Welcome back everyone! Long wait I know but good news, I graduated with outstanding grades and now I have a lot of free time to concentrate on this story!...Along with looking for a job, but I'm relaxing now. So, I'm already in Walking Dead withdrawels, and I'm guessing you guys are too so I hope my story is going to fill that void! Had to get back in the Walking Dead spirit for this chapter. This is the start of something heavy so I hope you enjoy. After this, one more chapter before the plot of Season 3 begins. Lets do this!
Also, of course I'd like to thank all of you that take the time to review and those that have favourited. Welcome new followers, so happy that you decided to follow the journey that I have written! Hope you enjoy this chapter too!
Chapter theme:
Yellow Light by Of Monsters and Men
I take no credit for characters with an exception to my OC's.
The grey clouds rolled in with the force of an impending wave, infesting the blue skies above with the crackle and roar of thunder. Spring rain was fast approaching, the light from the sun blocked out by the darkness of its advance. Fog was beginning to seep through the girth of the forests, thickening as the cool breeze blew through like a warning that the downpour was coming.
Elena paced along the cracked asphalt, her hand tight on the grip of her Glock sheathed in the holster buckled tight around her right thigh. The weight of it was still strange for her to get use to and Elena often found herself fidgeting with it during any downtime. It had been taken from the deceased remains of a long dead recruit of the state of Georgia SWAT team—if his uniform didn't deceive—a couple of days ago when they looted the remnants of a previously raided farm house. The place had been a dump, debris of rotting corpses of both uniformed officials and civilians littering the floor, the smell putrid of spoiled flesh that seemed to have been decaying since the whole plague started. The holster and a few extra 9mm bullets was all they scavenged. SWAT artillery was not found, neither were foods or liquids.
Scavenging had become a feeble task throughout the days, their search limited in rural Georgia where the population was scarce and provisions were little. But at that very moment, that was the least of their worries.
Scanning the distance, Elena shifted her weight on her heels nervously and her heart pounding slowly but hard against her chest.
She stood beside the body of an ancient Nissan Sentra, parked in the driveway of one of many one story houses around the area. With the fog rolling in and the small crackles of thunder above her head, Elena got the eerie nostalgia of that freaky horror movie she saw years ago. What was it called? With a grimace, Elena remembered. The place reminded her of Silent Hill.
Elena turned to the opened door to the passenger seat of the vehicle, Daryl's legs poking out while he lay over the seats on his side, fumbling with the wires that spilled from underneath the steering wheel. She felt impatient waiting for him, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, preferably before it started raining.
"Are you almost done?" she asked him, glancing as he fiddled with the wires.
"One sec," he grunted in response.
Biting back a sigh, Elena looked back across the street where the forest resided. The atmosphere there was thick and pale, the trees fading in the heavy mist. Movement caught her eye and Elena inhaled a sharp breath.
"They're coming."
Daryl didn't reply, focused on hotwiring the old car back to life. Elena wished he'd chosen another vehicle, something a little less outdated, but according to him the older they were the better chance of them working longer. Elena didn't really understand the logic in that, but she trusted him.
The engine of the vehicle began to spit and sputter then. Elena stepped forward before peering inside the car while Daryl tapped the two designated wires together. Afterwards, she lifted her sight back on the road. The movement ahead grew with the entering mobility of more dark figures that were immersed in the fog, staggering through with the ghoulish twitch of their slowly decomposed muscles. Cadavers of all shapes and sizes emerged from behind the trees, the throng of the undead stumbling their way toward the road that cut across between them and the stationary meals at their wake.
"Daryl," Elena warned, an uneasiness of concern entering her voice.
"Hold on."
His annoyed retort had her mentally take a step back. Daryl understood the danger here and he was doing the best he could to get the vehicle up and running. Rushing him was doing neither of them any favours. Swallowing back the bile in her throat, Elena kept a wary eye on the approaching stragglers now limping across the road, their guttural growls and hisses of hunger louder, excited. She blew a long anticipated breath and released the velcro strap that held secured her Glock.
The mechanical roar behind her had her pause her next action. Elena twisted her neck. Carbon monoxide spewed from the exhaust of the Nissan, the vibration of the car's engine flowing through its entire metal frame. With a sigh of relief, Elena stepped beside the vehicle. Daryl sat himself on the passenger seat, his fingers turning the dial of the radio to its maximum. Static crackled through the speakers, the film of the cassette tape already inserted rolling for the next track of music. Suddenly a guitar riff blared through the audio system, so loud that she could hear it echo in the neighbourhood. It was the beginning anthem of a classic rock song, the fast rhythm of a combination of guitar, bass and drums riling up the walkers in the distance even more. Their shambling limbs now worked in a bustling trot toward them.
Daryl jumped out of the vehicle, adjusting the folds of his poncho so they fell neatly over him before pulling his crossbow he left rested on the roof of the car. With narrowed eyes he watched the onslaught of walkers grow in size, the herd storming through the forest and onto the road.
"Let's get the hell outta 'ere," he finally said, brushing his fingertips against Elena's arm.
She nodded, securing back her Glock when Daryl gestured for her to move forward. There was no hesitation when Elena followed the similar path they took, tearing through the wooden gate that led to the backyard of the house. She stomped through the flat wet dead grass, avoiding the patches of sinking mud that lay like booby traps across the land. A flash of light caught her eye and Elena looked up. Something cold fell on the tip of her nose and loud rumbling that sounded like a drum boomed from the sky. Small beads of water began pelting down her face and hair.
Daryl stepped ahead of her when they neared the wooden fence that cut across the property of a corner house. He turned and flattened his hand against Elena's shoulder, ceasing her own advance.
She glanced at him questionably, but he merely answered her with silence and a distinct sharpness to his eyes. He pulled his poncho away from his front where it swayed down his back like a cape. Shrugging the strap of his crossbow onto his shoulder, Daryl heaved himself atop the tall wooden fence. Elena watched him as he craned his neck left to right, scanning the perimeter with acute attentiveness.
The sound of a slam had her turning abruptly, the gate a few distances away swinging and again slamming against the adjacent wooden fence as bodies began piling in. The throng bumped along one another, many walkers struggling through like a herd of cattle, to be the first in line for live meat.
"Get yer gun ready," Daryl told her as he watched the herd's advance. "C'mon." He heaved and hoisted himself over the fence.
