"Shit." Daryl muttered under his breath. "Talk about being between a fucking rock and a hard place."
"Hold on… This isn't over yet." Glenn pointed- across the street about three buildings down, there was an intact fire escape leading to the roof. "We haul ass down the street and get up that ladder. We'll be safe up there, at least."
"Alright. Get ready to run." Daryl shouldered his crossbow, pulling his hatchet out instead.
The two bolted across the street, booking it for the fire escape. The walkers noticed them immediately, turning sluggishly as the men approached. Without hesitation, Glenn slammed his Louisville slugger straight into the nearest one's forehead. It dropped like a sack of bricks.
Cutting a swath through the geeks, Daryl and Glenn didn't stop moving once. Glenn reached the ladder first, and started the climb. Daryl followed close behind, breathing raggedly as he pulled himself up the rungs. Below them, the dead gathered.
When they reached the top of the roof, both men collapsed bonelessly, out of breath and exhausted. After a moment, Daryl finally managed to gasp, "What… the fuck… did you DO?"
Glenn grimaced. "I, uh, wasn't paying attention."
The two men had come to Atlanta for a routine supply run. Of course, routine these days meant that anything could (and usually did) go wrong at any moment. When shit hit the fan, Daryl had been waiting nearby, ready to cover Glenn at a moment's notice as the kid searched for the supplies on their list.
"I came out of the pharmacy and there was a '66 Mustang convertible sitting right there. I just wanted to look inside, I swear. But I must have brushed against it or something, and the alarm… well…" He shrugged helplessly, and waited for the berating that would no doubt follow.
When none came, Glenn glanced over at Daryl and noticed the man clutching his leg, a pained expression on his face.
"Holy shit Daryl, did one of them get you?" he gasped, as he scrambled over to the older man's side.
Daryl spoke through gritted teeth. "No, idiot. Got a damn leg cramp."
Glenn's breath whooshed out of his in a relieved sigh. "Dude, you had me worried. I thought you got bit by a crawler or something. Here, stretch your leg out."
Daryl waved him away. "I'm a damn adult, I can take care of myself."
The kid threw up his hands, backing up. "Fine, suit yourself. Stubborn asshole."
"If you been more careful, this clusterfuck wouldn't have happened in this first place!"
They glared at each other angrily. "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't think. It was a mistake."
"That doesn't make me feel better, kid."
Glenn snorted. "If you listened to me and let me help you, you WOULD feel better."
"Fine. Whatever. Help me out."
"What was that?"
"...Help me. Please. This sucks."
