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The Hunter Within

This Town

“That’s the car, right there, by the white one,” Abraham straightened. Shifting to follow the other man's gaze, Daryl leant over the steering wheel to consider the slightly familiar vehicle with a growing sense of dread. “Can’t see them, though.”

Taking a tight turn, he navigated them through the parking lot to pull up beside the faded green sedan, twisting in his seat slightly to consider where Rick studied it with guarded eyes. Concentrating much harder than usual on keeping his quickening breath steady, Daryl cut the ignition to open the door, not entirely sure if his legs had the strength to stand as a booted foot touched down on the littered asphalt. The sun was threatening upon the horizon, the others having been gone for too long, their radio too silent, for him to be anything but wary. Not bothering to collect his rifle from the still crowded back seat, he rounded the driver's side of the car they had sourced from the garage to pull at the handle of the other, his heart lurching as it opened.

“Maybe they just found a heap of stuff,” Heath attempted as Daryl leant over the seat to grab at the radio, gesturing for Rick to try the connection, he cursing as it crackled somewhat mockingly.

“Daryl,” the other man warned as he started towards the large, seemingly empty, building without a second thought, pausing only to grab the rifle Michonne knowingly extended for him to take. “We gotta be smart about this.”

He ignored him entirely, making no effort to even acknowledge the fact that Rick had spoken at all as he stalked across the parking lot, crippling fear disguising itself as palpable anger. “If they’ve been in there this whole fucking time, without that fucking radio,” Daryl rambled as they closed in on the loosely hung front doors, his voice louder than it should have been. “I swear to God, I’m gonna – ”

“Be thankful that they are okay,” Michonne finished, her dark gaze meeting his as she reached back to pull her katana from its secured position, the blade glistening readily under the afternoon sun.

Not able to argue with the fact, he turned his attention back to the door with a resigned huff, double-taking as his eyes caught on the scuffed dirt he crossed over as he dropped them out of habit. Pausing, he studied the marks, chest tightening around his lungs as he squatted to touch at the struggle induced tracks with a single, hesitant finger. He didn’t need to voice his findings, Rick already pushing through the glass doors, colt python in hand, before he had even had the chance to look up at the space he had occupied. Pulling himself up onto weak legs, Daryl followed suit, his mechanically raised rifle dropping ever so slightly as he scanned the empty waiting room before them. In search of guidance, he moved to the counter, leaning over it as Abraham whistled for attention.

Twisting in his place, elbows still resting upon the grimy bench, his gaze first touched on the red head of hair before he shifted to consider the poster the other man stood before. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he considered the cleared smear of dirt across the hospital's large map, it deepening as his attention slipped to the familiar length of wood that was propped against the wall beside it. Abandoning his search, he moved towards Sophie’s staff, the fingers of his right hand leaving the comfort of his rifle to touch at the folded paper that hung from the base of the blade. Shouldering his own weapon, he gripped at hers with his newly freed hand, the other moving to rip the note from where it had been forced down over the sharp steel, it decorated with dirty fingerprints. Not a note, he realised, unsuccessfully working to swallow his dread as he followed the single, black line through unfamiliar streets.

“They could have left it,” Heath suggested, Daryl not looking, not granting the notion a dignified response, as he held out the paper for Rick to take from him.

“They ain’t about to walk there, gotta be more than fifty miles,” he muttered as he turned for the door. “Besides, they would’a called in.”

“Hey, hey,” Rick moved to shadow him, a single hand coming to touch at his shoulder as they shoved through the glass doors, the others on their heels. “At least we know where they are. That’s a start, that’s something.”

“Yeah, Rick, but whichever bastard that left this wanted us to know where they are,” he spat, not looking at the other man as he stalked back across littered asphalt, all but ignoring the walker that shuffled after them. “They want us to come get them.”

“We don’t know what happened here.”

“You gonna give them the benefit of the doubt?” Daryl all but laughed, all but yelled, over his shoulder at Abraham. “You really that thick?”

“Daryl…”

“In case you didn’t notice, those fucking pricks, they took your girl, and I ain’t gotta tell you what fucking pricks do to pretty girls like her.”

“To pretty girls like Sophie?” Abraham retorted angrily, his pace quickening, boots crunching over loose gravel a little heavier as Daryl tried desperately to ignore the way his heart shuddered, as if it pain. “Why you gotta take it there, man?”

“Because that’s the fucking shitty reality of – ”

“Daryl.”

“ – this fucking shitty situation!”

“Daryl!” Rick boomed, louder this time, he grabbed at the nook of his elbow as he twisted mid-step to face Abraham, fists bundled. “You gotta calm down.”

