Chapter 11: Running
A/N: So I don't know how I'm ever going to part with this story, but it's supposed to be ending soon! All you reviewers are wonderful, and I adore you. For the sake of this story, and Merle, I'm saying Daryl also has a truck? A little unsure if he actually does or not, but for the sake of this story, he does. I completely forgot Patricia in this story I realized, but I hate her, so just pretend she's gone, or dead or something haha.
Also, to anyone who saw last Sunday's episode (don't worry, spoiler free rant here) I just wanna say: gah, how shall I live without walking dead until Fall! And to anyone who knows what I'm talking about, what if Merle is part of Randall's group? Holy moly, I wouldn't doubt that. Anyway, enough rambling, here we go, a little more action, review!
Everyone was sitting in the room again, Merle had a cloth pushed to his nose and Daryl was viciously pleased to see he had obviously punched him hard enough to cause pain. Bastard deserved it.
Glenn was red faced and couldn't even meet Daryl's eyes, and despite Maggie elbowing him it looked as though he hadn't mentioned a word about his interruption of Carol and Daryl's rendezvous.
Rick was pacing.
Daryl leaned against the door, Carol next to him; they both had sobered upon seeing the stress and worry on their groups' faces. Something was wrong.
"Merle's appearance made the walkers target the house again." Rick drawled, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.
"How bad is it?" T Dog asked. He had grown broader since Atlanta, and with his arms crossed he looked like he could even take on Merle and win.
Herschel was slow to answer, and Daryl had never seen him look so tired. "The door's almost down. We need to get out of here."
Beth started to cry, startling everyone with her presence. She rarely spoke a word to anyone anymore, with the possible exception of Jimmy or Maggie, and even then she seemed so fragile it was like she was already a ghost.
Maggie reached over and took her hand, squeezing it; Daryl glimpsed for one moment the woman that Maggie could become. She was strong, and willing to go the distance for those she loved. She could survive.
Beth however, was doomed. Daryl knew it, although he hadn't voiced his opinion out loud. There were certain things he didn't tell the group, because they wouldn't be appreciated. This was one of them. His knowledge of who would live and who would die. He wasn't always correct, but he usually had a good idea.
Beth would die, and Jimmy would follow her. Carol would have gone next, but with him protecting her she had been given a chance to outlive a few of them. Dale, then Shane. Despite his aggression, and obvious survival skills, his temper would get him in trouble one day. Shane's number would be up, and it wouldn't be for lack of skill, it would be because of stupidity.
"So we leave." Glenn voiced, his cheeks finally dulling down to a normal color. "If we need to go, then we find a way. Keep moving."
"And how," Rick sighed, "do you suppose we do that?"
Glenn shrugged, "It's not that hard, is it? We draw the walkers to the front door, and then Daryl and I get to the vehicles. Drive away."
"Why the hell am I your partner?" Daryl snapped, surprised he was dragged into Glenn's plan.
Glenn grinned, "Cause I'm fast, and you can kill walkers with your crossbow quietly. I need you to cover me."
Daryl rolled his eyes, "If you get yourself killed, it ain't on me. I'll kill them as best I can."
Glenn nodded, "I know, you won't let me get hurt. We'll get your truck first, and then we can load people into the bed, drive to our tent set up. We need to grab what we can and get all of our vehicles. It will be hard." For an instant, doubt registered on his face.
Rick smiled, "That's not bad, Glenn. Everyone needs to be in pairs though, and that way someone can grab things and the other can watch."
"Guns as a last resort." Shane muttered, "I don't like it, but we might as well not draw attention."
Lori was frowning, "It's not my favorite plan, but it's all we have I guess. How are we going to draw the walkers to the front door?"
Maggie stood, grinning maliciously, "Oh, I got an idea. We need Merle's towel, and someone to turn on the downstairs lights and music. Also, dad, do we still have meat in the freezer?"
Herschel nodded, watching his daughter carefully. "Yes, I believe there is beef."
"So we take Merle's blood, all the beef we can, put it all at the front door and make as much ruckus as we can. That oughta draw them."
"Wish we had somethin' live to draw them." Daryl muttered. "A cat or somethin'."
Beth stared at him, "You would sacrifice a cat?"
Daryl shrugged, "To live, hell yes."
Beth didn't respond, but she slowly sunk her head back into her hands, tears leaking from her blue eyes once more. Jimmy rubbed her back, but his expression was ruthless. He was on board with the plan.
"Carl, Lori, Dale and Beth, you better get in the vehicles first." Rick said, "Everyone else partner up and make sure at least one of you can use a weapon."
Andrea came over to Carol, and smiled at Daryl. "I'll stick with her if you're out with Glenn."
Daryl eyed her briefly, and nodded. Rick was with Maggie, and T Dog hovered over the much meeker looking Jimmy. Herschel stuck his hand out and shook Merle's one good arm.
"I'm stuck with Grandpa?" Merle rolled his eyes.
Herschel nodded, "I suppose so, but just remember boy, I can probably shoot a gun better than you can."
