AN: For those of you who wanted more, I've decided to provide. Don't thank me, just review, please! I do have mixed feelings about these last two chapters, but I'll leave you tell me what you think. All your lovely reviews and motivational PMs keep a nonprofessional writer like me inspired to write more. The last chapter was really long, so I decided to break it up into two parts. I think it might be auspicious ending at 5 chapters... Love to you all. -jb
Outside, their serenity is nearly shattered as they move into the dangerous heart of the city. The streets are like an obstacle course, littered with debris and clusters of the rotting dead who gather quickly like an angry mob with their thirst for fresh blood. It's impossible to travel in a straight line towards their destination. Swiftly, they stalk down the city streets like two panthers hunting their prey. Even on this overcast day, sweat coats them both making their skin shine from their efforts.
Like a true partnership, they take turns leading and backing each other up, using their non-verbal shorthand to communicate. Working in tandem, they press forward through the danger zones like an elite squadron, eliminating all threats until they make it to the hospital. The doors they reach first are chained tight, but they don't have a bolt cutter with them. As a result, they skirt the perimeter scouting for its vulnerabilities.
Closer to the lion's den, Daryl takes a protective lead, but he can't help but look back to make sure she's still following. They round the corner into the parking garage. Carol's struck by a sudden sinking sensation in her gut.
"I don't like this," she confesses and Daryl slows in reaction. "Maybe we should go back and get the others before we go in there with our guns blazing. We don't even know how many there are. We could be outnumbered."
He knows she has a valid point, but he wants to press in closer, to see what they're actually up against before he's willing to retreat. He continues to lead them up the garage ramp.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots movement on the adjacent rooftop before he hears the shots ring out.
"Get down!" he warns her before abruptly wrapping his arms around her and pushing her to the ground, shielding her with his body.
Narrowly missing them, the bullets spray across the wall above them and chunks of concrete rain down upon them covering them with a layer of white dust and rubble.
"You alright? You okay?" he asks worriedly, quickly examining her for injuries.
"I'm fine. You?"
Satisfied with her answer, he scans their immediate surroundings for additional threats.
"Just peachy," he grumbles sarcastically.
About twenty yards away, he notices a cluster of cars that could provide more protection or possibly an escape. All he can think about is getting her to safety.
"C'mon! We gotta go," he says grabbing her hand. They both scramble to get up. "Stay low."
They crouch along the wall, until they are out of sight of the shooter. Heading up the ramp towards the vehicles, they wind through the thralls of walkers attracted by the sudden disturbance taking out the immediate threats. He heads towards the vehicles with Carol close behind him. He tries a couple of cars, but the doors are locked and he doesn't want to break the glass and attract any more attention to them. Finally, he pulls the handle of a battered white van and it opens.
"Here," he calls to her. "Get in!"
Carol moves quickly and clambers into the van and over into the passenger seat. Daryl climbs in after her and cracks the steering column to gain access to the wires. His hands move deftly to find the right wires to cross.
Daryl breathes out a sigh of relief as the van starts quickly. Cranking the wheel, he breaks the steering lock like a professional.
"Better buckle up," he warns her as he reaches for his own seatbelt. "This ain't gonna be no Sunday drive."
Satisfied by the sound of her seatbelt clicking into place, he nods at her and releases the parking break. With his foot to the floor on the gas pedal, he peels out of the parking spot, steering around the undead which stagger across their path like a minefield. They sail down the curving slope towards the exit.
"Stay down!" he yells at her in anticipation.
She follows his instructions just as a hail of bullets trails the course of the van. He's looking out the windshield up towards the rooftops trying to find the source, but he can't see anything too clearly at the speed they are travelling at.
When they are out of immediate danger, Carol sits up. After a while, she sees the flash in the side mirror.
"Shit. We've got company," she tells him as she looks behind them through the windows in the back of the van.
"Shit," he says, agreeing with her conclusion and wishing that he had listened to her and turned them around when she first expressed her doubts.
Gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, he zigzags through the muddled city streets swerving around debris and random walkers shuffling mindlessly in the way. Sliding across a lake of crushed glass in the road, he suddenly loses control of the vehicle as the rear tire blows. He slams on the breaks, but it's too late, and the van hits the curb of the concrete island. The impact sends it airborne and hurling across the empty lanes towards the highway overpass. Luckily, the wheels catch on the guardrail and they aren't thrown below. But still, they come to a violent halt, saved only by their fastened seatbelts.
The engine sputters and dies. Teetering on the edge, they catch their breath. They look at one another, surprised to still be alive.
"You okay?" he asks when the shock fades.
"Never better," she jokes trying to rid him of that guilty expression he's wearing. Her ribs are bruised, but she's not going to tell him that. "How about you?"
