Ok guys here it is, finally a multi-chaptered Bethyl fanfic from moi. If you've read my oneshots/drabbles on here or tumblr then I'll just state that I've opted to write this in a more traditional third person narrative, because personally I found it easier for something that will hopefully be quite long running. Anyway it would be lovely if you could take the time to drop me a review when you've read it as I can't stress enough how lovely it is to just have a few words from readers.
Enjoy
Alexis x
Chaos. It was the only thing you could say to describe it. A blur of pain and torture, screams and shouts. Gun shots and crying. It was like leaving the farm but this time it felt ten times worse. This time it truly did feel like the end of it all.
They had split. They had to. Walkers from one side, the Governor and his army from the other. It was each for their own, the need for survival. She saw it in everyone's eyes before they shamefully turned to run. They couldn't take them all. Didn't stand a chance. With the odds stacked against them, it was a death sentence.
She had run with them, Glenn, Maggie, Carl, Carol and Judith, Hershel; faster than ever before, ever thought possible, with the sounds of their feet echoing the thundering of her heart. Get to the vehicles. Get out. That was what Rick had said. Stick to the plan. The plan. She blinked. The plan was for the coast. It was always for the coast. If they ever split you'd set forth in that direction and they'd catch up on the way. That was all there was to it. All they had. Whether it was a plan or just something said for comfort, right now it didn't feel like much of either.
Running down the darkened damp corridors with Carl at her side and walkers at her heels she wondered what the point of running was anymore. There was very little light at the end of their tunnels. Now that they were running from the dead and the breathing. The odds were stacked against them. Even if they made it out, how long could they go on? Going from one place to another, running scared, starving. She couldn't remember a time when her heart didn't beat like Thor's hammer against her chest.
"This way!" Glenn called out, his voice echoing deep into her the depths of her skull.
It looked different. In fear and fright the corridors which they had become accustomed too looked darker, similar, like a labyrinth; it felt like they had been circling for hours, the sound of blood curdling screams and anxious ill-aimed bullets clattering around them. Biting down on her lip she felt the blood seep into her mouth, the strong taste of iron sparking along her tongue. They were slowing. She knew it. Over her shoulder she could see the shadows chasing. Carl knew it too; she could see it in the way he gripped his gun, his knuckles turning bone white at the edges.
The exit was in front, a metal door with the dim light of the stars and moon shinning from a crack, a small silver lining. They paused momentarily knowing that the fate that awaited them could be worse than what they already faced. "Get Hershel to the truck, Carl and I will cover you." Glenn ordered and they all silently obeyed. She saw Maggie leave with a lingering gaze, whilst she wrapped her arm tighter around Hershel's waist, holding him close. They were slow but they wouldn't stop. They had to keep going. They had to keep running. They had to.
There were hundreds of them. Living and the dead merging into one. It was hard to tell them apart. The ones they wanted to kill, the ones they wanted to keep. With a slow grind of his teeth Daryl squinted across the courtyard at the massacre, from his lookout spot on top of the prison. Once you could have seen the whole world up there, now there wasn't much of the world to see. The world they had tried so hard to create was being destroyed in front of his very eyes. It made his blood boil, made him want to shoot them all, but you couldn't fight a war with three parties. It didn't work. Rick knew that. That's why they had to run but he couldn't, not yet, not until he had one body lying at his feet begging for his forgiveness, for their life. He needed to avenge Merle's death; he needed it more than the air he breathed.
"Don't be a hero!" She heard Maggie plead, her eyes still stuck on Glenn, as they darted from one area to the other, Glenn and Carl covering them the best that they could. The car was only a gate or two away but walkers were flooding each route. Where was Rick? Daryl? Michonne? They were meant to be coming. They had to be coming. Looking back she could see the remainder of the Governors men pressing through, taking down as many as they could, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
Down on the ground the drive, Daryl found was even stronger. Amongst the earth and gravel the smell of blood and rotting flesh hung thick in the air.