Merle's lips twisted into a grin, "I suppose so, but I can't carry shit, so you're stuck with me protectin' you."
Herschel shrugged, "You seemed to have no trouble surviving, I'm assuming you know how to wield a knife."
"When are we goin'?" Daryl asked, breaking up the banter between Merle and Herschel.
Glenn sighed, "I guess when you're ready. We'll pack up and try to go. We can't run the risk of them getting in the house before we're ready."
Maggie let out a laugh, and Daryl eyed her like she had gone off her rocker. Her eyes were shining with tears though, and Daryl realized this was probably one of those damn woman things where they show one thing and mean another.
"I guess we go. I'll go get everything set up. Andrea, would you mind accompanying me? You're good with a knife." Maggie's voice was a bit hoarse, but she seemed to be putting on a tough front, and Glenn watched her sadly. He didn't touch her though, and for that Daryl was grateful, cause he thought that at the smallest hint of pity or kindness she might damn well break. Crash to the floor and sob there.
Glenn clenched his fists, "Daryl, we might as well get ready to run as soon as that music comes on."
"I need a knife, too. Kill the close up bastards." Daryl muttered. He turned to watch Carol. She needed a knife too, he'd be damned if all that stood between her and a walker would be Andrea.
Rick went to the hall, finding all the weapons and provisions they had managed to stow in the house before the herd had come upon them. There were kitchen knives there, previously used for chopping fresh grown vegetables for dinner, soon to be embedded in a walkers skull.
He handed them out, making sure everyone was decorated in at least some sort of weapon. T Dog had a baseball bat, and the muscle to make it look threatening. Merle already had his wicked knife, and he obviously had no trouble wielding that.
Andrea headed for the door, gun tucked into the waistband of her pants in favor of a solid machete. Maggie followed her, and cast one last look at Glenn before she disappeared from sight. The look said everything: the love, the goodbye, the hope, the 'be safe'. Daryl never knew anyone could convey that much with a look, and he was embarrassed and annoyed at having even witnessed it. Shouldn't be seen by some goddamn bystander, but the end of the world had taken both lives and privacy along with it.
"Move your ass, boy." Daryl grumbled, hauling his crossbow over his shoulder. Glenn scrambled to follow him, probably as lost and scared as he'd ever been after Maggie's glance.
Carol's voice stopped him. "Daryl?"
"What?" Daryl glanced at her.
She was grinning at him, but there was fear in her eyes. "If I get hurt, don't kill Andrea, okay?" She was scared, but trying not to show it; joking, joking with him so he wasn't so worried about her. And she was honestly concerned he would kill Andrea?
Well, she should be. He would strangle her if Carol so much as got a fucking scratch.
"I make no promises." He muttered, stomping away. His temper was foul, and he knew it was a distraction to be so annoyed and caught up in Carol. He was worried, like a fucking mother hen, and he needed to be focused.
"Stop." Glenn muttered, surprising him. He was opening the window, the one Merle had appeared in so shockingly only a bit earlier. He crawled through, more gracefully than Daryl figured his gangly frame would let him.
"What?" Daryl snapped, following him.
Glenn sighed, "Worrying. Thinking about it. You probably don't wanna hear anything from me, but-"
"Damn straight I don't." Daryl muttered.
Glenn shot him a glare, "Well listen once so I don't repeat it. I nearly got myself bitten because I was worrying and thinking about Maggie. Froze up. You have to forget it, or you're gonna kill yourself thinking about getting back safe to her. Pretend she doesn't even exist. Only the end goal."
Daryl couldn't help the small amount of pride that bloomed within him. He had always rather liked Glenn, even though he'd rather stab his own heart out than admit it. The Asian was a good man, and he had what it took to survive, if he could just grow up a bit. Looked like he had grown up, and grown a pair of balls too -especially if he was going to tell Daryl off.
"Well, shit, Glenn. I think I'm gonna cry with that advice." Daryl growled.
Glenn rolled his eyes. "Carol has to be the most patient woman I've ever met. You wouldn't last five minutes with Maggie before she'd eat you alive for sassing her."
Daryl hunkered down over the eaves, legs dangling to the ground. Music came on, blaring inside the house. It was time.
"Why the hell would I want to spend five minutes with Maggie?" Daryl groused. "And I don't sass."
Glenn chuckled at his protests, sobering quickly. "Time to go. You ready? They're on the move."
"You better be a goddamn fast runner, or I'll shoot ya in the ass." Daryl muttered.
Glenn sighed. "You just keep up, loverboy." He dropped off the roof, tumbling on the grass. He leapt to his feet quickly enough, and Daryl swung his crossbow into his arms and followed suit, intent on knocking the Asian around a bit after they got out of this mess. Loverboy, whatever. Glenn was the one with the farmers daughter!
Glenn took off sprinting, and true to his word he was nimble. Daryl did have a time keeping up with him, and he was grateful that the end of the world had also meant the end of his bad smoking habit. He wouldn't be hacking up a lung at the end of this, thankfully.
