Disclaimer: I sadly do not own The Walking Dead.
Spoilers: References to Season 1 and 2.
Warning: Rated for themes, language, and violence.
Packages in Zombie Zone, Area S - 25
Daryl grumbled. He was tired, he was irritated, and he was looking forward to a good night's sleep. Stirring from his position, Daryl sat up straight to feel a warm breeze hitting his stomach. He was somehow on the bed, sitting up against the wall. And on his lap, was Glenn. Daryl reached out and stroke Glenn's hair once more, chuckling at the hair that stood up. He lifted Glenn's head off his lap and slid off the bed. A quick peek toward the front told him that no one was there. Daryl grabbed his bow, slung it over his shoulder, and took a step out the door.
To Daryl's surprise, they were parked a few miles away from the Domino Block, between a thick group of trees. Confused, Daryl returned inside the vehicle and searched for a message. He found one on the dashboard.
Domino Block is surrounded. Travel by foot.
He turned when he heard a tired voice from the back. "Daryl?"
"Hey." Daryl stuck an arm out and pressed it against the wall, smirking at the sight.
"Where is everyone?" Glenn asked, stumbling toward him. His shirt was ruffled and when he lifted an arm to rub his eye, a small strip of skin was revealed. Smooth. Soft.
"No idea." Daryl nodded at Glenn. "Make yourself decent. We got some guns to collect."
"Need to make a pit stop." Daryl huffed. Glenn nodded.
Daryl noticed the settlement of people beyond the Clear. It was in a small lot surrounded by posts, tall boxes or stands where cops and others stood watch. The space between the posts was devoid of adults. Children ran around, playing in between tents, receiving hushes whenever they became too loud.
Daryl wondered where the parents were but his question was answered when he heard the screams. From on top of a small hill, he and Glenn saw the Domino Block surrounded by the massive crowd. Perhaps a hundred or more. But what Daryl wasn't expecting was it to be surrounded by humans. They screamed, demanding a safe harbour, somewhere safe to stay. Fists pounded on the thin mesh fence that surrounded the people from the six buildings. Inside the lot stood the Block residents, many with guns, threatening to shoot if anyone crossed the fence.
They kept their distance from the crowd, watching the two groups yell back and forth. Glenn asked one of the cops what was happening.
"Where the fuck have you been?" the cop spat. "Walkers broke through the Wall a few days ago. Our defences at the gate didn't stop them. They're still pouring through. Stupid Zoners won't share their buildings with us."
Glenn thanked the cop meekly. Daryl gave Glenn a look, but it Glenn only shook his head. He turned to Daryl. "Mind if we see Jack first?"
Daryl caved. "Sure."
Jack, upon seeing Daryl walk with Glenn toward the stall, gave them a warm welcome. She rushed out toward Glenn, took his hand in hers, and asked about the Old City, the trip, and his overall well being. Glenn somehow managed to summarize their ordeal, leaving out the parts where he was captured by the Vatos, when they broke protocol and went into Haven, about the part when Glenn's friend was bit. She said they made a good pair. When he was finished, Glenn reassured her that he was fine but gave her a weak smile.
"What's the matter?" Jack said, gesturing back to the stall.
But Glenn didn't move. He looked down to the ground and whispered, "I'm sorry." Jack spun around with a confused look, so Glenn repeated those two words. "I'm sorry."
She pressed her lips thin and shook her head. "Well, then. How about we get you your pay?"
Instead of waiting for them, she just moved forward, away from Daryl and Glenn. One of her hands moved from her side to her face and from the way her shoulders moved, she was stifling a sniffle. The other hand, was clenched tightly, shaking at her waist.
"C'mon," Daryl said, nudging Glenn with his elbow. And the kid moved. Even though his steps were low and his feet were dragging, he moved.
The transaction was quick. After explaining how this new gang has ties to Haven and that they were kidnapping people from outside the Zone, Glenn half-heartedly collected his guns from Jack, who passed them over the counter silently. She had a solemn look on her face, as if her world had been shattered. Daryl thanked her on Glenn's behalf and led him away. He didn't receive a sassy remark.
Beside Zombie Zone Express, it appeared that Fishin' For Gold was up for business once more. Amy was seated behind her stall, happily chatting with hunters as if nothing had happened, with Andrea of to the side, with her arms crossed, a warm look on her face, with Dale reading a book, eyeing the two of them from above the pages every once in a while.
Rick and Lori were hugging, with Carl squeezed in between them. She whispered furiously in her husband's ear, her hand grasping his arms tightly, as if she was scared to let him go once more. There were tears, Daryl noticed, tears that were shed from all three of them. They weren't sad, however.
Carol was hugging Sophia tightly, kissing her on the forehead. Carol waved at them as they walked by, smiling wholeheartedly. Sophia rubbed her face into her mother's stomach, wiping the tears away.