Elena pulled out her Glock, before getting a running start to jump the fence. She pulled her bodyweight over the edge, met by Daryl whom lent out his hand for her. He helped her over and just as quickly equipped his crossbow, striding along with the shift of fast footsteps. Chaotic moans echoed around them, cadavers shambling toward them as they trundled across an open front lawn. The slender figure of a deceased old man strode among their path, an obvious limp to his drunken choreography. He gnashed his teeth into the air, a grungy roar escaping behind canines. Daryl paused in front of Elena and aimed. The string snapped from the pull of his trigger, the bolt cutting through air before Elena heard the sickening wet sound of the tip piercing through flesh. The corpse dropped and Daryl sprinted past, pulling the protruding arrow from its eye socket simultaneously.
Elena pushed forward, lining her direction toward their ride out of there. Daryl's Triumph sat parked a yard away like a metal steed patient for its cowboy. Then another corpse stepped into her elongated path. Elena's expression tightened as she slowed and aimed her pistol.
"Make 'em count—!"
Daryl's call deafened behind her when the boom of her Glock exploded in her grip, the recoil vibrating through her arms. The walker's head wiped back in a mist of blood, chunks of flesh ripping from its face before its knees buckled and collapsed. Elena let go of the breath she didn't realize she was holding when she felt the heat of Daryl's hand against her back, urging her to continue in haste.
Together they ran, manoeuvring away from the reaching arms of the ravenous creatures that clawed at them. Elena felt Daryl's weight against her side, his shoulder shoving her to veer to her right. The fingers of a dead woman just barely brushed across the fabric of his poncho, the walker tripping over its hind legs as she lent farther than her reach.
The bodies stood sporadic ahead of them, the large gaps between slowly closing in the closer they made to the motorcycle. The light drizzle fell down above their heads, drops landing against her lashes and forcing Elena to blink twice as much. The moisture felt well against her skin however, as it cooled down the heat that was rising in her body.
Another roar of thunder erupted, giving Elena a start that hindered her focus. Something knocked the heel of her boot, causing an awkward hop in her jog to return back her balance. She looked back momentarily, staring at the turned over form of a plastic tricycle left abandoned just before the curb.
Daryl released the trigger of his crossbow as another corpse stood still a few paces away from the Triumph. He switched the firearm in his hands and gripped the hilt of his knife. Jumping forward, he pulled the blade swiftly from the sheath at his waist and stabbed the stainless steel into the temple of another straggler.
He could still hear the rapid rhythm of the music playing over the fences behind him, going along the beat of his heart that pumped the excited blood through his veins. They had little time. The herd was coming from all directions, the music attracting them, the vision of two fresh meals making them amble faster than their spoiled muscles could manage.
Throwing his bow over of his shoulder and out of the way, Daryl hopped onto the motorcycle. He kicked the starter, the old engine sputtering. Quickly he looked up, keeping his keen eye on the walkers that were closer in distance. The loud engine sprung to life with another kick as he revved the grip, the roar riling up the incoming dead.
Daryl twisted his neck around, his breath hitching in his throat when he didn't feel Elena's weight on the bike behind him immediately.
"Elena!" he called out to her, his voice husky with hurry.
She sat bent on her heels, reaching for something underneath the wheel of a fallen child's bicycle.
"'ey!" he yelled again, louder this time.
Elena jerked up, shoving a small object into her waistbelt. Daryl barely had the chance to register what it was when she jogged toward him. He kept a watchful eye on her as she holstered her Glock, taking his crossbow in the fashion they practiced multiple times and securing the strap across her torso, the bow nestled against her back. Daryl reached for her hands that wrapped around his waist after she straddled the seat behind him. It was habit now, making sure her grip was tight, making sure she held onto him.
Looking up, Daryl gripped the handles with both hands and pushed the bike forward with his heels. The bike spurted ahead, twisting the ankles of the emaciated that struggled to follow.
A whine nearly escaped her throat, frustration building up in her. The hoarse vibration of breathing intensified after each intake of breath beside her. Elena opened her eyes, staring hard toward the headliner. Trouble falling asleep was a consequence she'd grown to live with for months, but having her own personal soundtrack to make certain that didn't change was just insult to injury. Sighing aloud, Elena sat up from the backseat of the pickup.
The nights were still fairly cold, adjusting to the climate from winter to spring. Every night they had the heater running before turning in, to have the cab warm enough to sleep the night, but that had been over an hour ago and the heat had long since dissipated. Elena retreated her cold hands into the long sleeves of her hoodie, the metal tip of her zipper feeling like ice against her nose that she buried into her collar.
"T," she called to the body that lay sprawled across the front seat. His limbs twitched slightly, a breath hitching in his throat. Then another loud vibration of breath escaped from him.
"T!"
T-Dog jolted, groggy eyes shooting open with halfhearted alarm. He searched the interior of the pickup for a moment, awareness coming to him ever so slowly. When his dark eyes reached hers, peering at him above the backrest, he regarded her cocked brow with an irritated sigh.
"What?"
"You're snoring."
He pursed his lips at the claim, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and settling himself back comfortably. Closing back his eyes, he snorted. "I don't snore."
Elena rolled her eyes. "Right, 'cause your silence is why I can't sleep."
T-Dog kissed his teeth, his brow crinkling in displeasure. He always was the one to be cranky when he woke up by the forces of anyone but himself.
"Then go sleep with Daryl."
"He's not the cuddling type," Elena replied, shaking her head at the suggestion.
"Maybe 'cause you talk too much."
With a shift of his shoulder, T-Dog turned his back to her, ending the conversation from there. Asshole, Elena thought ruefully, but her heart wasn't in it. Like an older brother, Theodore Douglas was easy to hate and love at the same time.
A yawn cracked her jaw open, so strong that it watered her eyes. Elena rubbed at them and rested her temple against the headrest of the left seat, gazing out the tinted rear window to the cargo bed. The figure of Daryl Dixon still lay over the bed from where he retired from watch duty an hour ago. Since the weather had gotten considerably better, the hunter had escaped to the back of the pickup for more space to sprawl. A small part of Elena assumed it was mostly to get away from T-Dog's terrible snoring and had it not been so cold, she may have made the move herself. She'd thought about joining him, especially on nights as bad as these where T-Dog's snoring was as loud as the engine on the Triumph, but like each time she talked herself out of it. Daryl had the body heat of a furnace, leaving the frigid air nothing but a calming breeze against his skin. The desire to nestle against him in this temperature would be a temptation that would already take hold. The fear of pushing his boundaries were stupid, she knew, but hell, she was exhausted and irritated, the last thing she wanted to deal with was an uncomfortable moody Daryl that still needed to be coerced into physical intimacy.
