"Almost got it," Daryl quietly assured his wife as he tried to pick the thick padlock that kept them from safety.
Beth nodded in response while nervously glancing towards the edge of the woods behind them. Walkers were beginning to emerge, attracted to the noise of the chain, rattling from her husband's attempt at unlocking it. The hunter paused after noticing them and quickly raised his crossbow and disposed of the threat before going back to his task. The young woman walked over to their bodies and pulled out the arrows. They were covered in dark, gel-like blood. Wrinkling her nose at the potent, but familiar smell, she could not help but wonder if she would ever get used to it.
Finally, the lock sprung open and Daryl ushered his wife through the gate before once again securing it.
A storm was approaching by the look of the sky and the way the wind was picking up around them. It hauntingly ripped through the dilapidated structures scattered at the bottom of the lookout. The hunter immediately went towards the buildings, making sure they were clear of danger. Beth looked toward the cabin at the top of the tower and wondered if she had enough strength to make it up there. Off in the distance she heard the sound of a struggle followed by another thud from an arrow but Daryl was back at her side before she had a chance to process that he might be in trouble. He was carrying a large hacksaw and rope but Beth was too exhausted to speculate what he could possibly be planning on doing with them.
"One is a well house," he mumbled, tossing his wife a full bottle of water. She practically inhaled the liquid, only stopping for a breath, before gulping down more. Meanwhile, Daryl gazed up and surveyed the lookout.
"Wonder what or who we are going to find up there," he remarked dryly with a grunt. Following his gaze, she looked curiously at the structure.
"Was there a walker in one of the buildings?" she asked. Would any more would be welcoming them at the top?
"Nah, it was actually beside it," he replied. "Looked like he was the person who had been tending to the place. At least we don't have to worry about him."
"How do you think he died?" Beth wondered with a shudder.
Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "No signs of injury. Was probably a heart attack or something."
The hunter walked over toward the bottom of the tall structure and toward the wooden staircase. "Come on," he called over his shoulder while jumping on the bottom step, testing its stability. "It's gonna storm."
The blonde took one last gulp of the water before reluctantly putting it away and turning to follow her husband. Her feet and back were killing her. In fact, she felt like she had been in a car wreck or something. Now that they were relatively safe and the adrenaline had subsided, she could finally feel the full effect of running nonstop the last two days. Before long, she was sure the lack of sleep was going to turn her delirious. The wind was really blowing, kicking up clay from the ground and whistling through the trees surrounding them. Beth was so weak that it almost blew her over but Daryl caught the woman before she hit the ground.
"Sweetheart, listen to me," he said with determination staring into her eyes that must have done nothing to mask the defeat she felt. "I know that you are probably ready to just give up but we are right here. I need you to be strong just a little bit longer."
Beth simply nodded in reply. Even if they did make it up the stairs, then what? They were still separated from their family and her daddy was still dead. Judith was God-only-knew where. Was all this even worth it anymore?
But just as she was about to collapse and say to hell with it all, the young mother felt a tiny movement in her navel, reminding her why she had to find that last little bit of strength to make it to the top of the tower. Taking a deep breath she willed herself to climb that first step and then the next one.
"Hold up," Daryl called out to her when she reached the first landing. Looking over her shoulder, Beth realized he was sawing off each step as they went. Unable just to stand any longer, she turned around and plopped down on the platform and stared up at the clouds above her getting darker by the minute. Lightening was looming in the distance. At any moment the sky was going to open up making that staircase the last place they would want to be. While it was wooden, the tower that supported the actual lookout was metal. She turned her curiosity toward her husband who was now on the third step.
"What are you doing?" she asked incredibly.
Her husband looked up at her with his still dark eyes. "Just making sure that nobody else can get up here as easy as we are," he explained. "Don't worry, I am only taking the steps out to that landing you're on.
"How will we get down?" she responded quickly surveying the large distance between her and the ground.
"That's what the rope is for," he replied, climbing another step before turning around and disposing of the previous one. "Much safer this way."
Beth would have never thought to make the tower harder to climb but figured it was probably a good ideal. There was no way that a walker could figure out how to get up to the twenty or so feet in the air that the first platform was. While a human could, the process would not be easy and might buy them more time to deal with them. Daryl was obviously turning the place into a strong hold. Their very own fortress.
Just as her husband removed the last step, a bolt of lightning lit up the dark sky above them. Suddenly, thin slivers of rain fell, stinging their sun burnt skin as it did.
"We gotta get inside," Daryl said, stating the obvious while reaching out his hand to pull her up. Beth quickly grabbed it and rose to her feet. Another crack of thunder rang out around them and the young pregnant mother could not help but think about how ironic it would be if a lightning killed them now after surviving everything else that had happened. Daryl pulled her along another set of steps and then another toward what they both hoped would be safety.
The higher they climbed the lookout, the stronger the wind got. The hunter clung to his pregnant wife as they fought their way up, step by step. Beth gripped the railing so tight that her knuckles turned white. The storm boomed viciously around them, echoing through the metal beams that held the structure atop. Finally, after quite a while of struggling, they made it to the last landing. But just as they did, little bits of pea-sized ice started plummeting down on them. The hail accumulated on the steps causing Beth to slip backwards into Daryl's strong arms. He stared into her eyes as he steadied her and decided what was radiating out of them was fear. Like a cornered animal. She tried to imagine what must have been going through his head.
But Beth did not have much time to dwell on it because after a second or two, Daryl once again remembered their mission. Within a couple of minutes he had her up the final flight of stairs and on the wrap-around wooden deck that surrounded the cabin. In front of them was a grey steal door.
