Getting a bit of slow start here, guys, but please be patient!
Apologies for the short chapter; it's the curse of the Shipperwolf o.o
Enjoy, and let me know what ya'll think so far!
They kept to the highway, sticking together in small groups as they foraged around the abandoned cars. He could smell months-old rot in the vehicles as he passed them by, stinging his nostrils and preventing him from picking up on much of anything that could be considered edible.
Carol and T hovered behind him, checking the cars he paused at.
Daryl did not let his gaze linger on the mauled remnants of people hanging out the doors. He looked away when a severed leg, rotten down to the bone, came tumbling out of the station wagon Carol opened beside him.
Long since over whatever uneasiness she'd had with such things, the woman pushed the body aside and pulled out the large suitcase that was stuffed between it and the seat.
It clunked heavily onto the pavement and she unceremoniously dropped to her knees, rifle hanging loose off her back as she unzipped it to begin searching.
Daryl noted T-Dog looking at a truck nearby, looked past him to see Rick watching Lori and Carl close as they wandered their way closer to where they'd all left their own vehicles.
"No food, looks like. A lot of clothes though, and-" Carol's voice trailed below him, and Daryl looked down and tensed as she pulled out a very old-looking cloth doll.
As she stared, he could feel the air around them get thicker. His own throat clenched and he could smell the slightest hint of salt.
He moved quickly, on instinct, coming to rest a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.
She dropped the doll on the dirty road, moved fast to zip up the suitcase with a quiet rigidity.
Looked up at him, dry-eyed, before standing, adjusting her rifle, and pulling the handle of the case up toward him.
"Thing's pretty heavy. A lot of good clothes in here. Grab it for me?"
When she smiled, he caught the flash of sadness in her gaze.
Reaching down he brushed her fingers with his as he took the handle and lifted the case with weightless ease.
"Let's finish up here."
When he woke up, it was to a dim haze of low growls, stinking, dead flesh, and a constant, all-consuming agony.
Daryl ignored the burning of his skin and muscles, the steady, throbbing ache in his pulses and bones, and reacted instead to the panic of captivity, the clank of chains wrapped around his entire body weighing him down, keeping him confined to a small, dark space.
He forced back a shout of anger, a whine of pain and took in his surroundings.
The building he was in was dark, but the grayish-yellow of the setting sun through the wooden cracks of the walls, coupled with the barely-recognizable smell of hay told him he was in a barn.
He made the mistake of inhaling, just to be sure.
Daryl vomited instantly, the overwhelming stench of death, blood, and feces assaulting him and destroying his ability to control his stomach.
And then he heard the growls.
He froze.
Crawled on his hands and knees, backwards, away from the similarly chained creatures that stood, crouched and lay across the barn from him. His back hit the thick wooden beam he was attached to and he heaved, the growls and snarls building in volume until he could hear nothing else, imagine nothing else, and the pain, searing now, caused him to double over onto the dirt floor and gag in desperation.
He set the suitcase on the small table in the RV for Carol and the other women to rifle through, Carol herself coming in behind him to quietly squeeze past him to the bathroom. When she closed the door without so much as a look his way, he stood awkwardly, waited for the sound and smell of her actually using the toilet, and slipped down into the little booth surrounding the table to wait for her to emerge.
A few seconds later, the scent of urine dissipated and Carol came out, looked up from the floor at him with a blink of surprise.
Outside, Rick was gathering the others to get dinner prepared as quickly as possible so they could move on for the day.
When Carol craned her head questioningly, he inhaled deep, smelled the sweat on her skin, the smoke from their breakfast fire, and the twinge of anxiety that seemed to seep from her pores.
He jerked his head upward, wetting his lips before rasping out,
"Gonna take watch while I eat. Wanna join me?"
He felt his breath release from his lungs with an achy shudder when she smiled at him again, much softer and wider than she had on the road. She relaxed visibly, reached down to pick up her rifle from its place propped against the counter.
"Sounds good."