Chapter 14

Morgan crouched in the tall grass, hoisting Carol's pack and her crossbow over his shoulder. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand as the raw stench of rotting flesh overpowered his senses. It had been more than a couple of hours since he'd left Daryl at that gate. There was no sign of Carol being bitten. In all likelihood, if she'd been taken, it had been by the Governor, and if that was the case, Morgan couldn't guarantee that Daryl wouldn't go murderous with rage when he found out.

"What do you see?" Rosita hissed over the wall as Tara edged up next to her, keeping an eye on their leader as he poked through the weeds and plants.

"She was here," he murmured. "Started off toward the woods here, it looks like. Tracking Daryl." He made a motion toward the trees. He started toward the tree line.

"Maybe you should wait," Tara urged. He held his hand up to quiet her, and Rosita nudged her. The low sound of roamers snarling sounded from the tree line, and Morgan got his knife out, poised and ready. Tara and Rosita grabbed their guns, aiming them for backup, and just as Morgan was readying to attack, someone burst through the tree line, running like mad. No. Not someone. Carol.

"Run!" she screamed. Morgan took off after her, nearly smacking right into her when she turned straight around, knife raised above her head. "Got out of the way!" Her eyes were feral, face smudged with dirt, hands blooded and bruised, and he wasn't about to start asking questions now.

He got out of her way just as three walkers came at her. He took down the one in front of him, while she took down the other two with two quick, effortless thrusts of the blade between their eyes. As the last walker went down, Carol fell with it, and Morgan quickly worked to pull the corpse off of her. She was panting, almost breathless, and Morgan helped her to her feet.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, as she blinked a few times, taking a few slow, deep breaths to gain her composure.

"I was…following Daryl," she murmured. "Well, I was about to. And then four walkers were coming at me. It was too much. I dropped my bow. Couldn't reach it. My pack. I had my knife, but I needed to get them separated, get some distance between them. So I took off." She pointed in the direction she'd come from. "I thought Daryl would hear, but he was already too far away. I didn't scream. I knew that would just bring more." She doubled over, hands on her knees as Tara and Rosita climbed down to stand with her.

"Daryl doesn't know?" Tara asked. Carol shook her head.

"Well, that might be a blessing. I don't really want to have him on my bad side for losing track of you," Rosita said with a little smirk. Carol shook her head again, and she stood up straight. "I put them down in the woods, fell a few times, and then these guys started coming after me, so I led them away." She groaned. "I cut myself up pretty bad."

"They are cuts, right? Not bites?" Tara asked, taking Carol's hands in her own, gently turning them from side to side.

"Yeah," Carol said with a nod. "I'm ok. Daryl?"

"Not back yet," Morgan murmured. Carol swallowed hard, biting back the urge to panic. She knew Daryl. She knew he'd be back. She also knew he'd be pissed when he found out she got hurt trying to follow him.

"Come on," Rosita urged, "let's get you in to see Milton." Carol gave her a little nod, just as an explosion outside had the small group scrambling toward the ladder. Morgan sent Carol up first, then Tara and then Rosita. As he climbed over and got his feet on the opposite ladder, he pulled the second ladder up over the wall, putting it down in the grass before climbing down and laying the other ladder down. The women were already halfway across the walled Hilltop before he started out after them. Another explosion. Then another. The three grenades, Morgan realized.

Within moments, gunshots were heard from the watchtowers, as shouts were heard to open the gates. Carol rushed toward the gate, heart racing in her chest as walkers fell left and right. She felt somebody hold her back as a walker started through but was brought to its knees when a bullet clipped through the side of its head, blowing bone and brain matter all over the grass.

"Stay back. Stay back!" Morgan urged against her ear, keeping her close as she fought, seeing nothing through swarm of walkers and the flying blood and tissues that clouded the air in a fine, red mist. And then, through the mist, two men came running through, weapons in hand as the walkers stretched their arms out, reaching for them. The gates groaned and squeaked as they shut, and snipers began to pick off more walkers outside the gate.

Daryl clutched his side then, eyes meeting with hers briefly, widening in recognition. Carol froze then, stomach turning at the sight of him covered in blood, his hair matted to his forehead, damp with sweat and blood.

"Daryl!" Carol cried out, running to him. But Morgan caught her again, as Daryl crumpled to his knees. "Is he ok? Is he ok?!" Morgan nodded to Tara and Rosita, who came to Carol to stand with her, as Morgan knelt next to Daryl.

"Is he bit, Aaron?" Morgan asked, as Daryl slumped over, unconscious.

"No. They didn't get close enough," Aaron panted. "He couldn't be. I think it's exhaustion."

"Are you alright?" Rosita asked, as another man jumped down from the top run of one of the watch tower ladders.

"Oh God, Aaron!" he cried out, wanting to go in for a hug but stopping just short to avoid being plastered with roamer guts. He took the man's hand. "Are you ok, babe?"

"I'm ok. I'm fine, Eric. I told you I would be. I always come back, don't I?" He squeezed Eric's hand, and Morgan groaned, trying to lift Daryl.

"Let's get him to Mamet," Morgan offered. "And she needs to be looked at, too." He nodded toward Carol. Morgan stood, and together, he and Aaron hoisted Daryl up and began leading him across town. "Kill every last one of those bastards!" he hollered to the snipers. "I don't want to see one more goddamned roamer standing when I come back. Use the archers. We've used enough ammo today." At his words, the archers began to string their bows again, and Carol fought the urge to vomit when everything started to spin.

"Come on," Tara encouraged. "Milton will get you patched up. And Dary'll be ok. You'll see." She wrapped her arm around Carol's shoulder, and Carol leaned against her, keeping her eyes focused on Daryl and willing with every part of her being that he really would be alright.