Elena's eyelids grew heavy in the passing minutes, her fatigue taking advantage of the precious silence T-Dog was giving her before falling fast asleep where his snores would become the chorus to her unfortunate insomnia. The tightening of her muscles loosened, her body relaxing against the seat as her breathing slowed, calmed. She was in and out when she heard voices outside, muffled and quick that she couldn't quite grasp an understanding for what was being said. Her brow furrowed for a moment, confusion having her wonder whether she was dreaming now or still conscious.
"What's the matter?"
"A herd—they just came out of the forest like some kinda damn raid party!"
"Jesus…Maggie, go wake the others now. Glenn, grab the guns!"
The slight sway of the pickup had her opening her eyes, movement in her peripheral having her turn attention to the rear window. Daryl jumped off the cargo bed and equipped his crossbow apace. Blinking, Elena straightened herself, following her sight after Daryl as he jogged around the truck.
"T-Dog. Hey!" Elena reached over and shook him awake.
The man groaned in exasperation. "What now?"
"Something's up."
T-Dog whispered something unintelligible before setting himself up right. Pulling her holster with her, Elena jumped out of the cab, stretching her neck for where Daryl had gone. He stood by Rick aside the Chevy, speaking with him quietly while the two of them double checked the ammunition on their larger artillery.
"What's going on?" she questioned quickly when she reached them.
"We were followed," Rick answered her simply before twisting his wrist to look at his watch.
The skies were still pitch black, the moon barely illuminating the surfaces around her. Elena quickly began buckling her holster around her thigh when Daryl nodded her to do so. Glenn then came sprinting toward them, the Mossberg clenched in his fist.
"Rick, they're coming from the north road."
"Shit." Rick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Elena bit her lip in response. The north road was where they were headed when dawn approached. At least that was the plan. Glenn had them navigating from Emanual, across Talbot, heading north to the small city Newnan in Coweta County. Normally they avoided the major cities because of the populace of walkers, but the need of provisions was far more important. But now with another herd stepping in their path, Elena suspected that they'd be delayed their travels a couple of days just like last week.
"What do we do?" Elena prodded.
"We can head back the route, move around?" Glenn suggested, a small note of uncertainty in his voice.
"Ain't got the fuel to do that again," Daryl interjected.
"Daryl's right." Rick nodded. "We can't afford another setback. We need to head north like we planned."
"Gotta get the herd off our asses." Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, turning his neck and looking over Elena's head. He then waved his hand toward the direction of the Dodge. "I'mma take my bike, lead 'em back to that neighbourhood we looted."
"Alone?"
"I'll go," Elena immediately volunteered.
"Rick! Hey, guys!" Maggie called out, slapping her hand against the hood of the Chevy to catch their attention. "We need to go now!"
Elena could hear the crackling of dry leaves and twigs snapping somewhere in the distance. The stench of walkers drifted on the breeze, masking the petrichor in the air. Suddenly Elena found it difficult to breathe, aware of the tight seconds passing.
"Keep 'em running," Daryl told Rick, gesturing toward the vehicles. "Head for the road when we got 'em on us."
Rick nodded. "We'll wait for you."
Exchanging the nod, Daryl tightly grasped Elena's arm, pulling her with him. "C'mon."
Elena jogged for the Triumph with him, passing T-Dog whom yelled at them to be careful. Daryl hopped on the motorcycle, lending her his bow to hold.
"Should I get—"
"Ain't got time. Get on!"
Elena casted a short glance at the Dodge where she knew her crowbar was left useless in the backseat. She still had her switchblade in her pocket if she needed it. Throwing the crossbow over her shoulder, Elena straddled the space behind Daryl, tightening her body against his back and winding her arms around his waist. Daryl kick started the two wheeler, kicking up the gravel as he barrelled passed the parked vehicles toward the direction of the herd. He idled for a minute or two, revving the engine where it roared obnoxiously like a taunt to the undead. The walkers that were fresh—reanimated for the least amount of the time than the others—shambled faster, pushing passed their dead colleagues that struggled after.
Holding tightly with the leverage of her left hand griping Daryl's vest, Elena curled her fingers in her mouth, blowing the high pitch of a wolf whistle. She didn't know if it was helping or whether they could hear it over the engine, but Daryl used it as a signal to move forward, pushing his heels against the ground to get the tires turning. When the frontlines of the herd were close enough, several feet away from them, Daryl pushed the weight of the Triumph away, keeping a safe distance before picking up speed.
"Hold on!" Daryl shouted over the noise of the exhaust.
Elena flattened her cheek against his shoulder blade when the wind grew stronger with powerful force, loosening the tresses of her hair from her braid and whipping behind. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder at the dark mass of the herd following after like a flock of sheep dawdling behind their shepherd.
Rick lifted his hand to his face, shielding his eyes from the drizzle that was beginning to become aggressive as the cracks of lightening lit the skies. He leaned his arm against the opened door to the driver seat of the Chevy pickup, narrowing his eyes across the distance and down the road. For a brief moment, his eyes met that of Carl's whom sat with his legs hanging out of the backseat. His eyes the spitting image of his own, both in colour and expression. A muscle in his jaw tightened and Rick stared back toward the grave expressions of the others that stood idle by their vehicles.
"They've been gone a while," he heard Beth whisper toward her sister.
"They're fine," Maggie replied.
"How long should we wait?"
Rick lowered his eyes at the question, Carl staring up at him expectantly. "Give 'em time," Rick answered his son.
There was angst wafting in the air among the group, the whispers of worry drowned out by the crackle of thunder. Everyone was still on high alert since their haphazard run away from their camp, sheltered along the opened path toward a nearby farm. Glenn and Maggie had been keeping watch when a few walkers stumbled into their perimeter. But three became many when an onslaught of roamers spilled from the adjacent forest.
How a large herd had conveniently stumbled into their camp was beyond him, but the worry of its size had complete control of Rick's motive now. The throng of walkers had them trapped, cutting off the road that led to their destination. Driving around and finding another route was a decision far too risky to make. They had little fuel and even less time in the day to make that trip. The herd would follow after and that was an assumption that Rick would be stupid not to hinder.
They needed a decoy, something to deter the undead away from their path, and quick. Daryl had taken that responsibility, Elena volunteering as second. There was no better choice. Elena was fast on her feet, Daryl quick-witted and strong. There was no one more that Rick didn't trust to save them from the entrapment that the herd had the potential force. And somewhere in Rick's mind, he believed that wasn't the only herd miles away. Glenn recorded the sightings of herds as often as possible on the map they navigated with, the illustrated roads graffiti-ed with red ink almost at every turn. Rick had tried navigating the group to avoid the undead while still making progress in the areas they haven't stepped forth. However, there had been too many occurrences that they found themselves in areas where they had picked clean already, driving through different and familiar routes just so they wouldn't alert the herds into their path. But today made it became solely clear to him. It was inevitable.