Just at the end of the field, Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy were chatting animatedly, discussing plans of going home just beyond the Clear. She raised an arm toward them and received a nod from Daryl.
And there was Glenn, who stumbled ahead of Daryl with his slumped shoulders, his green bag that sagged low on his back, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his eyes downcast. Daryl wanted to reach out and provide Glenn with what he thought he needed. But he didn't. Instead, he followed the kid, straggling behind, keeping an eye out in all directions as they made their way not toward the Domino Block, but toward the Clear.
Daryl said, trying to stop Glenn in his tracks. "The Domino Block is that way."
"Dude, we can't get in there," Glenn insisted. He continued walking down the road, heading toward the Wall. "Besides, I have some extra ammo at my place." Daryl stumbled. "I'm sure your brother wants some."
"Your place?" Daryl raised a brow.
"Yeah. I've got a place." Glenn huffed, walking briskly ahead. "Just 'cause you don't see it doesn't mean it isn't real. Now that I think about it, you've never been there before. It's pretty sweet."
"Where are we goin'?" Daryl asked, jogging beside Glenn.
"The Clear."
Daryl shot him a look and thought he should remind Glenn. "You know there are walkers out there, right?" Glenn nodded, like he didn't need to be reminded. "Gate's closed."
Glenn smirked before turning off the road, heading into a small patch of forest, a familiar one that Daryl knew all too well. They travelled through the brush, encountering the odd walker here and there. Daryl sniped them from afar, knocking them out with one blow. Glenn retrieved them, yanking the bolts out of the skulls. He handed them to Daryl, who wiped them clean with a cloth stuck to his waist.
They reached the towering structure after a few hours. Although Daryl wasn't up for it, he tried to keep Glenn talking, in order to make sure he didn't dwell on his loss. Glenn's responses were half-hearted, one-worded, and always given in monotone. He talked about how the leaves were turning red and orange, how he planned to survive the cold weather that was coming, how he was hoping for something he never thought he would have.
"Way to sound so obscure." Glenn rolled his eyes. Daryl chuckled. "What does that even mean?"
His feet stopped moving for a second, causing Glenn to stop, turn, around and call his name. Daryl looked up, quirked the side of his lip upwards, and continued to move. "Nothin'."
The Wall was taller than he remembered. Although the gigantic fence wasn't as tall as some of the buildings in the Old City, it was at least five times his height. He wondered how the fuck the government managed to put this into place. A tall perimeter outside the city up within hours of outbreak? Seemed sketchy at best.
"It should be just around here," Glenn said. "Somewhere." Daryl was about to drop to the ground but stopped when he saw Glenn on all fours. "I'll go first," he explained. "I've gone through he so many times before. This hole was practically made for me."
Daryl wasn't so sure. So he grabbed the back of Glenn's shirt and pulled upwards. "I don't think so, little man."
Glenn resignedly stood up. After a few minutes of squabbling, Daryl reluctantly conceded. Glenn smiled victoriously. "Okay. If there are geeks on the other side I'll knock them out before you squeeze under."
With that, Glenn dropped once more. He scampered quickly, away from Daryl's reach. He tossed his machete under and crawled after it. Daryl watched Glenn wriggle on his backside, trying to fit into the hole. Glenn's legs flailed wildly, spreading wide open and closing just as quickly. His jeans looked tight. Daryl stood, arms crossed, watching Glenn, waiting for him to reach the other side. When Glenn did, Daryl heard a muffled sound.
"What was that?" Daryl asked.
"How was the view on your end?"
Daryl dropped immediately with a smirk on his face. His bow went under first, followed by the bags and the guns. Scurrying underneath the wall, Daryl squeezed under. A rock dug sharply into his back so he repressed the flinch and pulled under. It was dustier than he remembered, so he closed his eyes. He was halfway through the hole when he felt a breath on his brow. A small smile threatened to grow on his face. Opening his eyes, Daryl saw not Glenn, whom he hoped it was, but a walker, one with a rotting disgusting face, one with skin that hung just loosely above his mouth, groaning above him.
He gritted his teeth, limbs flailing about. His bow was just out of reach, so Daryl used his legs to turn, dodging a bite to his ear. A quick lunge and Daryl managed to reach his weapon. He turned again, undoing the safety, and found an open mouth in front of his eyes. There were rotting teeth and gums that were black. A tongue with a dull metal stud. Daryl struggled, kneeing the walking corpse over and over again. He shot an arrow, piercing it in the gut.
An anguished groan came from the creature as it staggered, rolling onto the ground. It crawled, arching its neck toward Daryl, snapping its mouth. Suddenly, a foot flew by Daryl's face, slamming into the walker's shoulder. It flew backward, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. Glenn raised his machete high and brought it down. Splat.
"Thanks," Daryl mumbled, crawling out from the hole.
