So It Begins
Three days later I was having second thoughts about saving the ungrateful, bedridden redneck I was currently standing next to. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I felt the pain in my head expanding exponentially with each string of word vomit pouring out of his mouth.
"Merida, we've been over this. You – Are – Sick. In fact, you came close to walking through the pearly gates and getting a little one-on-one time with the man upstairs so do me a favor...take it easy."
I'd have better luck convincing him to inseminate a Minotaur, but a girl could hope.
"That's bullshit and I ain't gonna tell ya again to stop with the fuckin' names!" he roared, pointing at me as he sat up in bed, his face murderous. It might have passed for semi-scary if it didn't look like he was about to keel over. "Ain't never been sick a day in my life! I ain't no bitch!"
Ah, my favorite phrase. Shaking my head I groaned in exasperation. Suddenly the pain I was feeling wasn't so much in my head as my ass.
"I'm well aware you aren't a bitch. I even wrote it down the last time you told me so I wouldn't forget, but the 'I don't get sick part' doesn't hold water considering you can barely sit up." My air quotes really riled him up.
They say ignorance was bliss. So was ignoring all evidence clearly confirming you were, in fact, sick. Daryl refused to acknowledge the medication pumping through his veins was assisting in his recovery because according to him "that shit don't work on me". I guess his plan was to bitch slap the illness into submission. He stated 10,000 times he was fine, but the makeshift hospital we created out of a storage unit said otherwise. Ignorance wasn't so much bliss as it was just dumb. The man was a real life incarnation of the proverbial ostrich walking around with its head in the sand. Except this ostrich was a redneck with a foul mouth.
We were all so worried about him initially we hadn't even considered the consequences once he began to recover. "Normal Daryl" was difficult to deal with, but "sick Daryl" played on a level just shy of the wrath of God. They say doctors make the worst patients. Not true. Sick, pissed off, surly hillbilly's made the worst patients.
Poor Carl was getting quiet the education. Daryl was putting together such creative cursing combinations even I was impressed. He was going to have a huge toll to pay when he was finally released back into the wild. Lori was keeping track of every word not suitable for children, and let me tell you that woman thought suck was inappropriate. She was going to need a swear jar the size of an Olympic pool to handle Daryl's outbursts.
"Can you just try and corporate?" I pleaded to no avail. He continued to rant, curse, and threaten like I never spoke. Sigh. It was going to be a long day.
Once he regained consciousness no one dared ventured within 50 feet of the storage unit housing the recovering demon. Actually going inside, yeah, you could forget about that. I tried to rustle up some volunteers in my stead but everyone I talked to would sooner clean the bathroom floor with their toothbrush. I suggested drawing straws, drawing up some kind of rotation, even leaving him and running away, but they all laughed, patting me on the shoulder with sympathetic smiles. Hershel handed me prefilled injections of antibiotics at specified time periods, handfuls of brightly colored pills, and wished me luck with a grim smile. I tried to bribe Rick into giving him this dose, but he told me to put on a helmet and some pads and get in there while laughing hysterically.
"Man, fuck this!"
He tried to stand up, hell bent on proving my statement wrong, but was stopped by a coughing fit that made his whole body rattle. He fell back against the pillow, his face red from anger and lack of oxygen. Just in case I wasn't clear he was frustrated he grabbed a pillow and tossed it across the room to emphasize his point. I watched the fluffy bag of feathers sail towards the wall then fall to the ground without so much as a sound. I covered my smile with my hand, trying to keep my composure. Never thought I'd see the day Daryl Dixon threw a hissy fit. When he was finally better I was never letting him live this down, ever.
"Sittin' here watchin' paint dry ain't helpin'. We ain't got time for this shit!" Technically there was no paint in here, just concrete. No sense in correcting him and having him start all over.
"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. I risked my life to get these meds."
"I didn't ask ya to do nothin', damn fool. Don't need no help," he spat, red rimmed eyes burning into mine. When I stared at him impassively he added, "Stupid bitch."
"I think the words you're looking for are thank you."
He scowled and I raised my eyebrows in return. Those same words stung the first time he'd hurled them at me, increasing my already burning need to strangle him, but now they just bounced off. He could have been commenting on the weather for all I cared. I understood he was frustrated, and in a position he'd never experienced, weak, vulnerable and in complete reliance on others. If the situation was reversed I'd be much the same way, minus hurling projectiles at every available opportunity.
"Get the hell out Red! I don't need want ya here. I don't need ya. Don't need nobody!" He turned his back on me, and I nodded leaving the unit. I wasn't even out of the unit when he yelled, "And don't fuckin' touch my crossbow neither!"
Peeking back around the corner I clarified my earlier point. "For the record, I didn't break that arrow."
He rolled over, his face a little crazy as he picked up a water bottle from the nightstand and hurled it at my head as I ducked back outside, the bottle flying past me, landing on the ground a few feet away.
"It's a goddamn bolt, not an arrow!"
I leaned against the storage units, arms crossed over my chest as I grinned like a maniac listening to him shouting from inside. Glancing to my right I saw Rick and Hershel wearing identical expression.
"He sounds better," Hershel commented, chuckling.
"Absolutely," I agreed, slapping Rick on the shoulder as he covered a smile with his hand.