The warmer weather had finally blessed them, thawing away winters cold that had them stagnant for so long. For a moment, it seemed like things were beginning to look up, like the hope that Rick was slowly suppressing was getting stronger by the day. It seemed evident now that spring was condemning them. The herds were growing in size and mobility, the heightening temperature melting the stiffness in their deteriorating bodies. They were growing aggressive once again; a concern that landed on the weight of Rick's already labored shoulders. They were low on food, low on gas, withheld from their travels to new given territory…
Rick could feel the strain behind his eyes, the ache in the mild headache forming at the back of his skull. He exhaled a controlled breath, his eyes catching the gaze of wise eyes. Hershel awarded him a short nod, a gesture of reassurance. Rick rubbed at his eyes slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose as the drizzle came down harder.
"Rick. Rick!"
His eyes shot open, the excitement of Maggie's voice startling him. There was a higher note to it, not of devastation, but relief. He heard the faint purr of an engine then and he narrowed his eyes down the distance. A dark shape was coming at them fast, the volume of the purr becoming a mechanical roar in its approach.
"Everyone! In the cars now!" Rick ordered. He waited until he saw every door slam shut and threw a quick glance as the motion blurred Daryl came barreling through, Elena clinging on behind him. The Triumph rushed passed them and Rick hopped inside the Chevy, putting the pickup into drive when the Hyundai and Dodge hurried after Daryl's lead. Rick was the last to follow, lowering his heavy foot on the accelerator, kicking up the rocks and broken debris of cracked asphalt with the rear tires, the rubber squealing against the wet road. The group hustled down the road with apprehension of death behind them.
"How's your arm?"
Daryl rolled his shoulder, stretching out the slight kinks that had settled in his joint. It was hurting a little more than usual. He'd been careful not to strain it as much as possible. It had been healing well for a couple of weeks now; Daryl didn't want to delay that any further. But flanking the herd earlier in the consideration of the group had been the most stress he had handled since then.
Elena caught his gaze in the small mirror he stood in front of, her eyes flickering from the silence of his answer. She lowered her eyes and continued applying the medical cream on the bruises of his back, massaging them in with gentle hands.
"They're looking a lot better," Elena whispered, the reflection of her lips behind him turning up in a small smile.
The cold ointment felt good against his hot skin, numbing away the small pinches of pain that he'd come accustomed to tolerating now. Momentarily, he closed his eyes; the pressure of her fingers kneaded the sore muscles in his back almost euphoric. Even now, having her touch on him was still something that Daryl hadn't really gotten use to. Hershel was the one to prescribe the medical ointment a couple of days after everything happened, offering it to Elena knowing she'd be adamant about putting it to good use. Albeit irritated at first, it was a ritual that had grown on him. Elena was careful and attentive to his healing injuries, and a lot of it Daryl believed was because she still felt responsible about the situation.
When he felt her warm hands finally leave his skin, Daryl turned to her, reaching for his denim that lay sprawled across the washroom sink and throwing it on. Elena sent him a small smile as she capped the tube of ointment and threw it into her backpack that lounged at her feet.
He'll admit that since the tension between them had diminished, he felt like he could breathe easier around her now. Something was different, and not in a bad way. It was as if any doubts, any second thoughts had ultimately silenced. And he suspected that a lot had to do with getting that confession off his chest. Since that time, they rarely argued. Maybe about some things but nothing deep and meaningful enough that led to fixed grudges. Daryl had forgotten what that was like, and the relieving silence was really refreshing.
Grabbing for his discarded leather vest, Daryl threw it on over his shirt, dropping his hands to the buttons to fasten them back up. Discreetly, he watched Elena at the corner of his eye as she ripped a piece of paper towel from the dispenser mounted against the wall, wiping the excess cream from her hands. Something odd caught his attention where it poked out from her side, secured by the tightness of her waistbelt around her hips. He remembered then when she had picked something off the grass, something important enough that had her reluctant from their escape of the herd.
"The hell's that?" he asked, jerking his chin toward it.
Elena raised a brow, her eyes following his and a grin tugged at her lips. She pivoted facing him and Daryl realized it was just a small stuffed toy rabbit, its artificial white fur crusted with dried patches of mud.
She shrugged one shoulder, undeterred by his questionable look. "I figured it'd be nice for Lori and Rick's baby to have at least something to play with."
Daryl exhaled a light hearted scoff, but it was tepid and insincere. Deep down her consideration for an infant that was yet to be born in the unfortunate bleak world warmed his thoughts from its impending liability. Lori's pregnancy had only been an afterthought to him, but Elena's awareness had him mindful of the soon to be newborn. He'd overheard her talking about it often with Beth and Carol, enthusiasm in her voice about meeting the little boy or girl. Daryl didn't understand the excitement at first. He regarded the pregnancy as another stepback in the already dark struggle of survival. But Elena had him realizing that to her, it was one of the few things that they still had to look forward too.
Sighing lightly, Elena stepped toward him, taking the remaining buttons of his shirt and fastening them for him, leaving the two below his collar opened as he normally had it. His blue eyes were watchful, drinking in the features of her face, her skin slightly darker from the sun they've been awarded before the days of spring rain came down. When her eyes lifted to his, he swallowed, her eyes flashing with an intensity that had him suddenly still. A strange heat began to envelop him, his body responded to the ember irises that locked with his.
Slowly, Elena curled her fingers around the collar of his vest and pulled him toward her, his legs giving in to the slight draw of force. Her lips were on his first, warm and soft, sparking a fire that inflamed him. Although familiar, it still to this day ignited that buzz that eluded Daryl's senses, fogging up his vitals and suddenly controlling his motions as he molded his mouth against hers. He pushed forward, flattening her back against the closed door behind her.
Hell, he missed this, the feel of her figure underneath him, how it shaped and curved against his. Daryl pressed deeper into her, his hands all over, moving with the adrenaline that still lingered in his veins from the morning. Elena sucked in a breath when he consciously bit down on her bottom lip, her body tensing from under him triggering the arousal that dilated his pupils. She fisted his hair then, her mouth growing ravage from the provocation. Daryl felt a sharp jolt below his waist, a need that electrified his limbs and laboured his breath that was growing hot and heavy—
"Hey guys!"
Daryl ripped his lips away from Elena's when a knocked rapped behind her head, Glenn's call behind the door giving him a moment of clarity.
