A/N - Thank you to those who have taken time to review Saints&Arrows, it means a great deal to me to know what the readers think!
I have gone back on my word a little with the 'how I write what the twins say', I have just decided to say the lines in my head as I write them, and let what sounds/feels comfortable be put into my writing. So ta for to, ya for you etc...
Enjoy!
Lx
Georgia
"Get down!" Daryl hissed at the girl, noticing one of the walking dead behind the counter in the store. Lorna hit the floor silently and carried on heading towards the tents, only now she was crawling there. Daryl rolled his eyes, stay still doll he told her in his head. He got as low to the ground as he can before following her lead.
"I've got them," she whispered so quietly that Daryl only understood when he saw the tents folded up in her arms. He flashed her a smile, giving her view of his straight, white teeth.
"I'm impressed." He spoke loudly as he stood up straight. He wanted the dead to hear him, and his plan worked. The foul looking monster reared its ugly head, taking a step towards Daryl. He took aim with his Horton and brought the walking dead down with a fast bolt to its head.
Lorna rose too and grabbed some supplies she thought would be useful whilst the hunter retrieved his arrow from the corpse's skull, the arrow made a disgusting squelching sound as Daryl pulled it out.
They nodded to one another and made their way back to the truck.
"You want me to drive?" Lorna asked with concern in her voice, she had noticed how tired and unwell the man looked, "No offence, but you look like shit."
Daryl snorted, his eyebrows raising, "Gee thanks doll," he started, "Suppose you're right, my heads up my ass, fucking hangover on the worst day possible." They both chuckled as they switched sides in the truck.
Lorna started the vehicle up, checking the rear mirror out of instinct, only to be welcomed back by an empty dust road. Where was everyone? There had to be more living people than just her and Daryl.
"So, you had a drink last night? I didn't see you in the bar. You found yourself a better spot?" she asked, a small mischievous smile gracing her lips.
"Was having a quick one after work at home, heard this fucking weird radio broadcast, needed several more bottles after that." He groaned as his headache cried out at him.
"Such a shame I couldn't be there, you're very entertaining when you're drunk." She teased.
"Hey! Nothing wrong with winding down after a hard day on the farm." He grinned.
"He calls it winding down, I call it falling asleep on the bar." She mused.
Daryl blushed, obviously still embarrassed about stretching out on the top of the bar and dropping to sleep.
"Well that was a one-off." He smirked.
The sudden pop of a tyre brought the pair out of their relaxed state, the truck was skidding across the road and Daryl watched on as Lorna tried to control the vehicle. It all played out in slow motion; the truck rolling into the grass, the girl's panic stricken screams, and then the silence.
The silence; she had stopped crying out. She sat in the upturned truck, her body lifeless, blood trickling from her head.
Please don't let her be dead…
Daryl shuffled in his seat, trying to grab the girl's wrist. He sighed in relief as he felt the faint throbbing of her pulse.
"Lorna! Come on girl, wake up." He shook her gently, but she didn't respond.
"Shit!" He hissed.
He squirmed out of his seat and managed to drag himself out of the passenger side. The pain in his leg was almost unbearable, but getting the girl to safety was his main priority. He prized her door open; her head rolled a little as it had been against the door. He lifted her out, thinking twice and deciding to grab his work bag which now also included the supplies from the store.
"Don't worry doll, I'm not gonna let you die."
It was then that he heard an engine behind him; another vehicle was pulling up several metres back. Daryl growled and made a mental note that his revolver was in Lorna's back jean pocket if he should need it. He swallowed his pride and realised that he really needed these stranger's help, or the helpless girl in his arms might not make it.
A pale man with spiked blonde hair exited the blue people carrier first. He was quickly followed by a paler man with dark, messy hair. The last person to climb out was a Hispanic man with long dark hair, pushed back with a bandanna.
"Yer need some help over there?" The blonde man spoke with a heavy irish accent.
Daryl nodded, realising he needed to speak up, "Yeh, our trucked rolled, I can't wake her up." He yelled over.
The blonde Irishman began to approach the hunter at a quickened pace. The darker haired man next to the blonde followed him. Daryl noticed the men were wearing the same clothes; dark wash jeans and black tee-shirts, which was a little weird. Then he noticed the leg holsters containing the Berettas.
"Is she bleeding?" The blonde asked, trying to get a look at the girl as he drew closer.
"Yeh, from her head I think." Daryl replied his eye still laid on the weapons attached to them.
"You got any rags, bandages, spare clothing?" the darker haired man asked.
"Yeh, they're in here." Daryl laid Lorna down gently on the grass, turning to his work bag as he started looking for the clean shirt he knew was in there, somewhere.
He stopped as he noticed the first aid kits in his bag. Lorna must have grabbed them back at the hunting store.
He handed the blonde man the first aid kit, along with his spare shirt. The man took them and crouched down besides the unconscious girl.
"What's her name?" he asked Daryl.
"Lorna" he replied, the panic in his voice was very noticeable now.
"Hello, Lorna? Can you hear me darling?" He spoke to the girl as he checked out the graze to her forehead. He decided to clean the cut with some alcohol wipes and applied a gauze pad with some bandage tape.
"The cut isn't too deep, just superficial. It won't need stitches. I think she's just knocked out from the impact of the crash." He told Daryl.
Connor looked back down to the girl and tried waking her with some light shaking to her shoulders.
"Come on Lorna, can you open your eyes for me?"
Lorna's eyelids flickered open as she slowly regained her sight. She was dazed and confused, looking up into a stranger's face; and what a beautiful face it was. She didn't know this man and should have been afraid; but she couldn't help but feel safe when she looked into his soft blue eyes. The man gave her a handsome smile then got to his feet.