Daryl's progress wasn't measured by modern medical standards. The grumpier he got the better he was, and today he was grumpier than a CPA the night before the tax deadline. It was fantastic. I almost wanted to go back inside and push some more buttons just to speed the process along, but decided to head towards Maggie, Beth and Carol who were huddled together in deep discussion. I should pace myself. The man had more buttons than a universal remote. I could push more tomorrow. As I approached the trio they all smiled.
"Daryl sounds like he's in rare form," Maggie laughed.
"He's harmless."
As long as he didn't get his hands on you. It was important to keep an arm's length away from him at all times. The man's grip strength was only surpassed by his impressive repertoire of cuss words, even sicker than a dog. I was convinced he had a thesaurus tucked away somewhere, there was simply no other explanation for his creativity.
Carol grinned, "Yesterday I heard him tell you he was going to shove a bolt up your ass if you didn't get the hell away from him."
"Yeah, I told him not to tease me. It's been way too long since I've had anything shoved anywhere so he better stop making promises he doesn't intend to keep."
Maggie doubled over she was laughing so hard, while Carol hummed in agreement, and Beth blushed a shade of scarlet, her eyes wide. That poor girl was too innocent for her own good. I should give her one of Carol's porn books so she could brush up on the finer points, but I didn't need Hershel harassing me about corrupting his youngest daughter, again.
"What's up?"
"Just discussing if we should ask Rick for one more run before we leave." Maggie spoke up, Carol and Beth looking uncomfortable beside her.
"What's the problem?" Rick was a reasonable guy, most of the time. If we needed a run he'd go for it as long as it made sense.
"Well..." Maggie started, biting her lip before continuing, "We were kinda hoping you would ask him."
I shook my head. "This is getting stupid. Just walk up to him and talk like you would anybody else."
Ever since his "this is not a democracy" speech people were weary of him. It didn't help that at the time of that particular tirade he appeared to be foaming at the mouth and admitted to killing his best friend right before dropping the proverbial bombshell that we were all infected. OK, I could see where they were coming from.
"Fine, I'll ask," I conceded with a sigh. "Anything specific we're looking for or just the usual?"
"Some warmer clothes," Beth added quietly.
"More clothes in general." Carol nodded in agreement with Maggie's statement.
It took me two days to convince Rick we needed the run. He was hesitant to allow it with our currently limited manpower, but finally agreed, more so I'd quit bugging him than anything else. So finally Maggie and I were loading up a car, ready for our shopping spree. Glenn was hovering nearby, anxiety hanging around his neck like noose. He lobbied multiple times to join our expedition, but Rick insistent he stay. Daryl was up and moving, but wasn't 100% so everyone else was picking up the slack. I gave Glenn a quick hug and then got the hell away from him and Maggie so I wasn't inadvertently hit with flying bodily fluids. Lord knows what I could catch from that. Rick followed me around to the driver's side door.
"Does Daryl know you're going?" he asked and I snorted, not even dignifying that with a response. That sounded about as smart as shoving bamboo shoots under my fingernails for fun. I debated telling him this morning while I held him down and shoved four pills down his throat, but his current mood was one step above homicidal and directly below fucking crazy so I passed.
"Oh Jesus," he groaned.
"Don't say anything. Keep him busy doing...whatever it is he does. If you get really desperate show him the other arrow I accidentally broke. It's hidden under the driver's seat in your car, but make sure to tell him T did it. He'll be so worked up he won't even realize we're gone."
"You're kidding right?" he asked annoyed at both my suggestion and hiding place. "It will take him five minutes to realize you're gone. I swear he's got you LoJacked, and stop hiding shit in my car."
I shrugged, patting him apologetically on the arm. "Good luck with that buddy."
Laughing at him as he fumed I climbed into the car, yelling at Glenn and Maggie to cut the cord already. We were going on a run, not traveling to Mars. Was it really necessary to dry hump someone who was only going to be gone for a few hours? Have some self-control people. She reluctantly climbed in, and I slammed my foot on the gas before they both started crying.
"You know, I'm going to bill you for the therapy I'll need later in life to deal with the sight of you two sucking face." She glared at me. It left something to be desired. Maggie's scary face needed work.
"Jealous?" This was her one and only comeback. Lame.
"No, I'm just worried I'll starve it I have to keep watching that shit. We barely get to eat as it is. I can't afford to be puking it up."
"Maybe if you were getting some you wouldn't be so concerned with us." I pursed my lips. I had no response to that. Maggie – 1, Alex – 0. "I'm sure Daryl would be happy to help you take the edge off."
"Stop." Well, this train had certainly veered off the tracks. "It's not like that."
"It could be," she said shrugging.
My head swiveled to her, "You think Daryl and I should be fuck buddies?"
I didn't necessarily have an issue with casual sex. Everyone had needs, and relationships weren't always practical, especially now, but the thought of Daryl and I being friends with benefits left a sour taste in my mouth. I didn't want just sex from Daryl. I almost crashed the car when I realized what I just thought. I didn't want just sex from Daryl? Meaning what, I wanted sex and other things? What other things? The really scary part was the thought didn't freak me out near as much as it should have considering it didn't freak me out at all. Instead a content feeling settled over my body, my stomach fluttering with possibility. Screw therapy later in life. I needed it now. Maggie yelped as I righted the car, looking at me with big eyes.