His chest heaved at the notion, his eyes only on the larger man, unmoving, as Rick continued his attempt to talk him down, as if calm was something that Daryl was capable of right now. His fear, the same one that he had smothered with anger, worked to consume him entirely, it panicky in nature. Tearing his gaze from Abraham, he first looked to the walker that hurried after them, its feet dragging and left arm severed just below the shoulder, it swinging loosely with each step. Then, he met Rick’s gaze, his brother just nodding, a silent promise that everything would be okay, one that he had no right, no authority, to make in the first place. Still, Daryl believed it, seemingly feeding off his confidence, off his resolve, enough so that he was able to gain traction of the all-consuming, crippling fear once again.

Tightening his hands around her staff in search of the comfort she so often sought in the width of wood, Daryl turned for the passenger seat of their car once again, knowing that he was in no state to be sitting behind the wheel. With Rick taking to the driver's seat, he only felt a little guilty for making Abraham squeeze into the back, for the way Michonne was only left with three-quarters of her own seat, her head slightly tilted to avoid brushing it against his shoulders. The old car rumbled to life as he wedged the staff diagonally across his door, hanging a hand from the worn, blood stained, string that secured the blade into place before taking to staring out the window in search of a distraction. It was Rick that offered him one, all but laying the roughly drawn map out onto his lap in a silent plea for directions.

As they drove, Michonne radioed the others, Aaron assuring them that he would keep an eye on everyone while Carl begged for them to pick him up in the background, as if they were just headed out to see a movie or some shit. Long after the crackling of waning airwaves had faded, leaving them sitting in silence, Rick began to talk strategy, to talk manoeuvres and victory, his voice carrying a sense of certainty that Daryl tried desperately to build his own determination around. Along with the other man's confidence, he was thankful for his carefulness, Rick having him place his attention solely on navigating them around the drawn lines rather than along them, cautious of what or who they held.

The closer they drew, the darker it became, night having claimed their vision almost entirely, save for the light that reflected off the crescent moon above them. With their headlights off in an attempt to remain somewhat conspicuous, it was because of it that Daryl caught sight of the small herd that moved in front of them, shadows cast across the rise in the leaf littered road. Instructing Rick to slow down, despite knowing that he too had seen, his gaze narrowed on the rotting figures, they not at all interested in their approach. They’re hunting. Also realising this, or perhaps Daryl had actually voiced the fact, Rick cut the engine to coax the now silent vehicle to a slow stop. No one moved for a long moment, each of them studying the herd, its weak points, its strengths, knowing that they had the high ground.

Opening his door, Daryl slipped through the divided space, a hand snaking back under Sophie’s propped staff to grab at his rifle. The others moved in beside him as he swung the heavy weapon to bury its stock within bone and brain. Pulling it free, he drove it forward with a soft grunt, perhaps stupidly shoving the barrel up through the torn flesh of a cheek to stab the brain that lay between it and a decayed palate. With a brief break in the oncoming dead, he shouldered the blood-coated rifle in favour of the knife sheathed at his hips, gripping it tightly as he stalked the next. The moon reflected off the blood on his hands and arms, it spraying against his face and chest as he darted somewhat heftily through the dwindling numbers to bury his knife fist deep beneath the jawline of the final walker.

Working to catch his breath, his lungs heaving with excitement at the adrenaline that coursed through his hurried heart, Daryl kept his blade in hand as he turned for the thick of the forest that bordered them. Taking up the trail that the walkers had been on, he stepped over the threshold cautiously, eyes scanning the familiar, eerie darkness for any sign of movement. Swallowing his carefulness, he let out a slow, long whistle, it seeming to weave through the thick of trees to leave only silence in its wake. Daring another step deeper into the forest, he repeated the notion, eyes dropping to the leaves beneath his booted feet as he listened intently, wistfully. His weary frame shuddered with relief as it echoed back to him, the pitch much lower, much weaker, than his own.

He heard them long before he could make out the way their familiar silhouettes darted somewhat cautiously towards him, the others standing by the edge of the forest, their attention on both it and the road that it snaked through. As they drew closer, Daryl’s brow line drew together, it becoming evident by both sight and sound that there was only two of them, their slight figures hunched, their steps anxious. His relief to see Sophie was mirrored by Abraham’s as he placed Rosita as the second figure, it fleeting as they took in the crimson complexion of their arms, as the light of the moon offered them a glance at the tight nature in which their wrists were bound. Blood soaked the front of Sophie’s shirt, one side of her face obviously grazed, her hands clutching at a shard of splintered wood each.

Working to deepen his suddenly shallow breath, Daryl raised a single hand to coax them both out of the forest, his fingers brushing over the small of Sophie’s back as she fell in behind Rosita to move out onto the empty road. As if the others were close behind, he glanced back over his shoulder into the darkness, only to find it entirely still in nature. Shoving the thought momentarily from mind, he first removed the slick pieces of fragmented branch from her shaking hands, ignoring the flesh that clung to it as he discarded them to then tend to the binds around her wrists. She spoke quickly, frantically, as he worked, worn nails pinching at the damp, pulled tight, knots with little success. Michonne attempted to compose both women as he enlisted the help of his knife, slicing through the multiple layers to let it fall to their feet.