"We gotta get out of here!" Rick's voice panted furiously, his gun pointing to the far exit, to where they had pitched up the fence. Michonne nodded before taking a swing with her katana and decapitating a walker swiftly, its head rolling languidly to the left.
"You go," Daryl began, firing an arrow straight into the forehead of another, forcing it to land backwards in a heavy heap, kicking up dust from below. "I got a score to settle." Michonne turned to Rick who shook his head adamantly. His teeth barring as he leant in close, an animalistic growl escaping from within.
"Now is not the time for your own personal crusade. We made a promise to the others!"
"An' I made me a promise to Merle. Ain't no one gonna stop me from putting that punk ass bastard six feet under." There was no talking him out of. It was clear. Daryl's eyes were stony and cold, his body alert and bow ready. Rick lowered his gaze to the ground in defeat a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing there was nothing else he could say as he watched the redneck run back into the cell block.
We're slow. Too slow, she thought, watching as Maggie tried to hurry Hershel along with the aid of only one crutch. Carol was doing her best to scout ahead and keep Judith close and quiet but with each and every step they took it felt like more were upon them. With her eyes roaming wildly around at the hell that surrounded them she could feel her legs tremble beneath her, her knees knocking together as she fought to stay steady. They couldn't go on like this. They didn't stand a chance. Not without a distraction.
The feel of her pistol in her sweaty palm and the sight of an old oil barrel was all she needed. She could do this. Get them out, get them to the car at least. Then they could drive and they'd be faster. Glenn, Carl and her they were fit and able, they could run, catch up with them. They could do that. They had to. It was their only option.
Stopping suddenly she raised her skinny, shaking arm, her finger trembling around the trigger as she squinted to keep sight of her target. Three straight hits that would be all it took. The sound would draw in the walkers from the gate openings giving the others the chance to get passed with just a few remaining that they could take out on foot.
Inhaling deeply she tried to keep her cool, keep her focus. With the feeling of sweat dripping across her forehead she swallowed the hard lump that had formed in her throat and with a silent prayer she let a shot fire.
A loud clatter of what sounded like bullets against metal drew Darryl from one end of the tunnel to the other. He had been searching the cells from top to bottom for a single sign of the Governor but all that greeted him was his poor excuse of an army and walkers, feasting on their flesh. There was no sign of Rick or Michonne and he hoped that that meant they had gotten to the others and were already on their way out.
He was getting low on arrows, too many wasted fires. Feeling around in his belt he pulled out his knife. Catching a glimpse of the dried blood from its last use, his head and eyes lowered, not yet ready to wipe away all that remained of his brother.
"What are you doing?" Carol screeched panic stricken, her voice shrilling into surrounding ears over the sound of the next bullet that hit the target straight on and thundered against the rims.
"Getting you out!" she barked, in a voice unknown to her. A voice that was powerful, confident, and authoritative. A voice that was all that she wasn't but wanted to be.
A few more rounds left. Looking anxiously over her shoulder she could see the gateways clearing. It was working. Her dried bleeding lip twisted upward into a satisfied smirk as she took aim and fired once more. "Go!" she bellowed with a braveness that balled up deep within her stomach.
Shock was stark against the white in their eyes but authority travelled in her voice and she rose with a new found energy. Hershel's eyes met hers, an intense and solid stare that struck her in the center of her heart. "Let me do this." she begged with bright pleading eyes, taking in the old man, whose hair was greyer and skin dull. Exhausted and frightened, reliant on others. He wasn't the man she once knew. Right then and there he wasn't even half the man, but he could be, he could be again she decided, if they would just give her this chance.
"Alright." Hershel responded simply whilst Maggie's dark eyes widened in horror and soft protests began falling from her lips. "I said alright!" the growl of Hershel's anger and turmoil set her back on course even more determined than before. Turning away she struck the trigger two, three times more blocking out the sound of her name being cried, grasping onto the small faint feeling of hope in her heart.