"We're gettin' a bite to eat before we go. Hurry up."
A short growl vibrated within his throat and Daryl rested his forehead hard against the door just by Elena's ear.
"Coming," Elena responded to him, a small lilt of laughter in her voice.
He pulled away roughly from her, his expression miffed. Elena looked back toward him, biting down her lip as if she was trying to suppress a laugh. If he wasn't so pissed about Glenn interrupting in that moment, he'd be mad at her for thinking it was funny also.
She pulled her backpack from the floor, shrugging it over her shoulder before unlocking and opening the door for him. "After you, boyfriend."
"Shut up," Daryl retorted, looking away from the contagious smile that brightened her face. He walked out of the private washroom, down the hall to the dining area.
The group had taken refuge in a slight diner after two hours on the road without intermission. It appeared closed for several years, the windows boarded up, the signs falling over and cracked, the paint chipping away in chucks. The interior wasn't anything nicer. Layers of dust blanketed over the countertops and tables, the booth seating's ripped from rodents and critters that may have wandered by. But it was enclosed, secured and sheltered them from the raging rain storm that flooded the outside. Daryl could hear the hard drops of rain beat down on the roof of the building, some of it leaking inside from the corners. The group gathered in the middle of the diner, away from the leakage, sitting in the booths and the stools by the long counter that cut across the room. Daryl spotted Rick by one of the boarded up windows with Hershel, his arms folded in front of him while he peered through the gaps of the wooden boards nailed to the wall. Their leader met his eyes and gave him a short nod.
Everything was good, Daryl decided, they'd outsmarted danger for a decent amount of time.
When Elena brushed passed him, Daryl followed after to where she took a seat on a stool beside T-Dog whom waved her over. Daryl hoisted himself and sat atop the counter where his legs hung, before catching his portion of food that Maggie tossed to him.
"What are they talking about?" he heard Elena whisper to T-Dog while watching Glenn, Carl and Beth immersed in conversation.
"Talkin' 'bout what everyone did before the geeks came," he replied through a mouthful.
"Again?"
T-Dog shrugged.
It was a recurring discussion, something that came to light from lack of anything better to talk about. At times, Daryl listened with mild curiosity of who everyone was before everything. Only a few partook in the conversation. Sometimes, he himself was prodded for answers also, mostly by Elena, but he never humored her with one. That was a secret that Daryl didn't necessarily take pride in and he figured keeping it from her saved him the embarrassment. She'd dropped the questions after a while, but somehow Daryl knew he'd hear them again eventually.
"How about you, Elena?" Beth chimed in loudly over the table she sat at, a bright smile spreading across her young face.
The group turned their heads to her expectantly when Glenn interjected. "College dropout, remember?"
"Yeah, but she had to have some job," Beth said, a light note of challenge in her voice. "Before," she added.
Glenn grinned and gazed toward Elena patiently. She adjusted her seating, picking at the granola bar in her hands, a small nervous twitch to her fingers. Daryl cocked a brow and narrowed his eyes in speculation. She'd mentioned she was unemployed at the time, that much Daryl knew, but there had been no referral to anything before that. A short flare of curiosity perked his ears to listen further.
"I did," she finally answered and cleared her throat. "I uh, got fired."
T-Dog hackled beside her.
"What—really?" Maggie asked.
Elena shrugged slightly, sending a short glare to T-Dog who was still chuckling.
"Whatchu do?" he belted out.
"I was a bartender at a pub, just south of downtown Atlanta called Gibney's. I was always stuck working the ten hour shifts. A lot of regulars went there, old guys coming from work and whatever. One regular, a real asshole this guy, came in already pissed drunk. I wouldn't serve him and he called me some really colourful names." She inhaled a long breath. "So, I threw a drink in his face."
Beth raised her brows in surprise. "What he call you?"
"A good for nothing cunt."
Daryl grunted, louder than he meant to. Elena shot her eyes to him and he immediately looked away, trying to hide the ire that suddenly settled within him. Had he been there then, knowing her like he did know, all hell would have broken loose. And that asshole would have wished he'd never said a damn word.
"An' you got fired?" Maggie question incredulously.
"Apparently," Elena took the last bite of the bar before wiping her hands on her pants "he was a relative of the guy who leased the place to my boss. He wasn't there that night, but someone told him. Walked into my next shift and got canned on the spot."
Glenn grimaced. "That sucks."
Elena laughed without respite and shrugged her shoulders. "I can make a mean margarita though."
"Good 'cause you still owe me for that bottle of vodka," T-Dog remarked, slapping her shoulder.
Daryl unconsciously cleared his throat and hopped off the counter. His hasty retreat hadn't gone unnoticed. Elena glared at him through her lashes as he escaped from the responsibility of consuming that bottle of vodka himself. T-Dog suspected it was her after she admitted to 'borrowing' it and immediately condemned her to an I.O.U. Elena figured he'd have the obligation to bail her out, considering he was the reason she took T's stash in the first place, but Daryl never attempted the rescue. The two of them bickered like siblings and Daryl couldn't help finding amusement in it.
He remembered the days when he took up a seat in the Dodge and the hours of T-Dog nitpicking over Elena's driving. She wasn't a terrible driver by all means, but T-Dog somehow found it easy to pick on her. The new perspective had Daryl realizing that there was something charming about the anger that wrinkled her brows and tightened her jaw, maybe because that anger for once wasn't directed toward him. It definitely made those long hours on the road entertaining.
The glare of disappointment said it all, and then she mouthed the word 'coward' to him. Daryl fleeringly sent her a small grin before turning away and fleeing over to the direction of the boarded up windows. Rick roused from his state of muse, his spine straightening at the hunter's approach. Beside him, Hershel lowered his voice, whispering something inaudible to him before giving Daryl a kind, inviting smile. Daryl cocked a brow in mild interest.
There was closeness between the two, a quiet bond that had since grown from the moment they left the Greene farm. Rick looked to Hershel for advice, maybe even support—something that Daryl knew he couldn't provide, which was a constant reassurance and emotional stability. Lately, it seemed like Rick was searching for that in Hershel more than ever.
Daryl greeted the two with a nod before tilting his chin to the boards of plywood nailed to the windows. "How's it lookin'?"
Rick folded his hands out in front of him and shrugged one shoulder. "Rain's still heavy, but I can see a break in the clouds. Once it lets up, we'll head back out."
Stepping forward, Daryl took a gander through the gap between the boards no bigger than an inch. The rain came down fast, rippling the flood of water that covered the car lot. The overcast was spreading in the distance, beams of sunlight pouring down through the cracks between clouds.