“Vince,” Sophie huffed, chest heaving, as she took the water bottle Rick offered her with eager hands. “They got Vince hung up. There’s a pool.”

“Full of walkers,” the brunette finished as she paused to take in a desperate mouthful of water, Daryl using what remained to wash off her wrists to inspect the damage caused by the tight binds. “Cal and Tara, they’re still there, making sure, making sure that he doesn’t fall in.”

Touching at the raw rivets in Sophie’s skin, they all but soaked with infected blood, Daryl applied a little more pressure, his other hand touching at her shoulder in an attempt to hold her in place when she cringed. It was only then that she seemed to become fully conscious of those around her, a tired sob slipped through chapped lips as her eyes met his. Nodding in acknowledgement, or perhaps to convince himself that she really was for the most part, okay, the hand Daryl clutched at her shoulder with softened to slip over the width of her back, pulling her close. As he breathed her in, it welcoming despite the foul blood that seemed to cover every inch of visible skin, her fists bundled around the fabric of his shirt, her damp face nestling into the nape of his neck.

Planting a lingering, thankful, kiss on her hairline, Daryl reluctantly released her, his fingers sliding down the length of her arm to clutch at her hand as they moved for the car. It was then they realised the fault in their abruptness, in their lack of hindsight, all seven of them having to squeeze into the already crammed rescue car they had brought. Pulling Sophie onto his lap, a hand guiding her head under the length of her staff, he found himself thankful, however, for the opportunity to hold her close a moment longer. She was relaying information to Rick as the other man started the car, it moving forward with an overworked groan, Rosita’s elbows perched upon the centre console from where she had managed to squeeze into the back seat, adding details that Sophie missed.

Her bloody hands gripped tightly at his, she anchoring them in her lap, the both of them more than willing to ignore their current argument in favour of the comfort it offered. Growing selfish, unsure with how long their temporary truce would last, Daryl rest his cheek against the plane of her back and closed his eyes, relishing in the way her heartbeat drowned out the rest of the world for just a moment. Too soon, she shifted her weight, sitting almost sideways across his lap, her hand touching at his hair before she corrected it to wrap her fingers around the grip beside his head in search of stability. Meeting his gaze ever so briefly, she still speaking, still planning, Daryl looped his now freed hand around her waist to selfishly adjust her position, bringing her closer.

It was as he watched – no, as he studied – her, her now unrestricted hands working to do half of the speaking for her, that Daryl realised just how wrong he had been. Before him, or rather, on top of him, sat one of the strongest people he had and probably would ever know. There she was, drenched in unidentifiable blood, her wrists rubbed raw, and her feet no doubt aching from the miles she had crossed, making threats that he knew were far from idle. I’m one of those monsters now, Daryl, she whispered through his memories, her back up against the grey of the prison walls. I am. I kill people. That’s who I am now, and I’m not sorry. Though he had been reluctant to let her believe that then, he now knew that he wasn’t sorry either. He knew that it was that monster, that sense of survival, that persistence, the one she had nurtured so unforgivingly, that had kept her alive. Not him. Not anyone else. Her.

How could he deny her that, after everything they had been through, after everything she had been through, how could he deny her ability to keep herself safe? To keep herself alive. She had managed for weeks after the prison, despite or perhaps in spite of Merle, to do just that. In fact, she had managed for years. Back in Atlanta, before he had ever known her, a time he no longer could comprehend, she had made it, truly on her own. She didn’t need him. She never did. It was he that needed her, it was him that was weak, it was him that was scared, something that neither his brother nor his father would have ever let him admit. It wasn’t this world that he was scared of, and perhaps it wasn’t even the people that now ruled it, it was her. Daryl was terrified of Sophie, not just of the thought of losing her, but of her.

She was right. This wasn’t about her. It was about them. It was about what had happened that night, of the way she had looked at him, of the way she had touched him. Realisation tormented him with the memory of that night, his gaze shifting from the window he had taken to staring out to study her silhouette, remembering the way it had looked, the way it had felt, against his own, less remarkable body. It wasn’t her vulnerability that had terrified him, however, it had been his own. How could it not have been, he considered, eyes dropping to study the broken, healing, skin of his knuckles. After everything they had seen, even after everything that had happened before, how could he not be absolutely, undeniably, fucking mortified?

Because she loves you, something deep within seemed to sigh, as if it were impatient, as if it had known all along. He had known, but he hadn’t really known, and he was given no time to further explore the revelation, the crowded car coming to a steady stop beneath him. Abandoning his train of thought, only briefly glancing up at the head of white hair that so nearly brushed against the felted roof above it, Daryl leant forward to study the darkness before him with a growing sense of attentiveness. They had given the compound a wide berth, avoiding it and its surrounding roads entirely to move in from behind, a chain fence, not unlike the one they had sought safety behind at the prison, marking the perimeter.