A swift kick and a punch to the ribs. That was all it took to have one of his men pinned to the wall beneath his bow which he held taught and tight across the shuddering boys neck. He looked no older than fifteen but he was one of them none the less. You couldn't afford to have your conscience now Daryl decided in a voice that sounded scarily like Merle's, forcing him to apply further pressure. No, not when only seconds earlier that fifteen year old soldier boy had a pistol aimed at your skull.
Quivering beneath his hold Daryl watched as he squirmed and shook, his pupils widening at the increased the pressure upon his neck, choking him. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, sticking to his floppy light hair, mixing with the mud and blood that stained both of their skins. In the bleak light, deep down, Daryl couldn't help but see that they weren't that different. Both trying to do what they believed was right. Both lost in a world that was so full of wrongs it was hard to do anything right. Both with people they loved to protect. Both with wars to fight but this wasn't it, yet both equally as stubborn and unprepared to back down.
"Where is he?" his southern drawl hissed venomously into his ear to no avail. "You deaf boy? I said where is he?" a swift kick to the shin that was certain to have caused to it shatter, sent out a groan that Daryl knew would start alerting every walker in the nearest cell block their way. He hadn't time for foolish games. Who knew how much time either of them had?
"Who?" the boy's voice croaked and quivered as if he was back at the beginning of puberty, struggling to endure the pain that rocketed up and down his leg. Darryl rolled his darkened eyes and shook his head in disbelief before thrusting his face into his so that they were only inches apart. Hell he could even feel the boy's uneasy breath upon his skin, see the start of a shadow forming on his young features.
"That son of a bitch y'all call the Governor!" the words growled as his lips upturned into a wolf like snarl. The boy whimpered in response trying to be loyal to the very end but Daryl knew he was weakened from the paling of his sweaty skin. He could break him but he'd have to act soon. Keeping one arm applying pressure to his neck he drew his knife angling the point towards the Boys stomach, letting it dance across his skin, nipping hole into the material of his shirt as he went. Just the graze of the edge and the sound of the material tear beneath its touch was enough to make him start to twitch.
"He..." the boy stuttered, "He, he..." Daryl pressed the knife further, letting the blade dip below the surface of the skin. "He left. They helped him out of here."
The worlds stabbed sharper than any knife into Daryl's chest. Gone? Anger enraged every part of his being. It made sense. Getting his mindless drones to do his dirty work well he coward behind his select few. That was the poor excuse of a man that they were dealing with. A man with a god complex but scared of shadows.
"Who?" Daryl barked undeterred. He'd have their names on his hit list. Committed to memory. All of them, all those that would get in his way to help that megalomaniac monster. He'd have them at his feet, begging.
"A few of the guys, his main guys. They left. They brought us here to fight and left. "
"I want names!" He yelled yanking the boys colla, preparing himself to carve their names into the boys quivering flesh in fury.
It was working. She'd done it. Just like she'd thought the walkers had clustered around the barrel aimlessly clearing the gates. She could see them, successfully, only a couple of meters away from the car. The very sight flooded her with relief. She'd done good. Spinning to her side to call for Glenn and Carl she found that she was faced with nothing but the dead, the walking kind. Turning on her heels she looked in all directions, her heart fluttering frantically against her chest. They had been there just a few moments ago, only a few seconds behind her.
"Glenn? Carl?" she called, her lip quivering. "Glenn!" Her voice screeched causing the walkers she had successfully distracted to turn and start to stalk towards her, arms outstretched in her direction. Stumbling backwards, her foot twisted uneasily in some up turned earth, forcing her to the floor. Looking up at the thick dark clouds that carried over head, she felt the world spinning as the space around her began to cave in.
"Martinez. That's all. I don't know any other names, honest I don't!" The boy was begging now, the blade to his neck, piss down his leg. A sure fire mess and the sad truth of it all was that Daryl believed he was telling the truth. Hearing the deep, heavy moan of walkers approaching he cursed bitterly at the scene in front of him. The state of the boy. The way he had reacted. Withdrawing his blade he bowed his head.
