Chapter 14: Now I Know What Empty Is
Daryl's heartbeat pounds in his ears, blocking out everything else. His breath comes in rapid pants that he can't seem to slow, no matter how hard he tries. His fingers are clenched around his crossbow so tightly that his knuckles are white. And though he has never been much of a religious man he can't stop praying that everyone is safe.
"Daryl, wait." Murphy's voice breaks through the fog surrounding him, making him snap back on his heels.
Daryl spins around so fast that Murphy has to take a step back to keep from being hit by the crossbow.
"Wait for what, Murphy?" Daryl asks, his tone solemn, his voice pitched low.
Murphy stares at him for a moment, unsure of how to reply. It should have been more than obvious what he had meant. "Wait for me. You're practically sprintin' outta here, an' I can't keep up with ye."
"Thought you'd made a life with running, Murphy." Daryl means that statement as a joke, a teasing jest to heckle the boy and get him to work harder to keep up, but it comes out as a condescending judgment.
Murphy's brow falls, his expression turning into a grimace. He doesn't speak, and Daryl takes that as a sign that the conversation is over. Without even a backward glance Daryl turns and runs full speed toward the nearest exit, leaving Murphy to huff and puff and trail behind. Daryl will just have to make things up to Murphy later.
Daryl knows something is wrong the instant the sun hits his skin. On his way out of the prison he'd been trying to delude himself into believing that maybe it was just a large earthquake that had hit the prison, even though that wouldn't have explained the massive BOOM that damn near blew out his eardrums. Now he knows that this is something much worse than just a force of nature.
On the horizon of the fences a military tank and several trucks have rolled into an arrow formation, with the tank taking point. And if his eyes don't deceive him, Daryl can see the Governor standing astride that tank as if he owns the damn thing, as if he's some mighty king on his way to requisition new land.
This is worse than just the Governor rolling up trying to take their home again, because this time he's brought captives along. Hershel and Michonne are strategically placed in front of the tank, most likely to ward off attacks from team prison, on their knees with their hands behind their backs.
Daryl's breath hitches in his throat at the sight, and all he can do to keep sane is search out Rick's slender frame, approaching him and a few of the others with Carl, Glenn, and Maggie by his side.
Rick meets Daryl's gaze, and somehow the ice blue of his irises melts into warm waters roiled by worry. Rick is practically begging Daryl for help, and even with all that's happened between them in the space of a few hours Daryl longs to give the man the aid he so desperately craves.
So Daryl steps up to Rick's side, walks level with him, lets their arms brush against each other for the briefest of moments before they're both forced to pull away and refocus.
Rick speaks to the Governor, shouts something about not being the leader anymore, but Daryl tunes him out, because he knows that there's only one way this will go, regardless of what Rick says. All Daryl can do is show his unwavering loyalty to the former sheriff by preparing for the oncoming battle, and by making sure the others do the same. Cowardice will not be tolerated now, not even from Murphy, the man he's come to love in some twisted way.
Daryl shoots a glance at Murphy, raises an eyebrow, asks the question. You're with me, right?
Murphy meets his eyes, tips his chin as a nod, answers correctly. Of course.
Smoke and sweat, and maybe a little bit of blood, are blocking his vision, not impairing him enough to do any damage or make him less deadly than he always has been, but just enough to make him uncomfortable. He's paranoid and jumpy and his eyes won't stop darting around the prison grounds, searching frantically for any sense of normalcy and for the people he's started to call family.
And for those first few seconds of space after the most carnage was wracked upon the prison he was searching for Rick, not even realizing that's what he was doing until he saw a man with curly hair and a scraggly beard collapse on the ground and all he could do was move toward them at a full-on sprint. He didn't even remember his legs moving, he just knew that one second he was standing beside the dead body of the tank driver he'd let a bolt fly through and the next he was standing beside the dead body of a man who actually looked nothing like Rick once you were up close to him.
That seems to snap him back to his senses, and his mind shifts gears almost seamlessly, his eyes now searching for the second most important person in his life, Murphy.
Daryl can't remember where he last saw Murphy. He knows that Murphy had started out right beside him, a gun in his hand and firing rounds faster than anyone could even blink or breathe, just like everyone else. But then he'd disappeared into the parted crowds and the smoke and the war.
Murphy had run off like a good soldier into battle, straight at the enemy and aiming for the throat, and for all Daryl knew he was lying in the grass somewhere beyond, dead and gone and probably only a few minutes or hours away from turning.
A lump formed in Daryl's throat that he could barely breathe around at that thought.
So he continues to search frantically, his eyes pausing on every single body he can see, both alive and dead. None of them look anything like Murphy, and that makes something too close to hope bloom through his chest. But hope is what makes people stupid, what gets them killed, and so he squashes it down, returns his mind to mission mode.
What he needs to do first is try to find the members of his group that are still alive. He thinks he can see Beth wandering around alone, looking far too lost and confused to be good, around the tank he destroyed just a few minutes prior.
Daryl starts forward, his legs just beginning to pump at full speed, when he crashes right into Connor. Connor's arms encircle him, keep him upright, and then seem to tighten. In a way it's making him feel claustrophobic, but at the same time the embrace feels nice. It's something he needs and wants, but doesn't, all at the same time.
This is not the time for a hug, though. Daryl pushes back roughly, making Connor stumble over his boots and nearly lose his balance. Daryl reaches out and steadies the man, not wanting the Irish lad to think he was actually trying to hurt him or push him away indefinitely. At this point Daryl will take whoever he can get along with him, even if it is Murphy's overprotective, headstrong, bold, and flirty twin brother.
"C'mon, Connor, we gotta go." Daryl says, almost shouting because his ears have been ringing since the first blast hit and haven't stopped since.
"But Murph. I can't find Murph." Connor's voice is both deadpan and filled with emotion, and the mix sends a shiver down Daryl's spine.
Connor's eyes dart around as Daryl's had been doing just moments before. The man looks panicked and jumpy, and while Daryl understands the emotions quite well he knows that this is neither the time nor the place for them to show up.
"We'll find 'im later, Connor. Right now we gotta get outta here 'fore the walkers start piling up 'round here and more shit hits the damn fan. This place ain't safe and neither are we if we keep stickin' around." Daryl grips Connor's elbow, gives a slightly rough jerk toward the direction he saw Beth in.
Connor pulls back sharply, practically flinging himself away from Daryl. "No, I can't leave without me Murph! He's still 'round here somewhere; he's gotta be!"
Daryl huffs and grabs Connor's hand, the only form of affection he's ever shown the other man. "Maybe he is an' maybe he isn't, but we'll never find out if we die, 'r get injured. Our best chance 'a findin' him anytime soon is t' leave, right now; we can search for 'im soon as we get clear 'a this hellhole."
Confusion and indecision bounce around in Connor's eyes for a few seconds, but finally he nods and allows Daryl to pull him along. They nab Beth on their way to the nearest safe exit, and the trio head into the woods.
Before they plunge completely into the proverbial darkness of the surrounding forest Daryl throws a glance back over his shoulder, taking in the carnage.
And in the distance, trying their hardest to climb up a steep hill at a quick pace, are three figures who look an awful lot like Carl, Rick, and Murphy.