“That building over there,” Sophie hissed, her tone much steadier, her voice composed, as she pointed towards the large low set one that centred the array of storied structures. “On the other side is where the pool is.”

“About how many people are we talking?”

“Fifty, fifty-nine,” Rosita offered surely, the estimation surprisingly not one at all. “It’s late. A lot of them will probably be sleeping.”

“So we do this quietly.”

“And quickly,” Rick added to Sophie’s statement, his icy blue eyes unreadable as he studied the buildings, searching for vantage points and any sign of roving patrols. “They’ll have guards, at this pool, I know we would. We’ve got to make sure we see them before they see us.”

“Then what do we do with them?” Heath questioned from his seat behind Daryl, six pairs of eyes snapping to consider him, brows furrowed, as if it were entirely obvious. It was obvious.“You want to kill them?”

Rick studied the younger man for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he shifted in his place, head cocked ever so slightly, curiously. “What else would we do?”

“I don’t know, maybe, maybe just knock them out or something?”

“This isn’t the time for dicking around,” Abraham almost warned, the cab falling silent as he shifted awkwardly, leaning heavily into Rosita, to pull his rifle from where he had all but sat on it. Glancing up, he frowned at his audience with palpable confusion. “Well, are we doing this or not,” he prompted, it a statement rather than an actual question. “’Cause something’s telling me that we got two of our own in there who would appreciate the helping hands. That guy isn’t small, gotta be at least a hundred and seventy pounds, and he’s been hanging in there for a while now.”

Resisting the urge to add a solemn hopefully to the end of that sentence, despite the pain in his ass that Vincent was, Daryl opened the door, holding Sophie steady as she attempted to manoeuvre through it. Touching down onto the abandoned road with light feet, the group converged at the trunk of the car before moving through the relatively thin tree line for the chain link fence. Rather than moving straight through it, the small convoy scaled its length for a little, their eyes on the seemingly still centre of the compound, their ears on the forest behind them. They travelled with practice silence, Daryl retreating into himself, letting his survival instinct take over. As it settled somewhat smugly into control, he found himself identifying the others by just their footsteps, hearing silent conversations, feeling an undeniable sense of hesitation.

Glancing back over his shoulder as they paused by a section of fence hidden by overhanging leaves, he met Heath’s wide eyes, he only briefly studying the way his chest heaved before turning to force himself through the tight opening behind Michonne. Keeping to the fence line and the shadows that the nearby trees offered, the group continued silently towards the buildings, the break they had made left unsecured. The closer they got, the more frequent their stops became, an air of impatience settling over them, it growing more tangible each time they slowed. Michonne handled the first, the second and third of the guards they encountered, her katana effortlessly sliding through his torso, the body having barely slumped to the ground before she had adjusted her grip to drive the blade down through the ear.

While they all moved on relatively quickly, Daryl could feel Heath hesitate once again, he standing over the body, staring down at the way blood pooled at the base of its skull. It had been easy to forget that while he had volunteered to come along on the trip, and while he had previous supply run experience, he had also been granted the same sanctuary that the other original residents of Alexandria had. It was a fact that they could not afford to either deny or ignore, not given the situation they were currently walking into. As the others moved further along the brick wall they hugged, Daryl dared to straighten, his eyes meeting Heath’s as he gestured for him to follow, not bothering to check that he was.

Upon re-joining the rest of the group, he slid into a lowered, defensive position beside Abraham, those with the melee weapons having taken to the front. As Michonne motioned hastily for them to get lower, as if they could, Daryl’s gaze brushed habitually over Sophie, she turning to meet his ever so briefly, as if she had felt it settle on her. Adjusting the grip he had on his rifle, knowing that whatever had forced them down was coming their way, he readied himself, fingers flexing over the stock and trigger as he drew in a deep breath. With their preparedness came silence, and with that silence, came the crunching of feet, they not much heavier than theirs had been.

Counting only one, Daryl frowned as they threatened to round the corner, sure that whoever it was, they hadn’t come in search of them, their footsteps too loud. The tall, lanky figure baulked as they rounded the corner, wide eyes brushing over the party he was met with before touching on the blade Michonne prepared to swing with two hands. Despite her swiftness, Sophie, somehow, had been quicker, her own grip wrapping around the other woman’s bicep to still her attempt. No one moved for the longest moment, each of them just as surprised, as unsure as the next. The new company included. The world around them had slowed to a temporary halt, it laced with anticipation, driven back into real time as the figure turned on his heels.

Adjusting her approach, Michonne stepped out from behind the wall, not to chase him, but to simply trip him, his tall frame toppling over to connect with the ground below audibly. “Let me go, let me go,” he struggled as they pulled him around the corner, Abraham dodging the backpack he awkwardly flung at him to wrap a large hand over his mouth.

