Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Do or die trying

Chapter 1

Shane threw his arm in the air; in one hand he clutched a rifle. "Aw this is just bullshit. We're walking around here for an hour. Meanwhile our camp is unmanned! There isn't shit out here. That smoke could have been anything."

Daryl ducked out of the way of the end of the gun. "Hey, fucking watch it!"

"Our camp isn't unprotected." Rick put his hand on his aching ribs. He had been through the wringer lately and his body couldn't keep up. "But you're right. There isn't anything out here."

"Right…" Shane put his finger to his head like the thought just occurred to him. "That's right our camp is protected. By T-Dog and a guy who froze when it mattered. I forgot. Real safe!"

"I have complete confidence in T-Dog's ability, and don't you worry about Glenn that was a unique situation. I'd ask you how you know that brother, but I'm well aware this camp has little secrets. Plus Andrea is there. You taught her to shoot so if she isn't accurate that's on you!"

Daryl's fingers involuntarily went to his temple. He couldn't help but think she was accurate enough. Had she hit her target a hair closer, it would have been lights the fuck out for him. Rick gestured to Daryl with his palm, indicating that Andrea could indeed shoot. She shot Daryl from a distance in a crowd of people. She hadn't mortally wounded him but she still made contact. Shane was about to say something else to continue the argument, Daryl cut him off. "The two of you could have stayed back at camp! I know these woods better than all y'all. You know shit about tracking and navigation! Twenty five feet ahead is a cabin that is where the smoke was coming from. It ain't no one camping cause chimney smoke goes up differently, no wind on the fire! Now shut your traps both of you or the element of surprise ain't no surprise at all!"

Rick and Shane looked at each other before following Daryl. Rick shrugged at Shane's puzzled expression. "How am I supposed to know what he's talking about?"

.

Roger Brody fell to the floor. His head was bleeding from being pistol whipped. It took all of his strength to remain conscious. A filthy, heavyset man was smacking around his beautiful twenty nine year old daughter. "Please don't hurt her! I'll give you everything we have! Take it all!" His stomach churned from the effort to talk. Violently he dry heaved making his head pound even more.

"Daddy, I can handle it. Don't argue with them!" Dylan looked at the other men. When she was satisfied they weren't going to react to her father's outburst, she turned towards the man that was hitting her. "What do you want?" He smiled at her. It was an evil smile and she knew something awful was about to happen.

"You can handle it? YOU CAN HANDLE IT?"

He slammed Dylan against the wall with such force her breath was knocked right out of her lungs. Her knees buckled as she tried desperately to stay conscious. He pressed his body against hers preventing her from crumpling to the floor. Silently she consoled herself. They'll just take the supplies and move on. You just have to survive long enough.

.

The man that was holding her had rancid breath from rotting teeth. His beard and hair were unkempt as was his clothing. It didn't get this way overnight and Dylan was positive this was the way he lived his entire life. The smell turned her already queasy stomach. The other two were just as bad. Where she was from, they were called mountain men. The kind of men that married their cousins, had deformed babies, and lived life in shacks much like the one Dylan and her father had taken over last week.

.

His words snapped her out of her assessment into reality. "You can handle it? Let's see how much you can handle. Can ya handle Donald, over there?" The man Donald smiled at her. He had a "meth mountain" kind of smile. The type you see regularly on the meth addicts back home in Marshal County. His teeth were black as coal. He was too thin, deathly so. His hands shook, which confirmed her thoughts, he was an addict and burning out too. Dylan knew she would be able to fight him off if she had too. The other man, a kid really, was holding her father at gun point. He watched, wide eyed, as the fat son of a bitch continued to taunt her.

"Let's have some fun. Some real fun." His hand trailed down Dylan's side to mid-thigh.

Dylan's father tried to rationalize with him. "Don't touch her! I told you. You can have it all. I got guns, bullets and food. There is food in there!" He pointed to a cedar bench. The type you would see at the foot of a bed.

.

The druggie giggled until spittle formed at the corners of his mouth. He was pouring sweat even though it wasn't hot in there. The temperature was dropping and the nights were fairly cold. He yanked at his belt furiously but still wasn't able to pull it open. Nervously the kid kicked her father hard in the stomach and followed the blow with another to his head using the butt end of the rifle.

"No! Don't hit him anymore you bastard!"

She screamed when the man holding her slid his hand into her crotch. Dylan squirmed and fought him but he was just too strong. There was nothing she could do to stop him. He yanked her pants down to her knees. She hit him but he just slammed her against the wall again. He was going to rape her and then let the other two have a go at it. This was almost hopeless yet Dylan refused to stop fighting. She grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head back as hard as she could.

"I like rough, come on give it…"

.

Dylan let go of his hair the second the arrow pierced his head. She watched the way his arms shot up and stayed like that. She looked into his eyes, a look of shock etched onto his face. He was dead before he hit the ground. She looked from the man who held her captive to the man that saved her. He stood in the window for a brief moment, staring at her from over the end of a crossbow. If he hadn't killed her attacker, she would have believed he was one of this group.

.

The druggie was laughing at his friend almost like the arrow was some kind of joke. The kid shifted his weight from foot to foot. Time seemed to stretch an eternity between the moment her captor was killed and the moment she wished it was her lying dead on the floor. Dylan yanked her pants back up as the door was kicked in. A cop in a light on dark brown uniform held a gun to the kids head. He was the first into the room. A large muscle bound man with a shaved head was right on the heels of the cop. He executed the druggie before he even stepped into the room completely. One single shot rang out and Dylan hadn't a clue who pulled the trigger. The kid still clung to the rifle, panic rose in him, showing in his unpredictable movements. The shaved head man screamed at the cop. That one had to be the one who kicked in the door. Dylan glanced at his heavy boots, thinking he was some sort of military man. "Shoot him! Haven't you learned yet? Shoot HIM! Goddamn it!" He shook his bald head in disgust when the cop failed to respond. Another shot filled the cabin deafening Dylan. The kid crumpled to the floor.

.

Dylan remained plastered to the wall. Her ears were ringing, slowly they were returning to normal. She didn't know if she could trust these men or if they just brought another type of pain to her life. Fear ran through her. She worried, had they saved her only to harm her worse than the other three? She looked at the doorway feeling the desperate need to get out of the cramped cabin. The crossbow man blocked the exit. A gasping, gurgling sound finally penetrated her conscious thought. It seemed out of place and familiar all the same. Dylan's eyes fell on her father. His face was red as he clutched his chest. A dark stain spread out on the front of his shirt. Dylan couldn't process what was happening until she saw the brighter red seeping through his fingers.

"Daddy!"