Sequel to Wolf in Sheep's clothing, please let me know what you think.
Thanks for reading.
Chapter 1
It had been almost three days since the attack and the flames had finally died down but several of the once luxurious homes were still smouldering. The smell of smoke and death was almost overwhelming as she made her way through the now abandoned town. She used the tip of her katana to poke at the debris that was once the house she had briefly called home. They had only been in this place a few short weeks but she had felt safe here, ready to believe they could be secure behind the high walls and strong gates. She couldn't believe how wrong she'd been.
As she turned away she caught sight of the motor cycle tucked against the wall, far away from any of the destroyed properties. Her heart sank at the sight of it and she felt the prick of unexpected tears. If he'd been able to ride it he would have taken it, she'd already noticed that the usable vehicles were gone, the bike the only one remaining. He wouldn't have left it behind willingly.
With a sigh Michonne moved towards the gate, running a hand over her eyes. There was no point staying any longer, there was nothing - or no one - left. Decapitating a few straggling walkers she moved silently into the forest, heading back to the dilapidated farmhouse where she had left Carl, Judith and Enid. She had no idea how to tell them their family was gone.
Rick stretched his aching back as he straightened up. He felt Jessie's hand on his arm as she tried to offer some comfort but there was none to be had. He was tired of losing people, tired of digging graves and saying goodbye. He saw Rosita and Tara clinging together as they grieved for the latest loss.
Abraham had been strong, he had fought with everything he had but the gunshot wound to his side had been too much. Without the proper medical care and a safe, secure place to rest and recuperate he hadn't stood a chance. It had taken two days for the former soldier to die, two days of agony, two days of Rosita clinging to him, doing what she could with nothing more than over the counter pain killers and a damp cloth. It had been a blessing when he finally gave up the fight, closing his eyes and drifting away in Rosita's arms as she sobbed quietly.
They had insisted on stopping the convoy so they could bury him. It had just been the group he'd travelled the roads with, Jessie the only exception, the others of Alexandria didn't know him well enough to be invited.
They took the pickup with his body wrapped in the back and found a secluded clearing, just out of sight of the road. Rick dug the grave, with Gabriel's help, and they lay him to rest. Glenn and Maggie had made a marker, lashing two branches together and stringing his military dog tags over it, his name carved crudely into the wood.
Once they had finished Abraham's funeral Maggie stepped forward hesitantly, another marker in her hand.
"Glen and I thought we should have a marker for Daryl. I know we don't have anything to bury but it don't seem right to not have some kind of memorial" her voice cracked slightly but she struggled on. Carol took her hand, her eyes moist.
"You're right" she said softly "He deserves something"
They set the marker into the ground and Gabriel said a few words before each of them said their own goodbyes and moved slowly away. Finally they returned to the rest of the convoy and continued their search for a safe place to stay.
It was cold when Daryl awoke, cold and dark and he hurt a lot. He felt a strange pressure on his face and tried to reach up but found his arms restrained. He lay still, taking deep breathes as he tried to calm his racing heart. Images of flames and smoke flashed into his head, of desperate clawing and gasping for air. He started to cough and couldn't stop, even though his throat felt like it was being ripped apart. Eventually the hacking passed and he managed to regain control of his shuddering body.
As he lay there the memories came back. He remembered being in the house when it was set alight, being surrounded by flames, the oxygen around him burning away, leaving him fighting to breathe. He found the small staircase and dashed down it into the kitchen, all the time looking for an escape. Suddenly an image of Eric had popped into his mind and a very boring hour spent listening to the man waffle on about the mechanics of an eco-house. He'd gone on about the wiring for the solar panels and the rainwater storage tank being under the house and that there was a way into this crawlspace via a trap door in the garage floor. He'd made it to the garage just as the staircase crashed into the entrance hall, sending sparks, burning debris and smoke his way. Slamming the door he stumbled around, scanning the floor until he found the small hatchway. Ripping it open he threw his crossbow down and dropped into the enclosed space.
The gap was about four feet deep, barely large enough for a man to move around in and ran under the entire ground floor of the property. Most of the space was taken up by a large plastic tank full of captured rainwater, a web of cables and wires running throughout the rest.
Pausing for a second to regain his bearings Daryl began to crawl towards what he hoped was the back of the house. Finally he found the edge of the structure, thanking a God he didn't believe in that it was wood and not brick. He wedged himself in the tiny space between the wall and the edge of the tank and began hacking at the planks with his knife. His eyes were streaming and his throat burning, the heat from the fire was blistering the exposed skin on his arms and neck as he finally managed to break through the wood and gulp in the cool, fresh air. He forced his fingers into the gap and pulled at the wood, desperately trying to widen the hole until big enough to squeeze through. Just when he thought he wouldn't make it he was through.
He dragged himself into the space under the veranda encircling the rear of the house, still hidden from the view of those outside. Half conscious and in agony he saw the men watching the back doors and windows. Using the thick, drifting smoke as cover he forced himself forward, dragging himself to his feet as soon as he was clear of the veranda. He managed to take a few stumbling steps, losing his grip on the crossbow as he fell to his hands and knees. He crawled away from the heat before his limbs gave out and he collapsed onto the cool grass of the yard. He didn't remember anything after that until waking up alone in the cold and dark.
There was movement in the darkness and suddenly a figure was looming at his side. As a hand gripped his chin and forced his head around, Daryl met cold dark eyes and heard the familiar mocking voice.
"Remember me?"
