A/N: I promise this was finished before I even posted chapter one. So no worries about me having four works in progress, haha. When ideas hit me and I have nowhere to put them... well, this happens.

Beth was now tied standing to a tree courtesy of Shumpert as she was forced to watch the three men work together to lower Daryl's unconscious body into a hole that looked much similar to a grave after having tied his ankles and wrists. The hole didn't appear to be nowhere near as deep as the one Beth had fallen into but it was certainly deep enough, fear swelling in her chest as she bit her lip and struggled against the ropes binding her. She had no way of escaping and she had no way of helping Daryl.

Daryl's crossbow and knife lay next to what Beth assumed to be a lid to a wooden crate big enough for a body; a makeshift coffin. Martinez and Shumpert climbed back up and handed down the lid before Martinez grabbed the hammer that was lying there as well, passing it down to the Governor.

Beth started thrashing once her mind finally pieced it all together. "Stop! Don't! Leave him alone!" These men were sick. The Governor was sick. They were burying Daryl alive.

No matter how much of a fuss Beth threw, neither of the men met her eyes. They wholeheartedly ignored her pleas as they watched their Governor hammer down the nails, Beth having to listen. There were only four in total, most likely one placed in each corner, but it was bad enough.

The Governor climbed back out of the hole now, brushing his pants off. He smiled over at Beth, "Wouldn't want your friend waking up too soon." He grabbed the shovel that was stuck in the ground and started piling the dirt back into the hole of which it originally came from.

Beth felt the tears stinging her eyes, the warmth traveling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin as her thrashing slowly came to a stop. All she could do was watch helplessly.

It was a few minutes later when she jumped at the sudden banging that erupted followed by muffled yelling.

The tears came faster as Beth cried harder. "Please! You can't do this! He'll die!"

The Governor only looked over at her. "That's the point. And the more he panics, the faster he'll go. He's got the right idea." And he went right back to finish shoveling.

Beth hadn't thought about it but he was right. And she hated that there was nothing she could do but cry, watch, and listen.

Daryl beat his fists against the wooden plank above him in desperation. The darkness and claustrophobia was sinking in and had been from the moment he regained consciousness. The creaking and bowing of the wood from all angles didn't help to ease him either. He tried to calm himself down before he ended up hyperventilating.

He beat his fists against the wood above him one last time, the wood only splintering slightly, not nearly enough for Daryl to try and really pry his way out. But it was enough for some of the dirt to filter though and cover his face as he shook his head, spitting and sputtering to keep the dirt out of his mouth and nose. Only once he felt the dirt stop filling in at such a heavy rate did he dare open his eyes again—not that he could see a damn thing.

He didn't know where Beth was or if she was even still alive. He had no clue if there was even any chance that the others would find him on time. He really didn't know much of anything other than he was screwed. He wished he at least had an idea of whether or not anybody could come to the rescue on this one. If there was a possibility, then he needed to try and remain as still and calm as possible. He probably used up a good portion of oxygen in the vain struggles he had already produced. He'd keep trying if he knew no one was coming.

Daryl rested his hands against his chest and shut his eyes since he had no other option. He couldn't break the rope. His knuckles were throbbing and his hands were shaking something fierce. He could feel the warmth of his blood running and dripping down the backside of his hands.

How long would he last before someone could find him? Was it even possible to be found? He had no clue what his chances were but they weren't looking too great. He'd die from lack of oxygen and buildup of carbon dioxide.

Then he'd literally rise from the dead.

The Governor stabbed the shovel back into the dirt before he sauntered over to Beth as she writhed against the tree. He stopped just short of her. "The way I see it, you have two options. You can scream and hope someone hears you that can help, but you risk bringing the biters down on you sooner. Or you can remain quiet and biters will eventually find you. Your call really." He shrugged, "Either way, the odds aren't looking too good for him." He nodded his head back towards the fresh dirt before providing Beth with a smug smirk.

Beth remained stationary trying to look anywhere but back at him. Her eyes landed on the spot Daryl had just been buried and she felt her stomach coil.

A rough hand grabbed her just under the chin causing her to flinch before she realized it was the Governor. He leaned in closer to her as she could feel his hot breath on the side of her neck. "You tell your people I'll be coming for them."

The Governor leaned back a bit, removing his hand from her chin and trailing the backside of his fingers down the length of her face, brushing her hair back with a grin. Beth tore her stare away from him and shuddered as more tears pricked at her eyes. Thankfully he backed off, retreating with Martinez and Shumpert. They left the shovel as well as Daryl's weapons right where they were and they kept walking until they disappeared out of sight.