Glenn nodded. "No problem." He lifted Daryl's bow and Daryl saw Glenn's knuckles turn white. When Daryl wiggled his fingers, Glenn handed it to him. "I'm not letting anyone I care about die. Not anymore. Not if I can do something about it."
"Looks like you got some fight in you." Daryl smirked through the corner of his lips. "I like that." Glenn stared at Daryl in awe before shooting to look at the six bodies behind him. Glenn bent down and began to rummage through their clothes, poking at their pockets with his blade. Daryl gave a sly grin. "And yes, I enjoyed the view."
"And Jack?"
"Jacqui isn't that type of person." Glenn explained, leading Daryl through the empty streets. There were fewer walkers than Daryl anticipated, remembering hundreds of them came from beyond the Clear at least weeks ago. Most of them appeared to be either moving toward the Zone or away from Area S. A fond smile spread across Glenn's face. "She's nice. I like her."
"Mmm." Daryl licked his lips as he scanned the distance ahead. Glenn turned, often checking their backs. The silence was overbearing.
"So," Glenn began, stepping over a pile of bricks. "You said you did two other runs before. With who? Whom? Whatever. You know what I mean."
"Miguel. Took a bag of guns from Rick's place," Daryl recalled, tightening his grip around his bow. Glenn nodded, as if he was putting the pieces together, mumbling about how that made sense. "Kid's part of that Vatos gang. Those sons of bitches that took you."
"Yeah," Glenn sighed. "I didn't realize until it was too late. After I asked him to bring something—"
"To the guy in 201," Daryl interrupted. Glenn swallowed. "And then he put it together and ratted you out. So them Vatos pricks are tied to your gang." Glenn looked away, kicking a small rock down the sidewalk. "The gang that you were a part of."
Glenn smiled resignedly to himself as he stared at the ground. "Who was the other one?"
Daryl paused, standing in the middle of the street. The memory was fuzzy, from so long ago. The man who was slow, somehow more useless than Miguel. The man who told someone else he didn't trust Daryl. "Some old guy. His name was Scout."
Glenn froze, giving Daryl a confused look. "Scout? Don't know anyone named Scout. What'd he look like?"
"Old man. Wielder of butter knives." Daryl snickered to himself.
"Morgan." From the expression on his face, it appeared that Glenn realized something; that something incredible or unexpected had dawned on him, something that made sense yet he hadn't thought of. Glenn raised a finger and moved toward Daryl. "That means… you're the one. You're the guy. What was the package?"
Furrowing his brow, Daryl tried to remember that particular run, one of many since the walkers appeared. Daryl pressed his lips thin and closed his eyes. "Think the package was some kind of explosive. A hardcore Molotov cocktail or somethin' like that. Was meant to blow that place sky high. Wanted me to watch the pharmacist mix it."
"But how did you get it?" Glenn asked, voice filled with concern. "Scout said he asked for it but they didn't give it to him. So how did you get the package? Why did they give it to you?"
"Don't know." Daryl shrugged, unsure of what to say. "Just asked them for it."
"How, Daryl? How?" Glenn grabbed a fistful of his shirt and clenched the fabric tightly, with an intense look. "If it was an explosive and they gave it to you and wanted you to watch them mix it…"
Daryl averted his gaze, trying to look anywhere but into those deep brown eyes. He licked his lips and gulped. "I don't—" Daryl began, only to be cut off by another plea of how. "I just asked for it."
"What did you say?" Glenn demanded, leading Daryl into a broken building.
"Give it to me. No." Daryl looked down, nodding absently as he remembered. "Give me the stuff." Daryl could feel Glenn's grip loosen. He looked up and saw that Glenn froze with an expression of disbelief. Shock. Fear. "Didn't matter anyway. The thing was a bomb waiting to be mixed. Reached the hospital and found it fire. Paid me for the job. Guess they wanted me dead."
"No," Glenn shook his head grimly. He clenched his fists and stormed down a hallway, swinging his machete wildly. "They didn't want you. They thought you were someone else."
"Who?" Daryl followed closely behind, intently looking at Glenn.
"That phrase. Someone I know uses that exact phrase. Someone I know uses that exact phrase to pick up packages."
"Anyone I know?"
"Yeah," Glenn nodded, gulping loudly.
"Just spit it out, kid." Daryl said, following Glenn into a room.
And then Daryl shifted his gaze from Glenn's backside and realized where he was. He was in that room where he holed in all those months ago, locking the guy out of his home; the one where he found the food and that machete—that hooked machete that seemed all too familiar but could never tell where it was from—the room where he overheard Scout, no, Morgan, speaking to someone he couldn't see. Daryl froze when he realized who lived here: the best runner of Zombie Zone Express, the boy who delivered pizzas, the kid with the silly red hat. When Glenn turned, Daryl saw the panic on his face.
"Me." Glenn trembled, his hands shaking at his sides. "They wanted to kill me."