.

The five break through the clearing and see in front of them the same images from the first news castings. The dead invading, rising up to eat the living. The sheer torment evident on all of their faces is disconcerting to say the least, and Darcy is once again faced with the foreboding realization that her subtle game of unintentional group-jumping might not have been the best played against such a brazen pack of real-life monsters.

Darcy reaches over her shoulder to feel her fingertips graze the feathers of her arrows and in a moments time that has passed, begins firing at the rotten bodies inundating her campsite.

An acrid smoke fills the air surrounding the bivouac. Guns are blasting and people are continuing to scream and flee the outstretched hands lunging towards them. After about a minute, Darcy’s senses begin to vibrate from the amount of chaos that consumes her.

A hand claws into her shoulder but doesn’t break the skin. She falls forward and impacts with the hard-packed earth knocking the wind out of her. She rolls on her side to look down at whoever is now pulling at her feet, but the sight of a biter being the source makes her react and kick its jaw back into its throat.

Her hair falls into her face and Darcy ignores the sweat dripping from her forehead. She needs her bow and it’s only a mere foot or two laying directly in front of her. Digging her fingers into the dirt she pulls her self forward but making little distance with the walker regaining its hold on her boot.

With her right arm she reaches out all the way to the tips of her fingers, feeling just outside her grasp the leather of her bow-grip. An odd sort of a whimper from the struggle escapes her lips as she bites down and forces herself to stretch farther.

Just as she feels the walker clasp onto her leg and begin its climb to her throat, Darcy is able to roll onto her back with her bow locked in her grasp and fly an arrow directly into its left eye socket, where the eye itself already seemed to be missing.

It stops moving on top of her and she realizes that her surroundings are a lot quieter than before. Sensing the fight is over, she rests her head back into the dirt with her chest heaving up and down from the wrestle.

Suddenly, the weight of the body is removed and she stares up at Daryl offering a hand to get her up. She takes it willingly, wincing as she hops to her feet.

“Ya bit?” He puts his hand on her lower back to help her steady herself.

She shakes her head and takes in the amount of dead lying on the cold, hard ground. “No.” The number must be double with the ones the walkers took down with them.

“Is this how it’s gonna be? Forever?” Darcy blinks tears away from the corners of her eyes without even knowing they were there.

Daryl sighs and looks down at the ground, “Don’ know.” He is now just letting her out of his grasp. “Not getting’ any easier, tha’s for sure.”

This is pure madness. They’ve been chased from their homes, attacked, witnessed their own friends and family die in front of them, and still the world continues to bite down harder every day…

Darcy turns back around to face the camp and hears Daryl’s voice just whisper, “You sure you still wanna go back out there on your own?”

.. It all very much feels like an over-dramatic movie on television and all Darcy wants, more than anything, is to turn it all off and go to bed.

Notes

Thoughts?

-Jane.

Comments

Please update this is such an amazing story and I'm dying to know what happens next!!!

Ash8 Ash8
1/22/19

@LoriG
Part 66 is up ;)

@aphishinthec
Argh you got my hopes up- I saw an update, but it was you replying to my last messaege! Please can you update @bikingthroughflowers ? Thank you!

LoriG LoriG
6/25/18

@LoriG Right?!?! Need to know how she would handle Negan.

I'm also desperate to know how Darcy would fare in the storyline now. Pleeeeeease don't give up on this fic, I'm reading it AGAIN! <3<3<3

aphishinthec aphishinthec
4/6/18

I’d love to know how Darcy would deal with Negan... you need to update surely?! Still love this story, and just read it again!

LoriG LoriG
7/31/17