"Sorry," I offered up lamely. "Squirrel." She frowned at me, clearly not buying my excuse.
"You know he feels the same way, right?" Oh my god, this was it. After everything I'd been through it would be riding in a car with Maggie that killed me. "He'll never do anything about it. He doesn't know how to deal with that stuff."
"Maggie..."
"Are you saying you don't feel that way about him?"
I opened my mouth to deny it, to laugh at it, but nothing came out. I wasn't even sure what she meant by "feel that way about him", but I knew I felt something when it came to Legolas, something that crossed the line of platonic friendship. Hell, it didn't cross it, it pole vaulted clear over it.
"It doesn't matter," I said softly.
She reached over, squeezing my hand in sympathy. "It could. We don't have much these days, but what the two of you have it is something. I'm just saying think about it, but don't take too long. You know better than most tomorrow isn't guaranteed."
She added the last part softly before looking out her window, lost in her own thoughts. The rest of our drive into town spent in blissful silence as we made our way towards a small shopping center. I tried to push the thoughts of Daryl out of my mind, focusing instead on the task at hand, more because I couldn't process those thoughts than anything else. Thank heaven this should be a milk run, but things could change in an instant and Maggie was my responsibility out here.
We stopped outside a rundown Marshall's we were hoping might have what we needed or anything at all. It had clearly been looted, but fingers crossed no one had the foresight to grab winter clothes back in the summer when this had all started. Maggie and I easily dispatched the handful of walkers milling around the entrance, carefully entering the store as our eyes swept for additional walkers. There were a couple over in lady's handbags browsing for accessories so I nodded, letting her know I'd handle them.
"I'll take care of them then check over there," I told her, pointing towards woman's clothes.
"Be careful. I'm going to see if I can find anything for the guys." I gave her a thumbs up, but she paused before turning, "What about Daryl?"
"What about Daryl?" I parroted back.
"He needs stuff too, but..." Yeah, shopping for Daryl would be about as pain free as a Brazilian wax job.
"Maybe they have a redneck section," I told her sarcastically and she grinned. "Just grab stuff that already looks like it's been drug through the mud."
"So dark colors then?" Yeah, sure, whatever.
"Don't worry about the sleeves. I'll cut them off on the way home."
She nodded in agreement. "The mojo."
"Damn right." No way was I going another round with MojoSutra. That bitch had a temper and a long Maggie walked towards the back of the store I carefully made my way over to the walkers. I counted six, and sighed, there went my outfit.
Sneaking up silently behind the closest one I slammed my knife into its ear, the blade sinking in easily. I stepped back, letting it drop to the ground. The other five turning in perfect unison as they immediately started towards me, banging into jewelry racks. Rocking back on the heels of my feet I flicked my eyes over each of them, studying, watching, and planning the best approach.
Two of them looked like they were turned recently if the state of their clothes and decaying bodies were anything to go by. The other three were further gone, so much so it was hard to picture them ever being human. Their clothing was ripped, torn into shredded pieces that showed their flesh peeling away from their bones like dried pant. I could see internal organs barely held in place by what remained of their form.
The first two came at me from opposite directions and I rocked forward, settling my weight back onto the balls of my feet as I kicked out at the first walker. My steel toed boot slammed into the side of its head as it fell over an earring display, the glass shattering as it sprawled onto the floor with a snarl.
Turning swiftly towards the next one I ducked under its outstretched arms, coming up behind it as I rammed my knife into its skull. The walker dropped and I bent down, trying to dislodge my knife from its head, but it was firmly stuck in place.
The walker I knocked down was back on its feet and coming at me so I abandoned the stuck knife, and pulled another from my waist. Without waiting I flung the blade at the oncoming walker, the throw unorthodox as I brought my arm up from my waist, letting the knife fly with a flick of my wrist once it was chest high. I didn't wait to see where it landed as the three other walkers were now practically on top of me. I twisted and turned, twirled and pivoted as I lunged, sinking my knives into their heads one after the other with deadly precision. Blood, gore and bits of tissue sprayed across me as I continued my deadly dance.
I ducked down, sweeping my left leg out wide, slamming it into a walker's shin, my legs cutting through the brittle bones and separating them from the rest of their body. He went down backwards, instantly flipping over onto his stomach and clawing his way towards me, his nails scratching against the linoleum floor. Bastards were persistent I'd give them that.
Breathing heavily I leaned forward, stabbing him in the head with brutal efficiency. I pulled the knife out, using his tattered clothing to wipe off the blood before moving back to the walker with my knife still stuck in the back of its head. Wrapping both hands around the hilt I placed the heel of my boot against her head, pushing and pulling simultaneously to dislodge the buried weapon. It finally sprang free with a sickening pop, my foot crushing her skull as I stumbled back a few steps.
A slow, dramatic clapping from behind me made my gut clench with unease as I whirled around, knives poised in either hand ready to attack or defend. Seven heavily armed men stood less than ten feet from me. If their stony expressions weren't a clear indicator they weren't here to play patty cake then the assortment of handguns, rifles and other weapons strapped to their bodies sure cemented it.