"How much of a head start do we got over that herd?"
"Hours," he answered Rick without looking at him. "Got a car stereo to attract 'em." He turned to him then. "Dunno how long that car's been sittin' though."
Rick nodded his head in understanding. "We'll stay for another fifteen; let the group catch their breaths."
With that suggestion, Rick turned his head back to the others, his eyes thoughtful and holding latent care. Momentarily, Daryl followed his gaze unsure whether he was looking to Elena and the others laughing over by the counter, or Carol and Lori that sat quietly across one another in a corner booth.
"I'll let them know," Hershel announced before leaning away from the wall and sauntering to the direction of his daughters.
At the mention of their soon to be leave, Elena decided to peel away from the conversation of old movies and made her way toward the two women that sat by the corner booth, isolated from the others. Lori and Carol often did converse more so with one another than anyone else, usually about relative girl talk whether it was about the pregnancy, family, food, whatever. Elena often joined in if it was relevant to her, but more times found herself having nothing to contribute to their conversations. She figured now she had a little something to be able to.
"Hey," Elena greeted when their eyes met hers.
"Everything alright, honey?" Lori asked her, a short crack in her voice.
"Yeah." Carol shifted over, allowing her space on the seat. "Just have something"—Elena pulled at the cotton stuffed rabbit still cinched in her waistbelt—"here."
Lori furrowed her brow for a moment, her hand hesitant before reaching for the toy.
"Sorry it's a little dirty." Elena shrugged. "But I thought it would be nice for the baby to have—use to have one just like it as a kid."
As she took it, Elena saw the short movement of Lori's other arm as she stroked her swollen belly under the table. She smiled kindly, but there was dullness behind her eyes like they had lost all colour.
"Good for the baby to have something to play with," Carol said, giving Elena an encouraging smile.
Lifting her eyes, Lori's expression brightened a bit. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this."
"Sure I did. Little one will be born soon; it's customary to give a gift."
"I'm not sure the old traditions really apply anymore," Lori replied. "But this is a fine gift."
"Do you know when you're due yet?"
"Hershel thinks a couple of weeks or so," Carol answered for her.
Elena's brows rose. "Already?"
"Time flies," Lori replied, the lilt in her voice completely void.
Elena frowned with awareness. Since she had joined the group, Elena always saw Lori as somewhat morose. She rarely smiled and almost always had this distant look in her eyes like she was looking into a dark future. The older woman masked her emotions well, but Elena on more than one occasion caught the shine in her eyes that looked as if she was on the verge or had just finished crying. She'd mistakenly dismissed it as those pesky pregnancy hormones, but there was a trigger there underneath all that grief. And it had gotten worse since the last couple of weeks.
Lori was nearing her due date and she was scared as hell.
"I'm sure it'll be okay," Elena told her, almost grimacing at how that sounded to her own ears.
The sun was beating down in full force through the small pocket of clarity that the raging clouds allowed, the heat from the rays adding to the sticky humidity in the air. Elena pulled back the strands of her hair that stuck to her face, her skin slick and cool with sweat. Even as she flailed the end of her tank top back and forth, creating a breeze to cool off her body, it didn't make the incredible humidity any easier to bear.
The sunlight was strong enough to moisten her eyes, making them sting even as she shielded them with the palm of her hand. With the clouds rolling back in, fiercer than ever, Elena hoped that it would start drizzling again soon, at least then it would make their physical labor that much effortless.
Within a couple of hours of heading back on the road, the group had found themselves in the midst of a residential part of the route to Coweta. Taking advantage of the yielding rain that had lingered on intermission for thirty minutes so far, Rick had the team set to loot the vacant houses for anything and everything. Two houses over and all they had to show for their efforts were few semi-potent batteries, little clothing, couple rolls of tape and a mass of individuals that sweltering under the Georgian temperature.
Elena never experienced the temperature this high—but then again, she spent her days of Georgia Spring in the comfort of air-conditioned rooms and the shade from Atlanta skyscrapers. She'd been tempted to take a bottle of water from her pack and pour it down her head, but that wasn't necessarily a good enough use to their limited resource. It was tantalizing as hell though.
Taking a deep breath, Elena tried to grab her bearings for the next house, knowing very well that heat in there was going to be scalding with the sun pouring in through broken windows and doors. Elena took the bottle of water that Carl offered her with a passing hand before following his father up the walkway to the gray bungalow ahead. She took the sustenance with starch lips and threw the empty contents in the back of the Dodge pickup parked by the curb. Beth was keeping watch of the vehicles while Glenn, Maggie and T-Dog cleared another house for Hershel, Carol and Lori to search from top to bottom for necessities.
The area was quiet, the road strewn with abandoned sheets of newspapers, now wet and flattened against the asphalt—plastic bags curled around the branches of nearby trees, flapping from the wind that so rarely came by. And even if it did, somehow it didn't cool the tension that lingered on Elena's muscles. She found herself looking over her shoulder more than once, sniffing the air for the smell of decomposition. There was no sign of the herd, or any walker for that matter, but there was something about the place that pricked at the back of her neck. Something off. She'd been trying to figure out what it was for over half an hour now.
A short whistle had her drop back to reality then, twisting her neck to Daryl that waited for her by the front steps. Adjusting the strap of her backpack, Elena briskly made her way up the walk. Rick and Carl were already peering through the front windows for movement, living or undead. They'd been lucky so far, but there was something casual about their approach, like there was no fear or anxiety, just preparedness. It showed a lot in Daryl's posture as he stood with one booted foot on a step and his crossbow slung over a shoulder. His relaxed demeanor calmed the nagging feeling in the back of her head, but only slightly.
Elena averted her eyes to the front lawn of dead grass that lay in patches of wet soil. The nature of it was so desaturated of lively colour that something other than dry yellow and brown instantly caught her eye. A small bed of purple flowers grew at the side of the cemented walkway, just by Daryl's boot, the colour so rich that it had Elena bent down on her knee to inspect. Daryl stepped out of her way before hovering behind her.
"What?" he asked, wondering if she was seeing something he couldn't.
Elena reached her hand down to a pathetic looking small bush of flowers that were barely beginning to bloom among the carnage of dead weeds and other flower beds that lined against the walkway. Daryl opened his mouth to scold her back into the task at hand, but yielded in preamble when her eyes lifted to his. They blazed with an intensity that caught him off guard, reflecting the natural glaze that looked shiner than usual.
"Nothing," she finally answered, her eyes lowering again. There was a long pause before she continued. "Toni used to buy these for my sister all the time. Azalea's were her favourite."
