AN: Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed! I hope you all continue enjoying where this is going. I'm sorry for the delay in between chapters, but I fiddle with them quite a bit :)

Disclaimer - the usual - I don't own TWD and make no money off of this.

No Way but Forward

Merle was pegging the Walkers off, one by one, from his vantage point and from the guard tower, Carl was quickly and systematically taking them out. Gunshots from inside the prison signalled that the tombs were overrun.

As he rode up towards the cell yard, Daryl knew that like its predecessor Plan A, Plan B was shot to hell.

"Time for plan fuckin' C," he muttered to himself as he swerved the bike to avoid the biter that turned towards him and tried to block his path. Pulling the gun from his waist band, he took the biter out as he raced towards the cage.

Towards Carol.

"Carol?! Glenn?!" he hollered as he slid, tires screeching and engine sputtering, to a stop in front of the cage. He jumped from the bike, turning to jam his knife into a geek's eye as he backed up against the chain link. "Let me in!"

Carl targeted the Walkers closing in on Daryl, buying him some time.

"Daryl!"

At the sound of her voice, Daryl's heart instantly slowed. She was alive. His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath, immediately calming down. She was there and she was ok.

"Open the cage!" he ordered and in her panic, Carol fumbled briefly with the lock and then it clicked and the door swung open. Daryl stumbled, backing in and slammed it shut. He turned and looked her over quickly. There was no time to say what he wanted to say, it seemed there never was the time or the right moment. A thorough glance showed him she was terrified and exhausted; but most importantly, she wasn't hurt. He squeezed her shoulder briefly and nodded. It was all he could give her.

"Glenn? Maggie?" he barked out as he shouldered past her towards the cell block.

"The prison's overrun. They're pinned down in the loading dock area where the truck is," she explained.

He looked down at her. "Then why are you –" his gaze caught on Beth, barred into a cell with the baby and supplies. He looked back at Carol and nodded as the situation became clear. If they were here, and Glenn and Maggie were out back…

"Where's Hershel?"

Carol's eyes glistened with unshed tears and she shook her head once, sharply.

"Damn," he muttered, looking back at Beth. Locked in the cell with formula and supplies, the girl was the safest out of all of them; and the most terrified. As if sensing the danger, and the fear and terror of the woman holding her, baby Judith was whimpering softly. "We gotta get outta here," he murmured. "Is everything packed up?"

Carol nodded and watched as he grabbed his bag and extra arrows. "As soon as they started coming through the front gate, we grabbed everything we could and put them in the truck. But then they started coming through the loading area and then from inside the prison. And - and Hershel…" she stopped, overwhelmed by the memories. "I decided to put them there in the cell with enough supplies to last in time for you and Rick to come back. Just in case we didn't – we didn't -"

Daryl nodded and grabbing his poncho, stuffed it into his bag. "Is ok." He turned to Beth. "Stay put, you're safer here." He looked down at the baby and frowned. "We'll figure this out and we'll be back for you."

Beth nodded, her eyes wide with fear, and she held the baby closer to her chest.

Daryl turned and stared down at Carol. Her smoky grey eyes were wide and in their depths he read the fear and the desperation. But he also saw strength and a flicker of hope. "You gotta go back into the cage and help Merle and Carl clear out that yard. Rick's on his way and I'm gonna go and help Glenn and Maggie." He wanted to touch her, to give her more than words and directives. There were so many things he wanted to say, to do – but there just never seemed enough time to say 'em or do 'em, never mind say and do 'em right.

But perhaps that light of hope flickering in her eyes was the signal that despite all the things that remained unsaid between them, all the things that went undone, she knew. She nodded, her gaze searching his and what she saw there must have reassured her because she smiled. She unlocked the cell block door, letting him through, and locked it behind him. He stared at her one last time through the bars, and then he nodded towards the cage, turned and walked into the darkness of the tombs.


It didn't take long for Daryl to come across the bodies. "I hope these fuckers are really dead this time," he muttered as he hurriedly stepped over them. A messy pile in a corner with a crutch sticking out gave him pause. He cursed under his breath, wishing he had been there, wondering if perhaps the old man would still be around. It just wasn't right, none of it was. But this, this pile in a corner, was no way for Hershel to go. "Damn it," Daryl murmured. One more regret, another loved one down. But this one would have no grave; there would be no time to bury him with any dignity.

Daryl reached down and gently touched the crutch, like a touchstone or a cross that could give him some luck. Then he hurried forward, deeper into the tombs.

"Glenn?!" he hollered as he burst through the door into the loading dock area. Maggie turned towards him, her eyes widening in relief.

"About time you showed up!" Glenn shouted without taking his eyes off the side yard. He aimed his gun through a broken window pane and carefully fired.

