Let me thank everyone for realizing the work I put into the last chapter, especially the beginning. I hated to write it, but as far as the story went, I had no choice if I was going to stay true to the story. Y'alls reviews keep me going! Thank you all!
"Oh god...baby...oh god..."
Norm was caught halfway between elation that he had found Kaye alive and panic at the extent of her injuries. He kept repeating himself while running his hands over her torso. Only when he realized his hands were sticky did he register that her face was still bleeding. He reached back and tore off his shirt and vest in one motion, throwing the vest to one side to wad up the shirt and press it to the side of her face. She flinched back when it made contact and he jumped, but then pressed back down.
"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry baby...gotta get somethin on it..."
She nodded weakly, exhaustion setting in. Norm pulled her deeper into his lap, lost to the outside world for the moment, which was how he missed the sound of running footsteps approaching. She was looking over his shoulder at the door when Martinez ran through it. He actually skidded to a stop, that's how surprised he was to see his 'preciosa' free and in the arms of her 'junkyard dog'. He stumbled as he immediately tried to turn back out of the room and Kaye was fast.
Terror does that to you.
She had Norm's gun out of his holster before Cesar could regain his footing and it went off just behind Norm's head before he could figure out what she was doing. Martinez jerked back, a hole blown in his right thigh. She had been aiming for the center of his chest but her hands weren't steady because of the injuries to her wrists. Martinez hit the floor of the hallway right outside of the door, writhing in pain.
Norm, not knowing what was going on behind him, reached up out of instinct, knocking the gun out of Kaye's hand and spun around as best he could on his knees while holding Kaye to him. As soon as he saw who it was he shoved her behind him and dove to retrieve his gun where it lay just out of reach. Martinez had one hand on his thigh, trying to stop the blood as it ran down while his other hand tried to paw his own gun from his waistband. Then there was more running and Martinez was over shadowed and then crushed under two very large bodies.
Norm came up with his gun but found his target already subdued. Tyreese had Martinez up and in a choke hold while Merle took his gun and knife.
"What we doing, Norm?" Tyreese asked, knowing this was their sergeant at arms catch.
"How is it downstairs?"
"Cleared. Jim's got pressure on Barry's wound, looks like a through and through."
"Where..." Merle began.
"That way." Norm pointed the direction Daryl had went less than ten minutes before. "Their pres has Amber, Daryl was right behind'em."
"She's hurt bad." Kaye rasped out, face half hidden under Norm's shirt. He looked down at his wife behind him, suddenly aware that her shirt and bra were cut open. Before he could turn back around a wad of black cloth came sailing over his shoulder.
"How bad?" asked a now shirtless and facing the other way Merle Dixon. "Bad as you, sugar?"
"Lot worse..."
"Aw FUCK!" Merle yelled as he took off down the hall the way his brother had gone.
"So what do we do with him?" Tyreese asked, Martinez still futilely struggling. Norm was helping Kaye slip on Merle's t-shirt.
"Take'im back to the clubhouse. I'll deal with him later. I gotta get her to the hospital first. Two guards at all times, full members, no prospects."
Tyreese nodded and then said to Martinez. "Come on, motherfucker, you just earned a ticket to hell...then we might let you die."
As he left, Kaye pushed at Norm and waved her hand in the direction the Dixons left in. "Go...help..."
Norm shook his head. "No, you gotta go! Daryl and Merle..."
Kaye hit his chest harder, franticly shaking her head. "No!" she rasped, "I'm okay for now...hurry! He'll kill her!"
TWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAUTWDAU
There was no where to hide on the roof of the office building. It was perfectly flat except for a few metal folding chairs and ashtrays scattered around the door. Apparently it used to be a covert smoking area for employees when the building was in use. The lack of hiding places evened the odds a bit for all three persons involved. It was lit by a single naked bulb hanging next to the door on the outside. Daryl reached up cautiously and pulled the chain as he stepped through the door, fully expecting the bulb to be blown. Instead, it cast an instant weak glow over the surrounding area, assisted only a couple of street lights three stories below, the moon having already set for the night. Daryl hated to give away his position like that but he couldn't risk a close quarters shot in almost darkness with Amber held hostage.