My eyes assessed each of them quickly, the casual way they all moved to spread out strategically to my left and right not going unnoticed. They were cutting off all avenues of escape. It was clear this wasn't going to end without a fight and I cracked my neck, my body tense with anticipation as I watched them watching me.
They all looked relatively clean and well fed, their clothes devoid of dirt, blood and grim. Their leader was an inch shorter than me, but stocky with wide shoulders and a large chest. The men behind him ranged in size from normal to super-sized. One in particular had to be around 6'5'' and easily weighed 260 pounds without breaking a sweat. His build reminded me of a professional football player. However, someone should tell him he weighed as much as a Volkswagen because he clearly didn't know. His clothes were so tight I had no idea how it wasn't strangling his enormous neck. He was shopping in the young men's section when what he needed was big and stall or maybe bigger and taller.
"That was quiet a little display," the one I assumed was the leader remarked.
He was standing in the middle of this shit show, a smirk on his oddly proportioned face. He was trying to appear nonchalant, but he wasn't fooling me. The tightness in his voice and the rigidness of his body told me he was on a hair trigger. He had short blonde hair that was thinning at his temples and a beard of stubble the same color covering his jawline. His nose was too big for his face while his dark eyes were too small and close together. His peripheral vision must be total crap. I almost had to cross my eyes to look at them, but that just made me dizzy so I decided to focus on his nose. There was no missing that thing. You could probably see if from space.
He took his time assessing me, but when he stepped forward my eyes narrowed in warning and he halted. I felt a smirk tugging at my lips, outnumbered seven to one and this pansy ass hesitates. He wasn't a fighter, not really, he was a wannabe if I ever saw one, but my situation was still precarious. Their numbers presenting a serious challenge. I needed to pull a rabbit out of my hat to get out of this one. I faced worse odds than seven to one, but that was a different time and was a very different person.
"You're a gifted fighter," he commented, "And beautiful to boot. Rare find these day."
There was something in his voice that sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. I may be crap with names, but I was excellent with faces, never forgot one, and I knew I'd never seen him before so why did it feel like we had crossed paths?
The rest of the group laughed, vulgar yet predictable comments passing back-and-forth as they eyed me with interest. I had heard it all before though I'd never truly given much thought to my appearance. In my youth I despised it and now it was a deadly liability. Anything not directly related to survival was frivolous and being pretty was at the top of that list. Now it put a target on your back you weren't likely to shake. Now it could mean a fate much worse than death.
I spun the knife in my left hand, dragging my tongue over my teeth in distaste at his comment. A couple of the them whistled in appreciation, nudging each other with their shoulders as their faces took on an lustful look that made bile rise in my throat. If any part of them touched me they wouldn't be getting it back that I could guarantee.
"You alone?" the leader asked, eyes darting around the store.
The air seized in my lungs as I remembered Maggie. I fought to keep my face blank even as I felt sweat dripping down the back of my neck in fear. I hoped she saw them before I had, that she was hidden and was hidden and safe.
The leader flicked a hand and a few of them broke off, making their way through the store with their weapons ready, searching. I kept my body relaxed and my face impassive as the leader watched me closely, the search party was loud and clumsy as they surveyed the store, like a herd of elephants stampeding. While they men searched my mind raced to figure out the right play. Did I lie and say I was alone to protect Maggie and the group or admit to being with others in an effort to make them doubt their advantage?
In the end, my need to protect the group won out. Maggie was a decent fighter, but she wouldn't last long against this group. These guys weren't in line when they handed out morale compasses, and I refused to let them anywhere near her if I could help it. I was good at reading people, always had been. It was one of the reasons my life turned out like it did, and something told me if they thought there was a group nearby they would sniff around until they found them, no matter the size. That was not something I could allow.
"Yeah," I sneered, my eyes daring him to contradict me.
His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"
He eyed me again. Taking in my blood spattered clothes, worn boots and general disheveled appearance. It had been a while since I last cleaned properly, my hair dirty and piled on top of my head in a bun that probably looked more like a bird's nest than anything. I knew my eyes were bloodshot, had seen that much in the car's rearview mirror this morning. Sleeping more than a few hours at a time just wasn't possible anymore, and ever since Daryl got sick I hadn't even gotten that much. Too worried about him in the beginning and then too busy making sure he didn't maim anyone once he was better. My exhaustion clearly showed, and looking as I did it wasn't a stretch to believe I was living alone on the road. Guess horrendous personal hygiene had its perks.
"Have we met?" he asked and I frowned, shaking my head no. I'd remember a douche bag this big. "Hmm, I swear I've seen you before. That hair...it's pretty memorable." I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He was right and that annoyed me. My hair was a giant calling card, always had been. The next chance I got I was having Beth dye it the most boring color of brown we could find. "I'm not sure I've ever seen that shade of red before."
His comment made my eye twitch. My hair color was unique, and that was putting it mildly. I didn't like it, never had. First because it had drawn the unwanted attention of my father and later because it made it harder to fade into the background where I felt the most comfortable. All I wanted was to be left in solitude, but my hair seemed to scream come hang out with me. It drew people in despite my best efforts. It was hair that should belong to someone who was bubbly and outgoing, someone who had friends and hosted dinner parties. Someone I wasn't, someone I never would be.