"My invitation must 'a got lost in the mail," Daryl replied as he stepped up to the window and stared through the bars. Biters in civilian clothes, as well as former inmates and guards, were milling through a break in the fence. More crawled through a smouldering hole and over a pile of rubble in the wall that had once separated the prison's loading and supplies area from another cell block yard. In the meantime, their truck, piled with supplies, sat in the middle of the loading area, facing out, ready to go. Daryl could see bags of flour and cases of canned goods, as well as guns. Everything of value that they had was on that truck and it was overrun with Walkers; they poured over the downed fence and broken wall like roaches. "Where the fuck they comin' from?"

"Rest of the prison and some the governor had bussed in for the occasion," Glenn explained. He aimed at an elderly woman in a flowered dress. "It's like a 5 o'clock blue plate special in Palm Springs."

Glancing at Maggie, Daryl noted the tracks of dried tears that had streaked through the sweat, dirt, and blood on her face. The girl's eyes were haunted. "I'm sorry about your pa."

She nodded, biting her bottom lip, fighting back the tears. She took in a deep, ragged breath and nodded again. "We have to get to that truck and get out of here."

"Plan fucking C," he muttered, pissed off that they had to give up the prison. But he'd figured it would happen eventually. He'd known that unless the Governor was dead, there was no way he'd ever leave them alone – Michonne or no Michonne. But it pissed Daryl off that they were being forced to leave the prison, that it wasn't on their own terms. He didn't like losing. He looked back at the window - definitely looked like they were losing. At this rate they would be lucky if they made it out of the prison alive. "Merle, Carl, and Carol have the front covered," he explained. "We could just go back and make a run for it."

"On what? All of us piled on your bike?" Glenn pointed out bitterly.

"Rick's on his way back."

Glenn shook his head. "We are not leaving without that truck!" he bit out.

"Then we gotta make a break for it, get to the truck, and drive it around to the front yard and pick up the others," Daryl pointed out. He understood Glenn's frustration. He didn't want to spend another winter living on the fringes of starvation; what was in that truck could mean life or death to most of them – baby Judith in particular.

"Beth and Judith?" Maggie asked fearfully.

Daryl nodded. "Good. Locked in a cell with days of supplies waitin' to be rescued. She'll outlast 'em all." He glanced around the supply room. "Any of the guard vests?"

Maggie shook her head. "Truck."

Frowning, he muttered something under his breath and then began a thorough search of what was left. There had to be something useful. As he kicked at some garbage and some wooden pallets, he spotted a roll of duct tape and an idea began to form.

"I'm gonna make a run for it," he stated. He picked up a pallet and began prying off some of the looser wooden slats. Grabbing the duct tape, he began taping the slats together in the shape of a shield, with some tape as a grip. "You're gonna have to cover me." When he was done, he used the rest of the duct take to tape his arms and his neck, giving him an extra layer of protection from the scratches. If he could avoid the bites, he sure as hell didn't want to get done in by a small scratch.

"Daryl, don't," Glenn said, pausing to turn around. In the sudden silence of the ceasefire, they could hear the Walkers pounding against the garage door. "You'll never make it."

"I ain't leaving that truck behind." He knew it was stating the obvious. "Winter's comin'. We ain't gonna make it without those supplies."

He handed his crossbow to Maggie. In a crowd of Walkers it would only be a liability. Immediately he felt vulnerable, and an insidious hint of doubt trickled in, but he fought it back and hefted the makeshift shield up, testing its weight and stability. It was going to slow him down somewhat, but he hoped it would protect him from the worse of it. "Glad I watched all those American Gladiator shows with my pa," he said and forced a half-cocked smile.

Maggie's mouth dropped and Glenn's eyes widened as realization dawned.

"That's all you're going in with?" he asked. "You're nuts."

"It's not going to work," Maggie whispered. "Daryl, don't do this. It's not worth it." But he could tell by her tone that she didn't really believe that.

He pushed past her, letting the shield push her out of the way. "Get outta my way," he said. "It'll work fine if you two do your jobs and cover my ass." He dragged more pallets over to the door and kicked out a couple of slats. He leaned two against the door, leaving a spot in the middle. "You guys need to lay down and have your guns ready to shoot through these gaps here," he pointed to where he'd pried the slats off. "When I open the door, just keep shooting, sweep right across and take as many down as you can. I'm going in and then you fuckin' shut this door and hurry your asses to the window and give me some cover fire. Clear a path to the truck."

Glenn shook his head. "I'm going on record that it's a crazy plan."

"So was covering yourself in biter guts and walking through a crowd of 'em and that worked," Daryl reminded him.

Glenn stared at him, remembering, and then nodded. "Good point."

Daryl took out his gun and checked the clip to make sure it was loaded and he patted his side, feeling his hunting knife. "When I get to the truck, I'll drive it around to the front gate. You two get to Carol and make sure y'all are ready to go." He grabbed the handle to the garage door and glanced at Glenn. "I make it, you owe me a drink. Now get down!" Then, with a grunt, he pulled up on the door handle.