"On top of the world," he retorts, taking in the view below.
The van sways slightly, then steadies. Simultaneously, they both release a breath, but are afraid to move too quickly, worried about throwing the balance off and tipping them forward. But they know they can't stay there, the sound of the crash is attracting walkers like fruit flies to sugar, and the car chasing them would catch up soon.
Very quickly, they both realize the only way out is through the back of the van. They look back and see the dead rapidly approaching them and then they look at each other.
"Whatever happens," he says looking in her fearful eyes.
"We're in this together," she replies grabbing his hand.
It's a vow that they both swear to. There is no time for heartfelt speeches now. He flashes her an apologetic smile hoping she understands that he's ruing the fact that he got them stuck in this jam. The only thing that prevents him from really laying into himself is that he's already told her how he feels. He's pleased with himself that he somehow finally found the balls to do it.
At least she knows.
Unbuckling his seatbelt, Daryl steps cautiously to the rear of the van to get a closer look. He opens the door and sees several nasty-looking walkers eagerly waiting for them to emerge. He pulls it closed while Carol unbuckles as well and moves into position beside him. She readies her AK-47.
"Ready?" he asks her.
She nods.
"On three then. One, two, three!"
At the same time, they kick open the back doors, knocking a few of the walkers to the ground. They shoot at anything that moves. Before long they've cleared the cluster of undead gathered there. But they have attracted every walker in the vicinity with the noise of the gunfire and they are heading towards them hungrily. They both hop down and sprint towards the nearest office building. They can hear the speeding car that was chasing them approaching the crash site, but they make it inside before it turns the corner. Without stopping, they make their way through the building lobby towards the rear entrance of the building.
"We should double back. Might throw them off. They'll think we've gone in the other direction," Carol suggests as they pause to catch their breath. He agrees and nods his approval. It sounded like a solid plan as any.
This time, he follows her lead as she creeps down the alley. Moving quietly, they stay close to the buildings.
"How many were there?" she inquires when they stop running long enough to catch their breath and hydrate themselves.
"Dunno," he says passing her the water bottle they've been sharing. "Hard to tell. Two, I think. And whoever's in the car."
"Could you see where they were shooting from?" She asks before taking a few sips and returning it to him.
He puts the cap on the bottle and stores it in his bag. "One by the garage looked like he was standin' over a fenced lot. They're guardin' it pretty heavily I'd say," he surmises, scratching at the scruff on his chin.
"But probably not the surrounding buildings?"
His brow arches in curiosity. "What are you suggestin'?" Daryl feels his stomach churn in anticipation.
"They're probably not expecting to be attacked from above."
He shakes his head and leans against the side of the building. "Might work for one, but without a silencer the others'll surely hear."
"Not if we split up. Sneak up on them."
It's not a valid option in his mind, and he quickly panics, pushing himself from the wall. The fear shoots from his stomach into his chest and out of his mouth before he has a chance to think about it. "We ain't splittin' up!" he barks, glaring at her angrily. "Together, remember?"
The sorry look on her face as she holds her hands up in surrender makes him regret the harshness of his tone immediately. "It's just a suggestion, Daryl." She reaches for his cheek, reassuringly. "We don't have to do that."
The feel of her gentle fingers caressing his rough skin begins to calm him. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a frustrated breath, willing his heart to slow its rapid pace. Opening them, he looks at her sheepishly. "M'sorry," he apologizes, leaning his forehead against hers. "Didn't mean to yell at you."
"I know. We'll figure out another way."
The fingers of his free hand find their way to the back of her head, weaving through her hair. He thinks about how he just got her back and how quickly consuming the fear of losing her again is. Sighing again, he's not ready to let go of her yet. Afraid she will pull away too soon, he holds her there while he inhales the earthy smell of her, hoping his fear will subside. It's new to him, this need to have her this physically close to him all the time. But the comfort of it brings him peace of mind because he knows she's safe. He used to think showing affection was a sign of weakness, but he's discovering it actually makes him feel stronger and rids him of his doubts. That he could lose her again is a thought he can't entertain. So he keeps breathing her in, letting the scent of her push away the worry, until all that's left is her.
He doesn't like himself when he loses his temper at her and makes a promise to himself to try harder not to do it again. As if sealing an oath, he presses his lips to her hairline before finally releasing her.
They can smell the herd of walkers before they even see it. Peeking around the corner of a high rise office building, they realize they'll have to go through the building to avoid it. Soon, they're running through an abandoned camp in a cluttered skyway. As they pass by empty tents and forgotten laundry hanging stiffly on a makeshift clothesline, they look out the row of windows and see the street below has become infested with walkers.