He took out walkers from around Glenn, shooting them and stopping briefly to retrieve the arrow whenever he had time. He'd lose more than he'd save, but as long as he didn't run out halfway to the truck he'd be okay.
The herd was huge, all of them stumbling and crawling towards the front of the house where lights shone. Daryl could make out people throwing beef out of the windows, down to the feasting herd below.
They reached Daryl's truck at the same time he heard the crash. It was inevitable, but that fact didn't reassure him. The door was down, and walkers would be streaming into the household by now. The stairs had a blockade, but it wouldn't take long. It never did.
Glenn turned the keys, and for one heart stopping moment the engine didn't turnover. It roared to life after that though, either because Daryl's sheer force of will had made it so, or God had for once looked kindly upon them.
"Drive, dammit!" Daryl yelled; Glenn slammed his foot onto the gas, tearing up grass and spinning wheels. Walker's heads swung their way, and Glenn was careening towards the farmhouse, finally. Figures were standing on the shingles, and Daryl was leaning out the window with his crossbow just in case, but even so he couldn't help but count the figures.
Eleven.
They were all there.
Glenn pulled to a stop and Daryl didn't hesitate to shoot any walkers around the truck, letting everyone jump onto the roof of his truck before landing in the bed. There would be dents, and Daryl would treasure every single goddamn one because it meant that no one had died.
The very last person into the truck was Rick, and he hunkered down pulling Carl and Lori close to him, and Glenn once more hit the gas so hard Daryl wondered if anyone had fell off the truck. Everyone was there though, most lying low while Shane and Merle held their knives at the ready just in case a walker was lucky enough to get a hold on the truck.
They reached their makeshift camp and Glenn parked the truck, leaving it running. Everyone leapt out of the truck bed, and scattering in all directions, weapons drawn. Tents were torn down and thrown into cars, half made with poles sticking out. Anything that was within reach was grabbed and thrown into any nearby vehicle.
"Merle." Daryl found him, machete out and alone. "Where's Herschel?"
Merle shrugged, "Slowin' my ass down!"
"Fuck." Daryl cussed. "Take your keys!" He tossed his bike's keys to Merle, who let them drop to his feet. He raised an angry eyebrow and looked at the stump of his hand.
"I was jokin' asshole. Can't ride a bike anyway with no hand. Need the truck." Merle whipped around abruptly and took off a walker's head without a second thought. He had damn good survival instincts for a piece of shit, one-handed, addict. Daryl snatched his bike's keys off the ground and glared at his brother.
"Truck's running. Better get in and follow the RV." It revved to life behind him as he said this, and he walked away from Merle to find Herschel.
He didn't have to look far, Herschel was holding his own and packing any of the food he could find by the fire into the RV. People were disappearing into cars now, and walkers were swarming them. It was getting bad, and Daryl knew they had run out of time. They had packed up nearly everything that mattered though, and he wondered if anyone had ever moved that fast in their entire lives. The camp had been decimated in a matter of minutes.
Daryl saw his bike and slaughtered a few walkers on his way to it, kicking the engine to life and pulling it around to stare at the convoy. Rick was yelling at him, and he moved towards him.
"Where is Carol? Where is Andrea!" Rick yelled over the chaos. Daryl's blood ran cold, and he didn't answer the cop before he spun his wheels and started circling camp. They had to be here. They had been in the truck. They were somewhere in camp!
He found them, sprinting full tilt to the R.V. They had so much shit in their hands they could barely run, and walkers were all around them. Andrea had pulled her gun, and she started pegging them off with incredible accuracy. Daryl hated and loved her for it, but she was damn good with a gun and she was saving Carol's life.
Carol had a knife out though, and she looked well prepared to use it. It surprised him, but he was happy about it as well. She wanted to live, to protect herself.
He drove beside them, killing a few more walkers on the way. Andrea made the RV, leaping in through the door. Carol launched herself on the bike when he stopped it for a few seconds, and everything she had gathered was crushed between her chest and his back. It was uncomfortable, but Daryl didn't complain, he just took off, following the car that held the Grimes' family. Maggie and Glenn followed them in a small car, Merle and Shane in separate trucks behind, and the RV following as it usually did, a small comfort in an otherwise horrifying scenario.
Carol's arms wrapped around his waist, and although he couldn't feel her with whatever she had between them, it was comforting to have her hands locked over his stomach. He could tell she was crying though, and he wondered if it was because they were leaving the farm, or the chaos of the night. Perhaps it was because she was leaving the place they had buried Sophia? The last place she had seen her daughter, the place she had left her. She would never come back here, and that thought probably stung her; she had lost her daughter all over again.
He let one hand slip to hers and cover them, wondering if it helped at all, if it meant anything at all. The contact was brief, and he let go quickly to return to his handlebars. Her grip tightened, and he wished harder than he ever had that he had ignored Glenn's calls for just five more minutes. That they had gotten the night in the bed in the perfect house. That they had just one more night of surreal happiness before zombies came back and reality invaded.
Fuck.