“Thomas,” Sophie hissed, the kid – Daryl coming to realise that he really was just that – shook his head violently, his familiar eyes snapping to the sound of her voice with a sense of irritation. “Thomas, you gotta listen to me.”

His struggle only deepened, his thrashing almost too sporadic for Abraham to handle himself, Rick abandoning his position to pin his right wrist down with his knee. “Ow, fuck man,” the blonde cried out as the hand over his mouth was tentatively removed, its intention replaced by a hovering barrel and silent warning. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I swear.”

“You aren’t a dibber dobber,” the larger of the men that loomed over him huffed with amusement, raising his eyebrows in question. “That’s gonna be your argument?”

“Look, I’m just, I’m not supposed to be out here all right, I just didn’t want to be caught,” he sighed, giving up his struggle to open his palms as if in surrender, something he had seen Vincent do countless times before. “Can you please just get off me? And can you just leave me alone, I don’t know you.”

Frowning, Daryl followed his gaze to consider where Sophie shifted to lean over them, she making no attempt to promise such thing. Can’t believe this fucking kid is actually alive. “Where are you going?”

“Honestly, that’s really none of your fucking business,” he spat back, the apparently feigned childish tone he had previously adopted slipping entirely. “And if you so much as mention by brother again, I’ll take the late night swim just to see you take it too.”

“You’ve got to believe me. He’s here. That’s who we’ve come back for,” she argued despite his warning, not able to finish her pitch before he attempted to call out for help, his cries muffled beneath a large hand once again. “We came all this way looking for you, all the way from Virginia, he brought us all here to find you.”

“Fuck you!” He screamed through flesh and bone, his eyes dangerously dark as he fought against his confinement, as if he had a chance against both Abraham and Rick. “Leave me the fuck alone you fucking crazy bitch! I don’t give a shit about you, or your friends, you can keep going! Just leave me alone! He’s dead, okay!? He’s dead!”

Nodding to himself, Daryl straightened, his eyes meeting Rick’s as he adjusted the position of the rifle he clutched at, spinning it in his grasp before stepping forward to drive it downwards. The kid fell silent upon impact, his eyes all but rolling back into his head, the blood of previously disposed of walkers painting the bridge of his nose. “I love this family.”

“Okay, we gotta move,” Abraham concluded as he stood, the others choosing to ignore Daryl’s entirely sarcastic remark. “Who knows who heard what.”

“We can’t just leave him here,” Rosita hissed, her brows furrowed, a hand falling to gesture at the teenager. “What if someone finds him?”

“We can’t take him with us.”

All eyes moved to Rick, he nodding at both sentiments, his eyes on the kid, Thomas not much older than Carl, before turning to speak over his shoulder. “Rosita, can you carry him? You and Heath?”

“You might need us in there.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his tone tired as he dipped his head, twisting further in his place to consider the statement. “We’ll just have to make it work.”

“I’ll go, just me,” Abraham offered almost disappointedly, his gaze briefly touching on Rosita. “It’ll give you guys the extra person.”

“No, I need you with us.”

“Whoever’s going, we got to go now,” Sophie reminded them from where she had momentarily abandoned the conversation to replace Rosita as lookout.

Almost silently, it was decided that Abraham would be the one to take the kid back, he assuring Rick that they might need the extra weapon if push came to shove. Not being able to deny that, the latter just nodded, a sense of reluctance daring upon the impatience that hung so heavily over the delay. Resolving on the anti-climatic role he had accepted, Abraham wished them luck, hoping that they wouldn’t need it as he adjusted his position to but up throw Thomas up onto one of his broad shoulders. With one of his hands occupied with holding him in place, the other clutching at his pistol, the group remained there for as long as it took him to retrace their much quieter steps, their attention on possible outposts.

Dropping the scope he peered through, Daryl turned back to dip his head as Abraham disappeared behind one of the buildings closest to the section of fence they had forced themselves through. Accepting that he would have to make the rest of that journey without them, the other man shifted to motion the others forward once again. They moved through the maze of buildings much like they previously had, it slow and almost torturous in nature. Daryl had begun to grow impatient as they backtracked for the third time, once again finding themselves threatening upon open spaces. With no choice, they instead scaled the outwards facing length of what appeared to be an otherwise occupied building, their feet light as they ducked beneath an open window, it flooding the weedy garden that bordered it with a soft, somewhat menacing, glow of a dying gaslight.

They had abandoned all lightness in their approach as they weaved around the centre building, knowing that it no longer mattered anyway, not of someone would happen to walk out of one of the rooms that lined the high-set building adjacent to it. Trying to keep them away from any possible residential areas, Sophie and Rosita led them down the length of a single story building, his elbow brushing at the rough brick as if to anchor him to it. Coming to the end, she paused to peer around the corner to raise three fingers over her shoulder before deciding on a fourth. Taking in a settling breath, Daryl rolled his shoulders and met her gaze before they spilt out into the open area upon Rick’s silent instruction, they each attempting for various hiding places.