He took another step toward me and I stepped back instinctively, my right foot sliding behind my left as I prepared for an attack, keeping myself just outside his reach. The way he was looking at me, his eyes flicking constantly back to my hair was creepy as fuck. Can you say fetish?
The rest of his men returned, thankfully empty handed, and I let out a sigh of relief they hadn't found Maggie. The one the size of a T-Rex eyed me with a distant look, his eyebrows furrowed as he rubbed his hand along his chin thoughtfully.
"No, it's not red. It's more of a light auburn with golden highlights, some so light they look almost white, and the way it's woven throughout the strands makes it sparkle in the sun like dew on blades of grass after a summer storm."
What in the ever loving fuck-balls was up with this guy?
My eyes widened, my face weary. I was clearly wrong about the one with a fetish. The leader groaned, turning and pinning him with a disbelieving look that made the man's face go red in shame as he diverted his eyes. This was getting all kinds of strange. I swear if either of them asked for a lock of hair I was outta here, consequences be damned. I wasn't usually one to judge someone's level of freakiness, I mean, I lived with Carol, but I drew the line at wearing other people's skin as a dress.
"What's up with Vidal Sassoon?" I asked cautiously.
"Please ignore him, I do," the leader laughed and I cringed. It sounded like Freddy Krueger's nails massaging a chalkboard. "My name's Luke."
The memory washed over me so fast I was surprised I didn't fall over. His voice, his name, I knew exactly where I heard it before. I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my anger in check as I glared at him, my hands shaking in fury. These were the same tundercunts Daryl, T and I came across in Senoia. The one's who were kidnapping survivors and using them as currency or worse.
"And you are?"
"Not interested." The rest of the men tensed, and I readied myself for a fight, but Luke just laughed.
"Have it your way Red."
My stomach clenched at the moniker, my meager breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. No one called me that, no one but Daryl. It was his name for me, his and his alone. When Daryl said it I felt my heart flutter and my body sing like I was a character in a Disney movie. Hearing it cross the lips of this douche canoe made it seem dirty, and for that he was going to bleed.
"I've got a proposition for you."
"Oh I bet you do." I didn't care what this guy was selling, I wasn't buying. I was all stocked up on bullshit.
He smiled again and it made my skin crawl. "We have a town not far from here where you'd be safe. We have walls, protection, food, somewhere you can make a real life. I think you'd be a valuable asset, and my boss has asked me to keep a look out for anything...special."
My grandmother didn't raise a fool. A cold-hearted, violent, bitch maybe, but not a fool.
"Pass."
He blew out a breath, rocking back on his heels dramatically as he grinned at his group, not surprised by my answer. It didn't really matter either way. He wasn't asking and we both knew it.
"Normally, women are relegated to more...domestic roles," he continued as if I hadn't spoken. "But you, I think you'd be well suited for something else. The world's a dangerous place these days so having people that can fight is a valuable resource."
"Tempting," I responded, my words dripping with sarcasm. "But I'll take dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery any day of the week."
His lips thinned and he looked at me with mock concern. "I gotta say, that's not really what I was hoping you'd say."
"I'm sure." I saw the rest of the group taking measured steps towards me, closing the distance slowly but surely. "Let me make you an offer, you guys tuck tail and run on home to daddy and I promise not to hunt you down like the dogs you are."
Lie. I would find them. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but they would die by my hand eventually.
Luke threw his head back, a booming laugh erupting. "Your sense of self-preservation leaves a little something to be desired."
"Giving a fuck doesn't go with my outfit."
"Have it your way Red."
"Don't call me that," I sneered.
He raised his eyebrows at me, and I cursed myself for letting him get to me. I'd shown him a weakness, and he would use it against me now. Here's to hoping it didn't come to that, but I wasn't holding my breath as he motioned for his group to move in.
"No guns. I want her alive and unharmed, relatively speaking."
In violence we forget who we are. It was something I was taught a lifetime ago. Something I still knew how to use, but locked away as a promise to my sister. It was a true statement. I learned that lesson through personal experience. There wasn't a way to maintain your sense of self when you turned to violence, and it was pointless to try. Violence demanded monogamy, allowed no room for anything other than the pulsing need to unleash its ferocity on anything and everything.
There was a time when I lived to embrace the feeling, letting it consume me so I could feel something other than my own pain. I left that life behind, but the rage still simmered just beneath the surface of my skin. It was always there, always would be, and sometimes surrendering to it was the only way to survive. As much as I hated that part it wasn't what truly scared me. The difficult part, the terrifying reality, was finding your way back from the darkness. Nothing in life was free, everything came with a price, and every time you went down the path to bloodshed the way back got harder and harder to find. Shutting my mind down I readied myself mentally to venture back into the abyss. It was worth it to save Maggie, to protect the group, and that was my only concern. What was one more stain on my already blackened soul? I would pay that price 1,000 times over.
