By the time Daryl had scaled the fence to the factory all he wanted to do was crawl into a dark hole and die. His head was pounding, he felt sick and shivery and he had barely even the strength to get up from the ground where he'd crashed down hard when dropping down from the chain link fence.
Luckily there were no walkers in sight just now, which gave Daryl time to gather his wits somewhat. He knew he had to get out of the light, he could see nothing but spots dancing before his eyes. Squinting, he could just about make out the closest building.
He aimed for that, noting as he tried to walk in as straight a line as he could manage that it looked like a small workshop. It seemed connected to the rest of the factory, so maybe he could search the building without coming back outside again.
Daryl entered the workshop carefully, holding his crossbow cocked at the ready. The ground floor seemed deserted, and completely empty. As his eyes got used to the darker interior his headache receded a bit. He knew he should probably rest for a few minutes but he didn't want to do that before he had made sure the workshop was empty.
There was a stepladder to his right which seemed to be leading to a half-floor made of timber. Daryl shouldered his crossbow and started to climb the ladder. The headache had brought on a peculiar ringing in his ears, but Daryl was pretty sure he could hear something above him. He couldn't tell whether it sounded like something alive or not, which bothered him. He peered over the edge of the raised floor and saw a room full of spare machine parts.
He clambered up the rest of the way more clumsily than usual. There was that noise again. Daryl wished he could just sit down and rest, his head was pounding with every heartbeat. Instead he took a deep breath and raised his crossbow again. He peered carefully behind the nearest pile of stuff, then the next. Suddenly there was a sound from behind, and he wheeled around. A rotting figure was coming at him from behind one of the large pieces of junk he'd just passed.
Contemplating vaguely that his instincts really weren't up to scratch right now and finding the creature in front of him unusually fast, he took a step back. The planks beneath him creaked, there was a deafening bang and suddenly the walker, and the entire room, vanished.
-.-
Daryl came to under a pile of rotting planks, metal debris and a walker. He didn't know how long he'd been out cold, but he knew almost right away how lucky he'd been. The walker who had startled him up in that storage room was still snapping at him, but he'd gotten pinned down under some decommissioned machine that had come crashing down with them when the floor gave way and couldn't move any closer.
Looking up Daryl could see a sizeable hole in the ceiling about fifteen feet above. Together with him and the walker a jumble of mostly metal parts had come down, but despite the racket he'd been lucky again. Apart from that one walker nothing was stirring, even though the crash must have been deafening.
Daryl tried to move from under the debris that had fallen on top of him. As soon as he tried an excruciating pain shot through his side. His right arm felt like it was on fire, and he nearly passed out again. Lying back, taking deep breaths, Daryl waited for the spots to stop flashing before his eyes and tried again. Moving carefully he slid out from under the rubble without using his right arm, which was feeling numb and weak.
When he was out he tried to get to his feet, but failed to even make it into a sitting position for several minutes. His head was pure agony again, and when he touched his left temple his hand came away sticky with blood. He felt very sick.
Finally, using the wall for support, Daryl managed to get to his feet. When he straightened up the building started to spin and he couldn't control the sickness any longer. As he hadn't eaten anything all day there was only bile to bring up, which burned his throat. He retched for a long time, head pounding madly, and when it finally stopped he felt utterly defeated.
But he couldn't afford to break down now. Who knew how many walkers were making their way towards him after all the noise, and he still had no idea what had happened to Rick. When Daryl thought he could walk halfway upright without falling over he pushed himself away from the wall and made his way across the room to the door which, he assumed, must be leading to the rest of the factory.
He couldn't move his right arm. It felt hot and numb, and he guessed that the shoulder must be dislocated. He could also tell that several ribs on the right were cracked, and he found it difficult to draw breath.
Behind the door was a long, dark corridor. Daryl didn't mind the gloom, it gave his head some relief, but he found it unnerving not to be able to see any potential threats. Luckily nothing stirred as he moved towards the light at the end, indicating the door into the factory proper.
The door led to a vast factory floor. Here it was obvious that the place had been deserted for a long time. Part of the far wall had caved in, and the whole structure looked unstable. Daryl had to shield his eyes against the light, struggling with his crossbow which he couldn't lift in his battered arm.
He became aware of another noise. It sounded like more walkers, scrabbling somewhere on the walls. Training his crossbow with the left, Daryl moved across the floor towards the caved in outer wall. There were some deep pits down here, but Daryl couldn't even fathom what they'd been used for once.
He looked into the first one and could spot two almost dead walkers. When he moved to the next, however, his heart almost stopped.
Rick was lying at the bottom, trapped under rubble.