Their arrival was greeted as they expected it would be, four guards baulking as they settled into the space, their low voices and approaches staggered. From his cover behind the outcrop of the balcony they bordered, his gaze instantly shifted to find one of the men through the scope of his rifle, he making a move for the radio that clung to his hips. Squeezing the trigger, having taken little time to find his aim, Daryl watched as the man abandoned his attempt, his body slumping against the cement unceremoniously. By the time he tore his gaze away from him, another three, silent bullets had whistled through the night, they thankfully having thought to bring rifles dressed with silencers when they had left to track down the others. And here we are. Knowing that despite the silencer, the overturn of the pool area would not go unnoticed, not when considering the small area that they were now corralled into.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment being, he glanced over the space apprehensively before standing, before studying the others that also occupied the unkempt space. Had it of not been for the way the smell of blood hung thick in the air, or the way backup played at his thoughts, it would have almost been amusing. Above the pool, it inky in nature and centring the area, hung Vincent, his large frame suspended entirely by rope, it swinging ever so slightly, as if there was a breeze. What was perhaps even funnier, however, was what he had found on the other end of the rope, it looped up and over a less than sturdy looking beam inches above his hands. Both Cal and Tara were laying on the ground, she stacked on top of him, the rope looped around their horizontal frames, anchored into place by the way the latter had wrapped her legs around the hip height pole that had probably been sloppily cemented there during the end of the world renovations.

As the others took up various defensive positions around the pool, Daryl and Sophie moved towards where the pair and the winch clung to the pole. Tara groaned almost impatiently as they approached, her head falling back onto Cal’s sweaty brow from where she had lifted it to watch on curiously. “Of course you guys come at the end of my shift.”

“At least you won’t have to do gym today, think of this glute workout you’ve got going on,” Sophie offered in an attempt to lighten the mood, her pace quick and gaze shifting to Vincent as she passed him, bloody staff in worn hands. “And you. Arms, core, shoulders and back. You can have the rest of the week off.”

“I’m really not in the fucking mood for jokes right now, Sophie, can you just get me the fuck down. Thanks.”

“Get him down,” Rick unknowingly echoed the same sentiment, there just as little trace of humour in his tone as there was in Vincent’s. “We got company heading this way.”

“I need someone to distract the rotters.”

Stepping aside to let Michonne take his place, Sophie having already abandoned her staff to grip at the taut rope as she waited, Daryl altered course. “Hey, hey, assholes,” he hissed, freeing one of his hands to dip it over the edge and into the questionable water that the pool held, managing to gain the attention of those closest to him. “Over here! C’mon!”

Those that weren’t already hung over the sides of the pool, exposed finger bones clawing in an attempt at the boots that moved along it, became intrigued by the departure of the others, their vacant eyes following the group that broke away in his favour. As the walkers waded towards him, the furthest abandoning the possible meal above them for the much more promising one hanging over the edge, Daryl’s gaze shifted between them, the splintering beam above them, and the way the rope snaked tensely over it. In an attempt to quicken the process, Vincent tried to hold his own weight with a groan, his fingers coming to clutch weakly at the wood only for his grip strength to fail as soon as the rope slackened. Despite his exaggerated splashing, Daryl wasn’t able to distract them from the one the other man made when he hit the water, the others unable to regain their grasp quick enough.

The algae-coated water threatened to still as those on the ropes groaned in protest against the friction burn that no doubt plagued their bare hands, a single, almost silent, gunshot breaking through the anticipation. Vincent burst through the surface moments later in desperate search of air, weak arms failing as he turned frantically to collect his bearings. Catching sight of the walkers that advanced on him, he turned in the opposite direction, wet clothes weighing him down further as he waded for the other side with as much grace that could be expected of him. Sophie and Michonne worked to clear the walkers that threatened to block his path, they abandoning their weapons once again as he tried unsuccessfully to pull his water logged frame up and over the edge, the muscles of his arms having been stretched thin.

All too aware of the still approaching walkers, the pair paused briefly to muster their strength before heaving upwards a final time, Cal moving in to grab at the collar of the other man's shirt. Stumbling backwards as he all but rolled out, Sophie thrust out a booted foot to kick at the decaying frame that attempted to crawl out after him, the almost black water that Vincent had displaced beginning to soak through her clothes. With no time to rest, she pulled herself up onto bent knees, chest heaving as she leant over to collect her staff, to pat somewhat reassuringly at the large man's chest. It was as she dragged herself up onto weary legs that she met Daryl’s gaze, it lingering on him with a slight nod as she turned to offer Cal a hand up, his legs almost as unreliable as Vincent’s arms were.