As the first man attacked my focus narrowed, the world around going fuzzy around the edges. The attacker's movements slowed as he came at me, the color in the once vibrant store fading to only black and white as I cocked my head to the side and waited, my body poised, my heart rate steady. Gone was the woman who entered to store with Maggie earlier today. In her place was a shell of a woman who understood nothing but brutality and communicated solely through destruction. These men had come here looking for a fight, but they hadn't found a fighter. They found a warrior. The difference between the two boiled down to motivations. They were motivated by reason, a need to live thus making them fighters. I was motivated by purpose, living to fight. I was a warrior.
Kill or be killed.
Focus.
I spun out of his reach as he continued past me, and I twirled around, landing a punishing kick in his lower back that sent him sprawling forward. I heard him cursing as he crashed to the ground, but my eyes were already locked on the next target, rushing me at full speed. Not wanting to risk the takedown I hurled my knife at him, his eyes going wide as he tried too late to alter his course. Luke said no guns, but he didn't say anything about knives. Plus, they wanted me in one piece and I didn't care how many pieces they were in when this was over.
The blade sunk into the base of his throat as he gasped, his hands covering the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. It was useless, blood was already seeping between his fingers and out of his mouth as he went down to his knees, an awful gurgling sound accompanying him. He looked around wildly for help, but there was none to be had. He was already dead.
Focus.
The mountain of a man could be John Cena's twin brother shouted a war cry, moving at me with more speed than a man his size should be able to manage. I ran right at him, confusion clouding his features as he tried to understand my strategy of taking him on head-to-head. The distance between us closed quickly and his huge, meaty hands swung for my head, but I went to my knees, sliding under his outstretched arm and plunging my knife into the back of his beefy calf as I passed underneath him. He roared more from outrage than pain, whirling on me as I jumped back to my feet to face him. He pulled the knife out without even a flinch and tossed it aside. Points for pain tolerance, not so much for intelligence, but then again they were under strict orders not to break me.
He charged again, a slight limp and I pulled out my baton and extended it, waiting for my opening. Out of nowhere a baseball bat came down on my forearm from my left and I bit down on a scream of pain, my baton flying out of my hand. Glancing over I saw one of the men grin at me before stepping back, eyes shooting away from me as I frowned in confusion. It wasn't until a hand clamped around my throat I realized my mistake. Instinctively, my hands wrapped around John Cena's larger ones as he squeezed my throat like he was crumpling up paper, my feet dangling off the ground, his face contorted in fury. I scratched and clawed trying to break his hold, but he was too strong and way too pissed for that. They say you shouldn't poke the bear. Well, you definitely shouldn't stab it in the leg either. My vision went black at the edges as my air supply dwindled. Desperate and out of options I went with 'ol trusty, a swift kick in the nuts. Some call it "dirty", but all bets were off when someone was holding by the throat like a Christmas decoration.
I swung my left leg forward, kicking him as hard as I could in the junk. He dropped me with a strangled cry, and I crashed to the floor, gasping for breath which hurt like hell on my bruised larynx. It was a race to see who would recover quicker and thankfully getting choked out wasn't as bad as having your balls shoved into your stomach. Pulling myself to my feet I snatched my baton and whipped it across the side of his head, his neck snapping with a loud crack as the light faded from his eyes. He didn't move after hitting the floor.
Turning around I awaited my next dance partner, breathing still painful and ragged. Instead I deflated when I came face-to-face with the barrel of a gun pointed at me from across the store. That was cheating. I dove to the side in a roll, coming up in a crouch behind a jewelry case, pulling out another knife. It was a good thing I always over packed.
"I said no guns!" Luke yelled, and instantly the gunfire ceased.
With a curse the three remaining men converged on me, forming a lose circle as I stood up, trying to watch them all at once. I slashed at the closest one, but he jumped back, narrowly missing the blade. One of the men lunged forward in an attempt to grab me, but I knocked his hand away with my baton before pulling back and smashing it into his stomach. He doubled over in pain, backing up to put distance between us.
I still had my PPQ, but using it was a risk. I wasn't sure if the "no gun rule" applied to me as well. If I started shooting there was no guarantee these dickheads wouldn't do the same. The man to my left kicked out with his right leg, but it was unpracticed and slow, and a blind mind could have seen it coming. I stepped forward slightly, absorbing the weak kick as I pinned his leg against my side, pulling him towards me. Balancing on one leg he had no choice but to comply and as he stumbled closer as I curled my hands into his shirt. I pulled his pinned leg higher in the air as he grunted in pain. Placing my right leg slightly behind his left I rocked his body backwards, pushing against his chest as I kept a firm hold on his leg. Unable to maintain his balance he fell backwards. In one swift motion he crashed to the ground, the fall punching the air out of his lungs, and I wasted no time plunging a knife into his temple. The whole encounter took less than 20 seconds, but it was enough for the remaining men to begin to understand, looking at me with a mixture of horror and fear.
Focus.
The one on my right kicked out, making direct contact with my left arm and catching me unprepared. My grip faltered on my knife and it flew out of my hand. Before I could turn to face him he tackled me to the ground, his incredible weight slamming into me and forcing the air out of my lungs in a whoosh. He swung a right hook into my face and my headed snapped to the side, blood instantly pooling in my mouth as he smashed my right hand repeatedly against the floor in an effort to loosen my hold on the baton. He grinned from his position on top of me as I lost my hold on the weapon. He laughed at the blood pouring out of my mouth, and I'll admit it was a decent punch, but Beth hit harder so he could take his laugh and shove it. The time he spent gloating gave me the opening I needed.