"Go on!" Daryl grumbled swirling spit over his tongue before firing it from his mouth to the floor below. "Get!" the only killing his blade was going to see was that of walkers. Watching the boy scamper away, Daryl thrust his knife into the eye socket of an approaching female walker, showering him with spurting blood. Scraping the eyeball that was impaled upon the knife's point against the wall Daryl caught sight of the faint chalked arrows they had marked out previously. Taking a moment or two to get his bearings he realized he wasn't far from the main fences now. There was a door, a metal exit just a couple of corridors up, not far from the vehicles. His bike would be there and if the vehicles were gone he knew the others would be too. Hopefully alive.
This was it she thought to herself. This would be how she would die. Torn apart by walkers, limb by limb. Skin ripped from the bone, whilst organs dragged by claws and devoured. Water began to fill her heavy eyes, her vision clouding with tears. It was for the best, she decided. She didn't want to see their lifeless faces looming down upon her, licking their lips in anticipation, whilst she struggled to draw breath. She couldn't live with that being her last image of the world.
Forcing herself to clamber back to her feet she hissed, her ankle pulling tight sending a sharp pain searing through her leg as she hobbled over to the fence for support. Keeping her back against the wire she let her gun dangle limply in her hand. One bullet that was all she had left. It wasn't enough to do her any good against the walkers but it was enough to end the suffering, allow her to take control, and even if she didn't know much of what happened after, of where you went if anywhere she did know she'd be damned if she was going to come back as one of them.
Edging across the wired fence she let the end of her gun run over the gaps counting as she went. A couple of minutes that's all she had to find the courage. Her whole body trembled violently against the fence and she cursed herself for being such a coward. All she had to do was stop, take a deep breath. Let everything go quiet and place the gun to her head. All she had to do was pull the trigger. Then there would be nothing. All of it would stop. She wouldn't have to worry anymore, about anything.
The cold night's air hit him hard like a slap to the face as he burst through the already open door, his bloodied boots colliding straight into a mound of corpses. They had made their way out this way he was certain. One of them it seemed, he suspected Glenn, had mowed down a good two dozen or so walkers the remains of which laid slumped, sliced and shot, blood seeping out onto the soil like crimson streams.
Surveying the area with hawk like eyes he looked for further signs. To his left unlucky souls of the Governors army were cornered, still unprepared to meet their unfortunate end. To his right an oil barrel with bullets scattered at the floor. The sounds he heard earlier, he realized, stepping over the corpses and placing his hand back on his knife. Walkers were swarming in the opposite direction towards the fence where he could see a small cluster of his group filing into a running car, the sound of the engine had obviously drawn their attention. Looking further along he could see his bike. If he could get over the fence he'd be with them in a couple of minutes.
With the walkers occupied he took his chance, pounding along the ground towards the fence, slashing and slicing as he went. He told himself firmly that he could make it easily, that he'd get out of here and live to fight another day. Picking up his pace he dodged the bodies and the odd bullet that hurtled through the air from nameless enemies. Shaking his head to himself he wondered when it would be that the Governors men would realize they'd be better off saving the bullets for themselves. This place truly was a prison now.
Daryl scaled the fence with ease, it feeling all too familiar from his teenage years. Dropping to the earth below with a thud he crouched tiger like before sprinting off towards where the others had gathered. Running towards them with a smirk he squinted curiously as to why their own faces didn't hold a similar look of relief.
"What are y'all waiting for? Let's get out of 'ere!" He bellowed pouncing straight onto the back of his bike and revving it, adrenaline soaring through his veins whilst the powerful roar of his bike beneath him replaced the sound of his chaotic heart beat that echoed in his head. The silent response that followed sent a shiver up his spine to the soft patch at the base of his skull, chilling him. Hearing Maggie whimper hopelessly behind him he looked to Carol whose hollowed eyes rested back at the scene of the prison in over run chaos. Following her line of sight with his own squinting eyes he could just make out a petite figure backed firmly against the fence. A mass of tattered blonde hair and shaking bones, a gun held firmly to her head.
"Fuck!" Daryl cursed as his chest constricted sharply at the horror; breathing out her name it brushed ghostly across his lips and evaporated into the open air around them. "Beth!"