Chapter 9: Disappear

After the morning's heart to heart, Daryl decided to go do a little hunting while Rick attended to a matter concerning the Woodbury folk. Daryl knew he probably wouldn't see Rick for the remainder of the day, and since he didn't particularly want to spend time around anyone else, he figured now would be the perfect time to try and scrounge up another night's meal in the form of squirrel or wild rabbit.

Daryl grabbed his bowie knife and his trusty crossbow, slinging the strap over the shoulder of his angel-wing vest, and once again stayed to the outer perimeter of the prison, doing everything possible to become invisible to any others who happened to be out and about.

He wandered farther into the forest that day than he usually would, having found no trace of animals any closer to the building. His footsteps were silent against the fallen leaves and dirt that made up the forest floor, crouching low to the ground to check for animal prints marking the pathways.

As he delved deeper into the heart of the woods, he came across a new set of footprints. They looked to have been made by combat style boots, and whoever it was hadn't pussyfooted through the forest like common sense would have suggested. Daryl was immediately on edge, his senses pricking up to alert him to anyone trying to sneak up on him. This person could be one of the Governor's soldiers, which would make sense considering their war hadn't been all that long ago. No doubt the asshole had recruited others to help him out, and of course they would be all brawn and no brain; those were the ones who wouldn't backtalk.

Daryl stopped near a large tree, getting his bearings together. The other's footprints seemed to be leading farther into the forest rather than towards the prison, so maybe it wasn't one of the Governor's cronies after all. It could just be a new survivor, lost in the woods, wandering around scared. Or it could be a walker who happened to have been wearing boots at the time of his death. It never hurt to be paranoid, though, Daryl had learned early on.

A bird's call sounded somewhere above him in the trees, and his head swiveled in the direction the noise had come from. As his head turned he heard something else, like a faint whistling resounding over a long distance, and then a dull pinprick in the back of his neck.

It was probably nothing more than one of the pesky mosquitos that never seemed to leave the area. Daryl reached up to brush the insect away, but his arm seemed to move slower, as if he were underwater. His mind clouded, wondering why there were mosquitos underwater in the first place. His vision swam before his eyes, one never-ending blur of green, with the occasional splotch of brown. He felt himself starting to fall forward, down into the depths of water he could swear he was swimming in, and his last coherent thought was fear that he would drown if he couldn't wake up enough to swim to the top.

It was near to sunset by the time Rick made it back to his group over in C Block. He paused a moment to marvel over the way the dimming sun threw pink light over the bricks and stones and bars, and made the prison seem almost like a thing of beauty. He smiled to himself as he walked along, his mind filling with Daryl's face and the way his blue eyes shimmered in this light.

Rick was deluding himself with fantasies of a semi-naked Daryl as he rounded the corner to his group's cropping of cells. He skidded to a stop once the look on everyone's face hit him, and he instantly knew something was wrong. Someone was missing, and everything in him screamed for it to please just not be Daryl. But as he quickly took account of those around him, his worst fears were confirmed: Daryl wasn't there.

"Where's Daryl?" Rick asked anxiously, his eyes skipping from face to face and finding the same question residing in all of them.

"He should have been back by now, since it's getting dark. Maybe he just managed to track down a deer?" Carol piped up from beside Beth, the two of them holding and feeding Judith like doting mothers; Rick would almost have preferred Daryl taking that job for the rest of their inevitably short lives, since the girl loved him so much.

Carol remembered the first time Daryl had managed to hunt down a deer, back in Atlanta. It had taken him at least three hours to corner it and shoot an arrow or two in its flank, and if he'd caught on to one in this area it could take much longer considering the expanse of vegetation and the overpopulation of walkers.

"I guess that's possible, except for the fact that he's been gone for nearly eight hours. Doesn't seem like Daryl to have to track something that long, and he'd be keeping an especially sharp eye on the color of the sky during this time." Rick shot Carol's suggestion down harshly; he didn't mean to hurt the woman's feelings, but the ball of stress that had knotted itself into his stomach was putting him on edge.

"You think something happened to him?" Glenn asked from where he perched next to Maggie.

Rick nodded solemnly. He knew Daryl well enough to know that even if he had tracked down a deer he would be back before sunset, or at least nightfall, no matter what.

"I'm sure he's fine." Maggie said, trying to calm the group's nerves.

"I've gotta go out and find him." Rick turned on his heal, grabbing a communal jacket that hung from a hook on the wall as he made for the exit.

"Now hold on a minute, Rick." Hershel's voice sounded behind him, an authoritative tone masking his worry. Rick turned back to face the man, watching him prop himself on his crutches and come a few steps closer. "Even if something did happen to Daryl, it's nearly nightfall. No way could you go out there right now; you wouldn't be able to see anything, wouldn't even know where to look. Plus it's much too dangerous to be out there alone right now, what with the Governor still on the loose. I'm sure Daryl will wander in soon enough, and if he doesn't then we can collect a search team together to look with you in the morning."

Hershel was right, Rick knew, and if it was anyone else he would probably have given in, but this was Daryl, his soul mate. Rick opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it when he saw Michonne and Glenn step to Hershel's side, preparing to stop him by force if they needed to.

Rick side, taking a deep breath to hold back the tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks, and nodded to the others to show that he would stay there for the night. Though how he would get to sleep without Daryl at least in the prison he didn't know.

Daryl blinked his eyes open slowly, his vision still somewhat hazy. His head was pounding, and it reminded him vaguely of his first hangover. He couldn't tell where he was, just that the place was dark, the only light a hanging lightbulb dangling from somewhere above him.

It occurred to him then that he was sitting in a padded, yet still oddly uncomfortable, chair. He tried to stand, but couldn't move his ankles or wrists. He struggled, thinking his body was just fighting him, when the realization that he was strapped to the seat struck him. He could suddenly feel the leather straps holding him in place with perfect clarity, as well as the rag in his mouth being used as a makeshift gag. It tasted like dust and motor oil, and he thought there was a faint hint of blood, too; it made his mouth feel overly dry, and he felt like vomiting.

As his senses became fully alert he began to struggle harder, trying to loosen the straps by moving them in every possible direction. He wriggled in the chair for nearly twenty minutes before the sound of a door latch being unlocked made him stop. His head snapped up, eyes probing the darkness for where an opening might be, when light began to spill into the room from directly in front of him.

A silhouette appeared in the entryway and stood there for a few minutes, simply staring at him, and Daryl could practically feel the smugness emanating from the mystery person. Finally they grew bored with just looking at Daryl, and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind them.

Daryl's eyes grew wide as the Governor stepped into the small circle of light around him.

"Hello, Daryl."