Planting my feet on the ground I pushed down as hard as I could while bucking my hips up. The sudden movement startled him and created the space I needed to twist onto my side. I grabbed his right arm, pulling it towards me as I used my left arm to pin his forearm to my chest. He regained his balance and struggled to dislodge my hold on him, but strength was no match for leverage. Using my left foot I hooked it around his right leg, and bucked my hips again as hard as I could to the side. He flew off me as I wasted no time rolling on top of him, reversing our positions before he could blink. Without hesitating I grabbed another knife, using both hands to plunge it into his forehead with enough force to jar my elbows and strain my shoulders as the blade penetrated the thick bone. Before I could move I felt the cold, steel barrel of a gun pressed against the back of my head. I let go of the knife, raising my hands up in surrender.
"I thought you said no guns," I told Luke as he kept the gun pressed firmly against my head.
"That was before you went all Xena Warrior Princess. I knew you were dangerous, but it's down to three against one and I'm not sure I like those odds." Guess he wasn't as stupid as he looked.
He told me to get up slowly and I complied because it was either that or a hole in my head. Turning around slowly I faced him, my hands still raised. A moaning sounded from behind him and I looked over to see the guy with my knife stuck in his neck reanimating.
"Take care of him," Luke barked out. The sound of the bullet killing the walker was so loud it made my ears ring. These guys were about as subtle as a cactus in a nun's panties. "Ready to go?"
I assumed that was a rhetorical question so I kept quiet. Well, this certainly had escalated quickly. Kidnapping one-oh-one, don't let them move you, and despite my best efforts that was exactly what was happening. The group knew Maggie and I had gone to the shopping center, and hopefully Maggie was alive, safe and would make her way back to them as fast as she could, but if I let them take me it decreased their chances of finding me exponentially.
"Check her for weapons," Luke instructed.
One of his men moved forward, a smirk on his face as he drug his hands all over my body. He didn't so much frisk me as get to second base, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. This guy was so incompetent he could probably dive into a barrel of tits and come out with a dick in his mouth. He stepped back, my remaining knives and gun in his hands, nodding to Luke. I wasn't good at sharing hands. These bastards were going to pay for touching my toys.
"Tie her up."
Grabbing my hands roughly he wrapped them in a rope. The knot was so tight I was already losing feeling in my fingers, and the scratchy texture bit into my skin painfully. While I gave him an A for effort he let me keep my hands in front of me. Stupid. These guys clearly had no idea what they were doing. Good thing common sense wasn't more common.
Luke nodded, flicking the weapon in the direction of the exit and the man who tied me up grabbed my arm, dragging me behind him. I was shoved into the backseat of an SUV as Luke climbed into the passenger seat. He kept his gun out, resting it on his thigh as we drove away. He should have kept it pointed directly at me, especially after I went all Jean-Claude Van Damme back at the store. I amended my earlier statement. He was exactly as stupid as he looked.
I watched our route carefully, memorizing every twist and turn in the road. My time would come, and when it did I needed to be ready. My chest squeezed painfully as I thought of Maggie, the group, and one man in particular. Daryl. How would they handle me being taken? Would they look for me? How long before the welfare of many became too much to risk for just one person?
I knew Daryl would do everything in his power to find me regardless of Rick's decision. I knew it with a certainty I couldn't fully comprehend. Even now, miles away from him, I felt him. I didn't understand it, certainly couldn't explain it, but it was there nonetheless. We shared some strange connection, a burning need to be close to someone that couldn't be rationalized.
If anyone could find me it would be him, but he wasn't a miracle worker. He needed a trail to follow, and being transported in a car was the worst possible scenario. He couldn't follow a trail if there wasn't one. I could only hope Maggie saw which direction I was taken. That would give them a starting point, but I needed to hit the easy button. One thing was clear, I couldn't allow them to get me back to their compound. If they did I knew my chance of escape would be slim, if I lived long enough to try.
We hadn't been on the road long when Luke told the driver, "We can't make it back by nightfall and it's too dangerous to travel at night this close to the red zone. We'll hunker down at the warehouse and head out tomorrow morning."
Hello opening.
If I could find a way to let the group know where we turned off the main road they'd have a decent chance of finding me, and I would take all the help I could get at the moment. It was another poor decision on Luke's part. We were only 10 or so miles from the shopping center. He either assumed I wasn't with a group or if I was that they could handle them. You know what they said about assuming.
As the car slowed to make the turn I leaned forward slowly, careful to make sure Luke and the driver didn't notice as I slid my hands down my leg, grabbing a small blade I always kept tucked into my boot. Pulling it out I sat back up, concealing the weapon in my lap with my hands as I looked between Luke and the driver. I hope feeling up my tits instead of checking for actual weapons was worth it asshole.
"Turn here," Luke instructed. That was my cue.