Her voice was so low, just barely a whisper that Daryl had to wonder whether she was telling him this or just thinking aloud. It was something that he'd noticed more than once, the fact that she spoke little about her sister than about Toni, whom wasn't really even a relative of hers. He'd been curious about why that was so. Even if she'd mentioned that as sisters they didn't get along very well—hell, neither did Daryl and Merle in the general sense—but he didn't necessarily think that was the reason.
"Ya never talk 'bout her," he decided to say. "Yer sister," he added then when she stood back up.
Elena met his eyes again. This time they were big, burning with repressed emotions before she blinked them away.
"It's easier that way."
Her words had him thoughtful, even after Rick called out to them and Elena left his view and hopped the small flight of steps to the porch and front door. Daryl glanced at the small bed of azaleas one final time before swinging his bow back in his hands and following after.
The hinges of the front door squealed an ominous pitch as Rick eased it open before he lifted the suppressed Glock in his grip in front of him. Carl followed his lead into the front foyer, his silenced Beretta also straight in his fisted grasp. Rick's cowboy boots clicked against the hardwood flooring as he stocked the hall, leering around the corner before turning to the other three.
"Carl, help Elena clear upstairs, we'll sweep the lower levels," he instructed, nodding his head to Daryl afterwards.
Carl nodded, the sheriff hat bobbing slightly on his head. Elena stepped in front to the direction of the stairs,when Daryl sent her a stern look that could only translate into his way of saying 'be careful'. As they separated, Elena took lead with Carl at the rear who nearly hopped on his toes with excitement. It wasn't that she didn't trust him in front, it was just a tactic that they both agreed on when they cleared the houses before. If there was anything up there, she'd attack first and if she missed, Carl was there to back her up with that good shot dexterity that she'd admit she was envious of.
Holding her crowbar close to her side, Elena heaved herself up the last step where it curved into a hall. She flattened herself against the wall and peered around the corner.
"See anything?" Carl whispered beside her.
She shook her head. The hall stretched far where it led to several other rooms, some of the doors ajar and others closed. Elena focused on her hearing but could only pick up on Rick's and Daryl's slow footsteps downstairs. She sighed before doing a double take on a tennis ball that looked to have been once a dog's chew toy. She grabbed the rotting ball from the floor before bouncing it down hard against the floorboards and catching it back in her fist.
Nothing.
Elena advanced her steps down the hall, bouncing the ball every so often against the floor or the wall when she neared a room. Carl poked his head into the first room, kicking the door open wider. Elena waited until he signalled her with a shake of his head. In return she gave him a thumbs up to continue where he jumped in, in hopes for something valuable to take.
Rick nearly pulled the trigger, his heart beating quick before he realized the silhouette in the corner was nothing but a gaudy grizzly bear statue carved into wood. Daryl breezed past him to doorway that Rick assumed led to the living room. All that remained were the minimal items, décor that had no use now. Dust layered over the dark wood of furniture, painted with streaks of fingerprints possibly days old over the some surfaces. Rick suspected this area had been previously looted, evidence suggested so. But it didn't mean that everything worth taken was.
Sauntering across the room, Rick reached over the backrest of a sofa and curled his fingers around a wrinkled blanket left on the cushions. He pulled it over the rest, in view to take for when they decided to leave. He continued ahead through another doorway and found himself in the kitchen. Daryl was ahead of the curve, throwing open cabinets and cupboards.
A long breath exhaled through Rick's nostrils at the empty shelves, the image more expectant than disappointing. Rick realized then that entering this place, he didn't have any expectation to begin with. Everywhere they went it was at least looted once before. To find a place untouched was a rare thing, even in a lonely area as rural Georgia.
"Slim pickin's," Rick whispered, reaching for a can of what smelled like nearly expired tuna left by the sink. Two thirds of the can was empty, leaving behind fish meat cold and dry. Rick threw it into the sink.
"Mmhm," Daryl hummed and swung open another door. "Ah, here we go."
Rick looked up before reflex had him catching a bottle of Advil thrown to him. It wasn't much, but it was one supply they were low of.
A whine had Rick stilling his fingers when twisting the bottle in his palm. He lifted his eyes thinking for a moment it was coming from his son or Elena, the weight straining the old flooring on the upper level. His eyes widened then with realization.
Rick turned swiftly on his heel, so fast that for a second he was light-headed. But his concentration had him stabled, had his arm steady as he aimed toward the door behind him.
"Oh shit."
Like a deer in headlights, a man stood frozen, the knob slipping from his fingers as the wind from the outside forced the door open wider, the whining from the hinges loud in the cold silence. Slowly and automatically, his empty hands rose in surrender.
Rick didn't move, didn't lower his gun. His keen eyes scanned with cautious consideration, the profile of another living human being in his eyes almost strange. The man's eyes darted with what Rick almost mistaken for fear. In reality, the man's gaze was calculating, careful as he studied him from head to toe before averting to Daryl behind the island counter whom shadowed Rick's offense position.
Standing just above six foot, the man's expression shifted, a small smile spreading his lips that almost looked friendly.
"I ain't armed," he said. "Just got my knife, that's all."
Rick's eyes shifted quickly to the sheathed tactical knife that hung from his waist, the hilt just barely poking out from underneath his brown vintage leather jacket. There were no other weapons visible, at least none he could see.
The man straightened his posture before lowering one hand to scratch the salt and pepper stubble that grew from his square jaw. "Look, I'm just a survivor like the rest of ya'll. Go ahead, pat me down."
Exchanging a glance with his right hand man, Daryl gave him a quick nod. Rick lowered his gun onto the island counter and approached him.
"Don't do anythin' stupid."
The man gave a short nod and folded his hands behind his head patiently. Carefully, Rick patted him down from head to toe, wary of the knife at his waist. However, just like the man said, he felt nothing else bulging at his sides. When he was done, Rick took a safe step back and watched him as his hands smoothed down his short dark hair before dropping to his sides.
For a moment, Rick thought of the blanket left on the sofa and then at the can of tuna that lay thrown in the sink. He met the man's dark eyes and gestured to him with a jerk of his chin. "You live here?"
"Been for a couple a days," he answered, his eyes averting to Daryl's, whom still stood with his crossbow aimed. He leaned his elbow against the edge of the counter beside him, undaunted by the hostility that the hunter was sending his way. "Name's Victor."
"Rick," Rick said after a long minute. He inhaled slowly, smelling for the stench of warning that this man may emit. But he stood with a nonchalant manner, a grin still creasing his lips like he was happy to see a couple of fresh faces.
Glancing at the can in the sink, Rick looked to the man again. "You alone?"