The wind at the top was so fierce from the storm that it felt like they were in the middle of a hurricane. Beth clutched the rail while Daryl struggled with the door. The hunter was only able to get it open an inch or so before the breeze slammed it shut again. Finally, the wind shifted and it flew open, loudly banging against the outside wall. Cautiously, they stepped into the building, Daryl protectively in front of his wife with his crossbow raised. They both jumped when the door blew shut behind them.
Miraculously, the cabin was empty. It consisted of a small room with a tall podium holding a map and several fire-locating instruments the middle. Rain and hail pelted against the windows that were all away around the structure, giving them a panoramic view of the surrounding forest. Below the glass were cabinets. Another door lead out to the other side of the deck where a grill sat, banging in the wind against the railing it was chained to. In the corner was a cast iron wood burning stove with two burners on top. Next to it was a small wooden table with four chairs. Across the room a small bed sat covered in an old homemade quilt.
The couple stared at each other a moment in disbelief at what they had been through and that they had actually made it.
All at once, a variety of sensations washed over Beth at the same time - relief, exhaustion, and what she suspected was hypothermia. Her soaked clothes clung to her body and her long blonde hair - tinted dark from the mixture of blood, dirt, and grime - was dripping. Immediately, the blonde pulled off her soaked T-shirt before drying her tresses with it and tossing it beside her onto the wooden floor. Underneath, her white sports bra was black from dirt and wet as well. It soon joined the shirt. She pulled out one of the pine chairs from the table and tugged on her boots, desperate to get them off but they did not budge. Daryl abruptly grasped his knife from its sheath and made a straight cut down the sturdy leather of one before ripping it off. Beth silently allowed him to cut the other before carefully peeling the socks from her swollen feet. A stinging pain shot through them and up her legs as she stood to slide off her thin leggings and panties.
Barely able to stand, she slowly limbed to the bed and lifted up the dusty, worn quilt. She slid all the way over facing the wall and curled up in a ball. The storm still waged war outside. Silently, she watched the flashes of lightening light up the pine paneling in front of her. Though she was beyond tired, the young woman dreaded closing her eyes. Once she was not longer able to fight it anymore, the flashbacks started. The tank, her daddy, Maggie crying beside her while desperately shooting the gun, her frantically screaming for Judith as Daryl dragged her away. Beth's eyes sprung open. The others had to be alive somewhere. She said a silent prayer that they were okay despite having deep questions about her faith and everything that her daddy had taught his them at the moment.
The blonde heard her husband latching several locks on the metal door and the floorboards creak as he made his way over to where the table was. She could make out a curse word or two, uttered under his breath, before a chair slide out and metallic noises from what she guesses was the stove joined the cracks of thunder. After a minute or two, he began flicking his wet lighter until the cracking of a fire could be heard. Soon a soft orange glow filled the room and the wall that she was still staring at.
Beth heard his footsteps getting closer and felt the opposite side of the bed dip as Daryl climbed in next to her. He reached out and pulled his wife toward his cold naked chest. His still rapidly beating heart pounded against her body. The leftover adrenaline running through his veins caused him to almost vibrate next to her. Being safe at the moment did little to calm the beast and she could not help to wonder if he also dreaded closing his eyes.
Daryl's rough hand brushed the dip of her waist before finding its way onto her now protruding navel. She felt every calloused ridge as he cradled the baby inside her with it, undoubtedly checking for signs of movement. When a kick came in response she heard him let out a sigh in relief. Somehow their child managed to survive the last couple days of hunger, dehydration, turmoil, stress, constant running, and nearly being ripped to shreds by countless walkers. She wondered if that should surprise her. It was a Dixon after all.
Swiftly, the hand moved to her chest and grasped her breast, pulling her even closer. His mouth latched on to her neck, biting and sucking the sensitive skin like he was trying to consume her. Beth could feel the deep purple marks forming immediately but would do nothing to stop him. Her husband simply needed to release the built up testosterone that had kept them alive the last two days. Besides, Daryl was the only thing she loved that was still within reach and she needed to feel him too. His fingers left her nipples and began to hungrily stroke and pry places of her body that only he knew, parts that only belonged to him. Though her body was tired and ached, it still responded. She was helpless when it came to him. His touch became even more desperate as her breath became quicker and her hips started to rock against the hardness pressing into her bottom. Wasting no time, Daryl roughly grabbed her thigh, lifting it as it slide through his calloused hand until he clung to the back of her knee and plunged into her from behind. Beth gasped and moaned wildly as he pounded into her over and over, the fire inside of her raging hotter and hotter as he did. He flipped her onto her knees and grasped her hips before thrusting into her once more. She clawed the wall in front of her, raising her upper body so that he could reach deep inside of her. Finally, her hands found the window ceil to for support. Her husband clutched both of her breasts and wildly hammered into his wife as hard as he could. He grunted and growled like he was mating with some hard won prize in the woods. Something that he had fought valiantly for. Her murmurs became screams among the cracking thunder and howling wind when the first wave of pleasure hit and her womanhood began to spasm around him. Without ever losing the hold on her breasts, he pushed her back against his chest and sank his teeth into the crook of her neck. Daryl quickened his pace even more as a second and third orgasm overcame his mate before erupting deep inside of her. She collapsed against him and he wrapped his strong arms around her and continued to pump slower and slower, releasing every last bit into her. Now half conscious, Beth felt him gently lay her back under the covers and scoot down next to her.
"I will always keep you safe from anyone or anything," he swore in a whisper just as she was about to pass out from exhaustion.
Beth knew Daryl would too. Hell knew no fury like the beast he became if danger dared threatened her or the baby growing inside her belly.