Lunging forward I brought the knife down with bone crushing force on Luke's hand which was resting on the center console. The knife was small, but incredibly sharp and it sank into the middle of his hand like butter, the jagged edges biting into the console itself and pinning him. He screamed and I moved forward, wrapping the rope restraining my hands around the driver's throat and leaning back, choking him. The car swerved violently, the tires squealing as the driver tried to pull against the rope that was cutting off his air flow, hands abandoning the wheel entirely. Luke tried to pull the knife out of his hand, but it was in too deep and he was too much of a pussy. Instead his arm flew around as he tried to keep his skewered hand immobile and still aim at me with his gun.
I kicked with my right leg, connecting with his arm and making it jerk violently to the side just as he squeezed off a shot. The bullet slammed into the side of the driver's head, his skull exploding in a splatter of thick blood and brain that coated the window. My eyes went wide, looking out the windshield as the driver slumped forward. We were headed straight for a massive tree at the edge of the woods.
Removing the rope from around the driver's neck I grabbed at the nearest seatbelt, wrapping it around my body and twisting it around my arm as I bent over, curling into a ball as I tried to brace myself for the collision. The car impacted the tree with a loud crash, glass raining down on me as the crunch of metal rattled in my ears. My body was thrown forward into the driver's seat, my back radiating pain at the impact, but the seatbelt had lessoned what could have been a fatal blow. My vision was fuzzy and my head was pounding, but I sat up, letting go of the seatbelt, opening the door and falling out onto the ground.
My mind screaming only one word, run.
Pushing myself up onto all fours I struggled to stand, my legs wobbly as the world pitched sideways. Before I could right myself a fist crashed across my face sending me sprawling back to the ground. Blood filled my mouth from a vicious cut on the inside of my cheek, pouring onto the ground in a sizable puddle under me. I watched blood accumulate in morbid fascination before placing my hand in it, making sure to press down firmly, creating a perfectly shaped bloody hand print.
A pair of hands pulled me to my knees as Luke's murderous face swam in front of me. I blinked repeatedly trying to focus, my stomach rolling with nausea. I saw three of him, and all three versions looked mad as a three-legged dog trying to dig a hole on an ice pond. Wait, that wasn't right. I shook my head, my headache flaring and I groaned, swallowing own bile. Where was my hillbilly translator when I needed him?
I watched all three Luke's as they clutched their bloody hands to their chests, blood coating the mangled limbs, and I couldn't stop the laugh that spilled out. The one in the middle looked at me like I was insane and I just laughed more. This guy had no idea who he was dealing with. I wasn't going crazy. I was crazy. I tried to sprinkle in some moments of normal for people I liked so they felt more comfortable around me, but I didn't like him. My laughing was one step too far for Luke and his hurt paw because he stalked forward, his fist slamming into the other side of my face. Well, at least my bruises would match. It was all about symmetry.
Without anyone to support me I fell onto my side, my back to the group as I lay in a ball. Reaching into my front pocket I grabbed the small rag I carried with me. It was one of Daryl's old sleeves that I cut off in an effort to appease the mojo, a sacrifice of sorts. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers, squeezing my eyes shut before balling it into my hand, concealing it from view.
"Get her up!" Luke barked. A pair of large hands grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. I stood unsteady, my legs shaking before stumbling backwards a few steps, falling in a crumpled heap at the edge of the woods. "Jesus Christ, pick her up if you have to. Let's go."
Two sets of arms looped under each of my arms and I was lifted between the two men, the discarded rag I left on the ground going unnoticed by either. They turned, dragging my limp body between them.
"The cars?" one of the men holding me asked.
"Get her inside and we'll come back and take care of them. Make sure she's secure."
The two of them continued to drag me down a dirt road in the direction of the warehouse. I felt the tips of my boots digging into the soft soil as my legs trailed behind me and smiled, my head hanging low.
A mangled tree from a car accident.
A bloody hand print on the road.
Daryl's torn up sleeve in the woods.
Drag marks down a dirt road.
Fuck the Yellow Brick Road. They might as well have put up a blinking, neon sign with an arrow pointing right at the warehouse that read, Looking for Alex? Turn Here.
Daryl was one of the best trackers I'd ever seen, and that was saying something considering I spent time with the guys who hunted Bin Laden. Even one of those things would have led him to their front door, but all three? They painted a particularly gruesome picture of my afternoon, and I didn't need a Magic 8 ball to know how Daryl would react when he found them. They'd be lucky if there was enough of them left to bury when he was done. If these guys thought I was bad they better brace for a serious come to Jesus moment because angry Daryl made me look tame.
They hauled me into a massive warehouse that was empty save for some mechanical equipment I couldn't identify. It looked like an abandoned plant of some kind, but what it produced was anyone's guess. There were cots spread out and a table which had water and various other supplies stacked neatly into groups. Clearly they used this warehouse as a hub when they were out kidnapping, sorry, recruiting.
The men dropped me and I fell to the ground, my breathing pained and head pounding. I was trying to find a part of my body that didn't hurt, but was coming up empty. Luke stalked forward, crouching in front of me as I pulled myself up to my knees, refusing to concede even an inch to him regardless of my circumstances.
"You're gonna pay for that," he promised, his face furious.
Before I could reply he nodded at something behind me and everything went black.
This is the longest chapter yet, hope that's OK. I would love to know what you think...can't wait to hear from ya!