The grin on Victor's face faltered, leaving behind a haunted face that deepened the wrinkles on his skin. He leaned away from the counter reaching toward a stray mug and tossing it back and forth in his hands.
"Have been for awhile now," he answered, his baritone voice smooth. "Use to be part of a bigger group." Victor lifted his chin for a moment, observing the two of them with regard. "Hope you two ain't here lookin' for food. Place been picked clean a hell of a long time ago."
"So, why you still 'ere?" Daryl speculated. The crossbow was lowered but still nestled in his hands. Rick could see the tightness in his grip at the twitch of the muscles in his exposed arms.
Victor grinned again, teeth peeking out with silent laughter. "Place is quiet. Cozy."
Daryl sighed and met Rick's eyes in question. But for once in a very long time, Rick had no answers to give. Although still high on alert, Victor wasn't giving off any red flags despite the slight hint of narcissism in his tone. He was older than himself, maybe in his mid forties. But he held himself together well. Rick didn't know how it was even possible for anyone to survive alone. Strength in numbers had been a survivalist rule that he'd learn from the very moment he met Glenn Rhee.
"Was thinkin' of heading back out when the rain clears," Victor continued. "That was two days ago."
"Rain stopped," Daryl informed with a petulant toss of his arm.
"No shit, I was just out there." He turned, swinging the back door shut behind, but keeping it slightly ajar to peer outside. "'nother storm will be pissin' down soon though." Victor faced them again, juggling the mug in his hands absently. "Where you boys headed?"
Rick retrieved his Glock from the counter and lowered it tight to his side. "North."
"Nice. Was thinkin' of heading to the coast myself."
The tenseness on Rick's shoulders loosened slightly at that. He'd been waiting for the man to invite himself into their party, ask for supplies that they didn't have enough to spare. Victor was headed in their opposite way, no reason for him to ask for a ride neither. Hooking a thumb on his belt, Rick leaned against the edge of the counter behind him, less inclined to be defensive than he thought a few seconds ago. Daryl too held his bow away by his side, shifting on his step as he veered his eyes from the man to Rick.
When the clamor of loud thumps echoed across the house, the man jerked blatantly, immediately wired. Then he looked back to the other men and lowered his unease at their composed manner.
"Got more men with you?"
Daryl narrowed his eyes at the question. It was innocent, curious but there was an underlining undertone that caught Daryl's attention. He didn't know whether it was his characterization of distrusting anyone that they came across with, but there was something about the guy that yelled out bullshit. As normal as he looked, there was a spark in Victor's eyes that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and Daryl rarely deafened his ears from his instincts.
At the note of footsteps, Daryl twisted his neck to the doorway. Elena took her leisure across the living room, tossing a ragged tennis ball in her hand with Carl at her heels.
"Nothing up there," she briefed before stepping into the kitchen. Her eyes left his.
The silence between the men in the kitchen broke when the tennis ball in Elena's hand fell from her grip and bounced off the tiled floor with beat of measured thuds. For a second, Daryl thought she missed catching it while tossing it in the air again, but what happened next had him disoriented unexpectingly.
Rick immediately pulled away from the counter, his hand outstretched.
"Whoa, whoa! Hey, thought we were cool here," Victor exclaimed, his hands up defensively again.
"Elena," Rick called out to her, taking a careful step forward away from the line of fire. "Put the gun down."
Elena stood straight on her heels, her arm locked and her pistol tight in her hand, the muzzle aimed toward the stranger. The Glock had a noticeable tremble in her grip.
Daryl furrowed his brow, looking into her face that looked ghostly white, her hazel eyes wide and gleaming with something that Daryl's confusion wouldn't allow him to figure out. Carl stepped to her side, his Beretta in front of him but lowered as if unsure whether he should be aiming also. He looked to his father for an answer.
Rick shook his head and returned his gray eyes to the horror faced woman. She neither acknowledged him nor anyone else around her, her eyes fastened on the man with an attentiveness that made Daryl wary.
He stepped to her, reaching out his fingers to her arm. Elena flinched away with her aim still fixed.
"Put the gun down," Rick said again, gesturing to the floor with the palm of his hand. "It's alright."
Elena shook her head and began chewing on her bottom lip. Daryl realized then in this distance that the gleam in her eyes were tears. He looked back at Victor, but the man stood with a cocked brow, his hands still up in the air. If Elena recognized him, he wasn't showing any sign of mutual regard.
"You wanna lower the gun, sweetheart?" Victor then said, mustering a small friendly smile.
"Shut up," she blurted, her voice thick with strong emotion.
"He's not an enemy."
"He's lying." Her words cracked as she looked back to Rick, her Glock still trembling.
Rick's brow wrinkled at the claim. And for a second, Daryl thought he saw a slight twitch in Victor's jaw, but it was so fast that he wondered if Elena's caution had him imagining it.
"You know 'im?" Daryl asked her.
Elena's jaw quivered and the Glock in her grasp shook even more.
"Can't say I remember you," Victor remarked.
"You're so full of shit," she hissed. "You—your group—you took everything from me. I sure as hell remember you."
The twitch in the muscle of his jaw returned again and this time Daryl was sure he saw it. The smile soon faded from Victor's face, his right hand clenching tighter the mug he still held. In response, Daryl's muscles flexed, lifting his bow from the relaxed state he had it. The tension surrounding them tightened the space, the silence gradually tightening it even more. Daryl exchanged a quick glance with Rick, who looked just as tense as he felt.
"You got me mixed with someone else."
There was a distinct change in Victor's tone, like he was telling her rather than suggesting it. There was a darkness in his eyes also that Daryl didn't like one bit. Subtlety, he moved his fingers around the handgrip of his crossbow, steadying it ready in his arms. Victor's eyes shot to him, the action catching his attention. When he returned his narrowed eyes back to Elena, he looked at her thoughtfully for a long period of time. Daryl's heart in his chest began beating faster, apprehensive. Then Victor's eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring with what Daryl could only guess as comprehension.
Daryl's breath caught in his throat.
"Get down!"
He dived, pulling Elena down with him when the mug came rushing toward her like a bullet ripping through sound and air. The ceramic exploded behind them, creating a hole in the dry wall as big as a fist. The shards of the dismembered mug fell onto Daryl's hair and shoulders and he shook them off when the back door slamming opened had him pause.
Elena writhed underneath him and pulled out of his grasp. She scrambled back on her feet and jogged around the island counter with such speed that gave Daryl or even Rick little time to react. She disappeared through the opened back door in haste with her Glock clenched in a heavy grip.
"Elena!"