Tara was still fighting for control over her own, wobbling as if she were no older than Judith, when another wave of guards moved over the threshold of what he was forced to assume was the function room. Hissing at everyone to take cover, Daryl did the same, his body poorly shielded by the back of a conveniently placed deck chair. Hooking the barrel of his rifle on the armrest, he took in a deep breath and peered down the scope, releasing his breath and a bullet into the crowd before him. Both positioning and practice seemed to work in their advantaged, they camouflaged by overhanging trees and shadows as the group of men funnelled through the doors, through the side gate, only to be met with a usually well placed, whistling bullet.

Emptying a magazine, Daryl paused to reload, his gaze flickering between the stacked bullets and those that had managed to weave through the flying ones anxiously. The two sides had become much more evenly matched by the time he had managed to click it back into place, the other having melted into shadows, into the spaces between them, reducing the use of their rifles and the noise that accompanied them. Opting to keep to his, watching the others back, he worked to locate the most vulnerable of the group first, gaze brushing on where Tara and Vincent had taken shelter, all but hidden from the opposing side beneath fallen palm fronds. Having sourced, or perhaps been given, a weapon, the first worked to protect them both.

Trusting that she was capable of doing so, he shifted his attention to the other familiar silhouettes as they darted through the space, his scope brushing over where Rick had stood, the silver of his colt python reflecting light from the moon, before he touched on where Heath had all but bundled himself behind a bush. Growling over the scattered, almost silent, gunfire, Daryl motioned at him to do something, to do anything, his irritation only transferring to Rosita as she followed his gaze to scold the other man from her nearer position. Though he first refused, the young man did as he was told, the rifle he clutched at raised awkwardly as he stood on unsure legs to fire one, two targetless shots into the darkness before him. Content with his influence, Daryl shifted to consider those he was yet to, his search halted by the favour one of the guards returned, it connecting with the base of Heath’s throat.

He didn’t have time to dwell on whether he was or wasn’t to blame for the way he slumped down onto bent knees to topple over, thick blood pooling beneath him, knowing that it hadn’t been him that had taken the shot anyway. Instead, he followed its trajectory to rest on the source, finding that he hadn’t been the only one to witness the death on their side. I’m one of those monsters now, Daryl, Sophie’s voice echoed through the silence that followed, he watching as she dodged the same man's quick moving hands to drive her staff up through his ribcage to use him as a shield from the other. I kill people, she continued as Daryl tore his gaze from her to land a bullet in the skull of the one firing at her, that’s who I am now. Fresh blood ran red down the wood of her staff, seeping between fingers to steadily drip to the cement below. Her own eyes kept the dying man's as she pushed a little harder, crimson hands twisting the width of wood she clutched at before stepping back to pull it free. And I’m not sorry…

Michonne had also taken to wielding her melee weapon, the both of them swinging their respective pointy sticks skilfully as guards approached them with misplaced confidence, Cal ducking a little more weakly through the spaces in between with a knife in each hand. Rosita and Tara followed their darting movements as best they could, any sign of them becoming overwhelmed mowed down almost instantly from various positions around the pool. Knowing that they had to get out of there, that there would only be more coming, Daryl let himself become distracted as he twisted in search of an escape route. At the same moment, someone else had taken the opportunity to do the same, to reload, to scratch their ass, he couldn’t be sure, but when he looked back, Sophie had been knocked off balance as she attempted to dodge a bullet, her opponent all but ripping the length of wood from her hands as she scrambled for it.

He, Rick and surprisingly, Vincent were on their feet before he had a chance to properly grasp it, his frame blocked by the way Cal stumbled back into him. It was this that gave Sophie enough time to roll out from under the blade of her own weapon, the man spinning to adjust his grip, forcing it through Cal’s side as he worked to correct himself. He didn’t have a chance to pull it free, Rick managing to bury a bullet in his skull as Cal dropped to his knees, hands on the wood that had all but impaled him, eyes on Sophie as she scrambled over the body to talk at him. Watching the way one of the fallen guard's comrades moved in on the pair, a noise that could only be described as a growl radiated from deep within, Daryl grabbing at his sheathed knife to lunge across the path he attempted and drive it through the back of his skull.

Leaving the others to what remained of the fight, Daryl moved to grab at the younger man's arm, Vincent having found the strength, having found the adrenalin to fall into place beside him. Grabbing at her own knife, Sophie turned to dodge a fist, drawing it upwards to bury it in another guard's chin in a manner that would have only made Paul proud had he of been there. Three sets of hands hovered over the wound, the bloody pair much weaker, much more fear driven, than the other two. Grabbing at the base of the blade, Daryl tensed as Cal screamed into the quick thinking hand Vincent had pressed against his mouth, those weak fingers wrapping around the width of it as if to hold it into place, silently begging against its removal. Sophie did the same, her request much louder, much more forceful, as she was granted a clear break, numbers having continued to thin.

