Story is set after the finale of season 3. Daryl X OC. I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Enjoy.


I had no idea where I was. My memory was blank. The woods around me were dark and sinister. I could hear walkers moving all around me, but I couldn't move my body to run or fight. The ground beneath me was cold and moist, the wetness seeping into my clothes and chilling my bones. I would have shivered if I wasn't afraid of making a noise. I couldn't defend myself against the approaching threat, so all I could do was lay still and hope nothing noticed me.

A foot stepped into my peripheral vision. It was bare and gnarled, one toe missing and the others broken. I rolled my eyes to see who the foot belonged to.

The walker beside me was tall and emaciated. His body was still relatively intact, all limbs remaining and functioning as they should. He was bald and grey, his jaw slack and crooked. He sniffed the air and searched the area with a sweep of his head.

He was looking for me. He could smell me.

That was when I felt the crustiness of my clothes. I couldn't look down to inspect myself, but I knew what it was. I was covered in blood. It was thick and smelled of rot. I knew it was walker blood. That might have been the only thing keeping me alive.

I couldn't remember why my clothes were soaked in walker blood, but as the corpses began mulling around the clearing where I lay, I was grateful for it. And as I lay in my bed of mud and leaves, I felt the ache. An ache that seemed to overtake me. It started in my feet, where the dirt caked my boots. Then it moved up my legs to my knees, where my jeans had been shredded. The ache traveled to my hips and belly, cold from the dewy ground. It crept up over my ribs, past my shoulders, up the back of my neck, and to my forehead. That was when I began assessing my true condition.

Tired feet, scraped knees, hips defined by starvation, a belly bruised and hungry, broken ribs, one dislocated shoulder, a sore neck, and a wet, bubbly gash above my left eyebrow. What the hell happened to me?

As the walkers continued filling the space around me, my body was overcome with pain. Coldness, and pain. I wanted to writhe, to scream, to lash out at these monsters just so they could feel my pain. But I knew they wouldn't. And I knew that if I moved or made a sound, I would be as good as dead. So I lay still and quiet, burying a pain that felt worse than death.

Minutes passed like hours. The walkers passed like slugs. Once in a while, one would kick me or stumble over me, and it was becoming harder and harder to stay motionless and silent. The horde kicked leaves up over me as they passed, hiding me from sight. I took a deep breath, realizing that I had been holding it for some time now. The stabbing pain in my chest reprimanded me, and I almost groaned. At this point, being eaten by zombies was sounding a lot nicer than lying in the state I was in.

Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, a walker bumped me, all but kicking me directly in my ribs. I cried out before I could stop myself. The sound of my scream echoed through the trees and bounced back to my terrified ears. My eyes were wide as I looked around at all the walkers, who had frozen in their places. They looked around, sniffing, snarling, growing even more agitated. I lay frozen, not even a breath in my throat. The corpse that bumped into me looked down at me, trying to figure out what I was. All I could do was stare up in horror through the leaves that covered me. My mind whispered prayers and goodbyes. My body hoped for a quick death. My eyes closed tightly.

A shout pulled the walkers' attention from me. They looked up through the trees. Two fell immediately with arrows in their skulls. A few growled and lunged at something out of my line of vision, but they were grounded quickly, heads split open.

My heart raced as one by one, the walkers were taken down. Five, ten, fifteen. I lost count as the last of the corpses fell limp to the muddy ground. The slaughter only took a matter of minutes. The walker that had kicked me had fallen over me with an arrow in its eye socket. I looked around to see the attackers.

Through the darkness, I saw a figure walk past the carnage. He was searching the corpses, kicking them with his feet and feeling their bodies for treasure. I watched him for a moment, determining what kind of danger he might be. I saw the silhouette of a crossbow in his hand and an ax at his hip.

What other chance would I get?

I tried to call out to him, but there was a lump in my throat. It was hard to breathe. I tried again, and my voice just wouldn't come out. The stranger started to walk away, having finished his search of the corpses. Panic rose in my belly. He was leaving. He didn't even know I was here. He was continuing on his merry way and I couldn't speak. I was going to die here under this rotten monster.

I gritted my teeth. Fuck it, I thought, and I dug my fingers into my bruised and battered hip. All at once, the force in my throat dissipated and the most beautiful scream I have ever heard flew from my lips. My body convulsed in pain, rustling the leaves around me. My scream faded, ending with a sob of agony. It took me a moment to open my eyes again.

Through my clouded vision, I could see that the man had stopped. He was looking around, his hand on the trigger of his crossbow. Slowly, he took a step back in my direction. But he still didn't see me. I had to try again.

"… please," I managed. It was quiet and strangled. I sounded pathetic.

"Who's there?" he called out. His crossbow scanned the butchery before him.

This isn't working, I thought. I knew I had to move. To show him where I was. Despite my pain, I had to. I took my right arm, since my left was trapped beneath the corpse, and lashed out through the leaves. The pain of my dislocated shoulder made me cry out again, whimpering pitifully.

The stranger walked over to where I lay. Using his big, muddy boot, he pushed the corpse off of me, unintentionally knocking against my broken ribs. For a third time, I howled in pain, gritting my teeth and hissing fiercely.

The man dropped his crossbow beside him and crouched down. He brushed the leaves off my body quickly, looking me over as best he could in the darkness. "Are you bit?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

I shook my head and gasped at the pain that shot through my neck. "I can't move," I whispered. My voice was forced.

"You're gonna have to," he said. He put one arm under my chest and one under my knees. "There's more coming." With one heave, he lifted me from my muddy bed.

To muffle my scream of agony, I buried my face in his shoulder, my teeth digging into his tattered t-shirt. My body became limp. Stars burst behind my eyes. My head spun. Before I knew it, my world went black once again.