"She's awake." He announced.
Daryl's was the next face to come into her view; he looked upset, but also relieved.
"Hey you," he smirked, "gave me quit a scare you know."
"Hey," she croaked, her head was searing with pain as she spoke, "what happened?"
"Tyre blew on the truck, sent us rolling. Wasn't your fault." He assured her, caressing her chin with his thumb. He had done that subconsciously, and then snapped his hand back feeling a little embarrassed afterwards.
Lorna's first reaction was to sit up, she felt a little disoriented and the pain in her head still throbbed. She had a strong feeling she was probably concussed, great that's all I need, her own annoyed voice spat in her mind. She took a look at the three new people surrounding her.
"Who are these people Daryl?" she asked her friend, quite aware that they could hear her; she tried not to sound too rude.
The blonde man from a moment earlier spoke first, "Me name's Connor. The dark-haired little shit there's me brother, Murphy," the man stood not too far away from Connor nodded at Lorna, giving her a friendly wink and a small smile, "and this is our boy Romeo, he's a close friend of my brother and me." The long-haired man who hadn't spoken a word to her yet stepped away from their car and made his way over to the rest of them.
"Nice to meet ya miss." He too gave Lorna a small, polite smile.
Lorna acknowledged each introduction with a smile and a nod, before trying to stand up. That turned out to be a bad move, as she staggered on her weak legs, falling into Connor's chest.
"Whoa steady on lass, gotta take it nice and slow after that nasty bump." He spoke with his thick accent. Lorna steadied herself using the Irishman's arms.
"You're a long way from home aren't you?" She eyed the two brothers.
"We moved over to Boston from Ireland just over ten years ago looking for work," Connor caught his brother's gaze and smirked, "Ya can take the man out of Ireland, but you can't take the Irish out of him." Both Murphy and Lorna snorted at the blonde.
Daryl looked skeptic of three strangers; sure they had helped him and his friend out, but he knew nothing about them. They could be cold-blooded murderers for all he knew. He cleared his throat, attracting their attention.
"Are you heading anywhere in particular?" he asked.
"Aye, we met a man who said to head for Brunswick. He heard the Navy were hauling ships of survivors out of here. Thought we'd try our luck, you never know right? You're welcome ta join us." Murphy explained, his face looked hopeful of a way out of this mess.
"So, are we close, to this Brunswick?" Connor added, scratching his nose.
"It's about a couple of hours drive from here, so yeah, pretty close." Daryl said.
Lorna thought for a minute. She knew Daryl made a great survivalist with his hunting skills and love for the land, but she couldn't shake the urge of wanting to join the men in the hope to find a way out of their situation.
"Daryl, can I have a word?" she murmured.
Daryl stepped to one side with Lorna a questioning look written on his face.
"I think we should go with them." She blurted out, in the lowest voice she could manage.
Daryl stood in thought for a moment before nodding.
"I agree, we should look for Military or someone in authority. Just we don't know these people Lorna. I'm grateful for the Irishman patching you up, but we don't know these people." He whispered.
"Everything's different now Daryl. We need to trust them, we have no other choice, we have no other place to go." She finished her sentence in a low hiss.
"You're right. Fuck it, let's go with them. If they try anything though, we leave straight away; I've got you to look out for now." He smiled softly. "You know, you really did scare me back there. I thought I was gonna lose ya," he tried to cover his tracks with, "yer daft idiot."
The pair finally stepped back up to the three men, who were all still stood in silence.
"We'd be happy to join you, thank you." Lorna smiled graciously.
The wide smile on Connor's face was hard to miss as he clapped a hand on Lorna's shoulder, "Well come on then, we got ourselves a ship ta board!"
The drive to Brunswick didn't take long. Daryl's truck was well and truly too damaged to drive, so with no other choice, the pair piled into the people carrier with the others, not before syphoning the remaining fuel from the truck's tank. Lorna and Daryl sat in the middle of the vehicle, the twins at the front with Murphy driving, and Romeo at the back. The Irishmen were rather talkative, which Lorna welcomed; she hated awkward silences, so she listened to their tales of back in Boston a look of genuine interest on her face.
The coastline was becoming visible, and everyone craned their necks, in hope of spotting big ships, boats, even just another person.
"Let's get out and take a closer look on the beach." Romeo spoke.
Their fears were confirmed as they walked across the sand; there was nothing there for them. The sea was uninhabited; the beach was a ghost town too.
"It was worth a try." Connor murmured, his brother looked pissed off.
"Fuck it! Now what?" Murphy yelled, kicking at the damp sand.
The group just looked in silence at each other for a moment, debating in their thoughts on what the new plan was.
A faint groaning across the beach broke their train of thought; Lorna turned her head, noticing the lump on the sand in the distance.
"Is that one of those biters?" Romeo asked Connor.
Murphy whipped out his gun from its holster on his leg in a long fluid motion,
"I'll take care of it." He growled.
He began to stride across the beach, his arm stretched out, gun in hand. Lorna noticed how confident and at home he looked with the weapon in his hand; she suspected he was carrying that thing around way before the dead started walking.
Murphy needed to release some steam, after their discovery of fuck all in this god forsaken place. He had offered to check out the dead bastard and he planned on having fun putting a bullet in its brain. He took aim as he closed in on the pile laid on the floor. His eyes widened as it struck him; the 'biter' was in fact a woman, reaching her hand up to him. The proof she was living came when she feebly whispered. "Help me," before blacking out.
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