Silence seemed to settle heavily over them as she, just like the others, abandoned their readied position to join them, to motion for both Daryl and Vincent to pull him up, staff still firmly secured with flesh. “He’ll bleed out if we remove it now.”

“You both right with him?” Rick huffed, the man meeting Daryl’s tight nod before shifting to consider where Heath lay entirely lifeless. “I’ll have to grab Heath. Will the four of you be all right?”

“We’ll make do.”

Trusting that the women would, the group moved for the side gate that Rosita manned, pausing only to arm those that weren’t with automatic weapons before letting it close behind them. Adjusting Cal further up onto his shoulder, Daryl followed close behind Michonne and Sophie as they led, Tara and Rosita protecting their backs as they moved through the almost jungle like path on light feet. Their advance on the exit was halted as they rounded a bend, he forcing Vincent to a stop as Michonne dodged a swung knife to behead a man almost effortlessly. Continuing on, each of them paid the corpse no further mind, save for the trip hazard that he had become.

Through the thinning greenery of the winding, overgrown, walking path, Daryl spied a line of vehicles, he hissing at those in front to change whatever course they were on in favour of it. Given little choice, they were forced to follow it until the end, moving out of the thick of trees to rush across an empty space anxiously. Passing an array of flourishing garden beds, they were forced against one as voices drifted through the space, they seemingly oblivious to the carnage that the thick of bushes had apparently hidden. From the front of their lowered convoy, Michonne motioned for them to still, her hands tightening around the sword she gripped at.

Knowing that they had time, Sophie dared a glance over the crop behind her, Daryl studying her as she did the same to the dimly lit world before her with dying confidence. “Vince,” she hissed, her gaze catching his as the man looked up at her. “I need you to put pressure on it.”

“What?”

“There are guards at the gate that are going to know exactly where we are when these guys reach us in about twenty paces time. I need you to keep pressure on Cal’s wound,” she explained, having already dropped to wrap a hand around the width of wood, preparing to pull it free, he daring to ask if she was sure. “Just do it!”




Notes

All of my thanks goes out to LisaP10, Thanya and Sanders151. Thank you for your continuous support. It truly means a lot to me. Writing it hard, and readers like you guys make it all the more worth it. Also, a welcoming thanks to Maxxx, it blows me away to know that people are not reading this story just once, but going back for seconds.

So, obviously, I changed up the formatting to make it much more presentable and hopefully easier to read. Something that wasn't easy given that I like things being uniform. As someone who likes 1.5 spacing and justified text, I hate how this site gives little choice in presenting stories. Haha. It actually makes me uncomfortable.

Back to the actual story and its content. Tell me what you think! We lost Heath, a character that is still (kind of) in the show to this date, so how do you think that will change things? What about Cal? Do you think he will survive? What about the others? Let's get chatting! Let's get reviewing! Remember that these are all original ideas and for the sake of personal development, reviews are eagerly anticipated.

As of now we are going to be settling back into weekly uploads. So see you all then x

Comments

Who's here on 2020 for a re-read? :D

Tee- Tee-
4/17/20

@QueenUchi

New readers make my heart sing, especially when they start this journey ten months after I ended it (abit abruptly but we won’t get into that because it’ll make me sad again).

Thank you you so much for leaving a comment. Nothing is more motivating for the unmotivated than a little bit of love. Whenever I get a comment from someone new all I find myself wanting to sit down and grill them with a million different questions.

If youre chasing updates about any eventual stories I write, please follow me on instagram @ sophyl_

Thanks a million again!! xx

aryaaa aryaaa
11/28/18

thank you @sanders151 for recomending me this fanfic

Your fanfic has been in the center of my life for the whole month November. Let me just tell you that im in love with everything about this story. Im even at loss of words about how amazing this journey has been.

There have been moments when i actually had to get up and calm down from all the feelings may they be joy sadness or just extreme suffering. Ive been cheering, i've been crying to the point of ugly sobbing, ive been screaming while reading this all.

I dont even know how to tell you how i feel about this fanfic there arent any words for it so ima just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH about it cause thats the closets that i can think off "insert all the feelings i cant express here"

I am just so thank full for all your time and effort and everything youve put into this story. Cause WOW youre an amazing writer and when you do make your original story please do know that I WOULD LOVE TO READ THAT TOO.

This journey has ended but it will forever be in my heart.

QueenUchi QueenUchi
11/27/18

@Sanders151

I was so surprised to see a new notification on this story after all these months. Thank you so much for taking the time
to comment, I hope you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read since. Please feel free to leave me updated on your thoughts xx

aryaaa aryaaa
11/25/18

Hello,

It's been a looong time since i've read this story. Life got busy and i totally forgot to finish it.

SO i decided to reread everything and lemme tell you...I STILL LOVE IT AS MUCH AS THE FIRST TIME.
Im currently at chapter 62 (right after fort hill) and i can't wait for what is to come.


Sanders151 Sanders151
11/15/18