They were against the far side, he saw them immediately. Amber was sitting out in front of one of the half walls that bordered the roof. Even in his cold hunter mindset, Daryl had to fight to not run to her, to do so would only earn her a bullet from the gun aimed at her head. One whole side of her face was swollen grotesquely with one eye shut and that side of her lip split open and bleeding. A patch of hair on the side of her head looked sticky and matted to her head, probably from when she screamed his name and got pistol whipped for the effort. She was sitting with both legs out in front of her but the right one was bent at an unnatural angle that made his stomach lurch. He knew that it was either broken or the knee is dislocated, possibly both. It's already so swollen that it looked like her jeans are cutting off the circulation, which would explain why she wasn't screaming in pain. Both her wrists and forearms are covered in half dried blood and he can see the open places where she had hung from the hand cuffs. In fact, they still hung from one delicate wrist, the blood caked metal glinting dully in the dim light. She wavered in her sitting position in the second he took to look her over and he knew she was fighting to stay conscious. Then his eyes caught sight of the dark, nearly black stain that enveloped the entire crotch of her jeans, spreading up her zipper.
Despite all that, he also saw the look of relief on her face when he stepped through the door and turned on the light.
She had been waiting for him.
Amber was alive, and Daryl tried to focus on that. His hunter instinct was barely hanging on, he could feel animalistic rage, hot and careless bubbling up. So he focused on the fact she was breathing, she was awake, at least for the moment. His biggest fear, that Daryl wouldn't even admit to himself the whole night, had been that he would find her body, too late to even save her life.
The man holding her didn't look like a biker, despite the black clothing. He looked like he belonged in an office in a bank or maybe one of those high rise buildings in Atlanta. Then his eyes met Daryl's, and he knew where he really belonged was a mental institution.
Or hell.
"Ah, mon cher, I believe your archer has joined us." He was crouching behind her, his back to the half wall. "My name is Philip Blake."
What the fuck? What did that psycho expect him to do, shake hands?
"Let'er go." Daryl commanded, trying to keep his voice even, instinctively choosing to treat the lunatic like a cornered animal.
"I cannot, I'm afraid. I need you to close that door behind you."
Amber shook her head once at Daryl and he saw Philip's arm tighten around her neck before he spoke in her ear. "No cheating on the exam, mon cher, or I'll go ahead and fail you both, yeah?" He pressed the gun harder into her temple. "Now shut the door, Daryl. It is Daryl, isn't it? It's you she so inelegantly bellowed for downstairs, yes?"
Daryl answered by kicking the door shut behind him, not dropping the bow or losing his sights on the man to do it. He took a step forward as the door shut, hoping Philip wouldn't notice with the other movement.
"Now latch it."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I blow her pretty head apart." Philip cocked the gun.
"Leave Daryl." Amber said, voice slurred.
He shook his head. "Not without you, girl."
This seem to amuse Philip, who chuckled. "How precious, cher. Self sacrifice and all that." He let the hand around her neck drift down to a breast and he slid his fingers under the neckline of her shirt to cup it. Amber winced around her bruised features and Daryl felt his brain, his sanity, begin to slide apart. He was going to have to do something, soon.
Philip grinned. "I said latch the door, Daryl."
Daryl reached behind him and fumbled the bar latch shut. No one could get to them in time to help now. If she died, it would be because he fucked up. "Now the bow. Drop it."
"No!" Amber said, almost mumbling because of the swelling in her face. Philip's arm tightened back around her neck, pulling her to sit up straight with her head tilted back. "Shut UP!" he hissed, his facade cracking.
Just then something collided with the door, rattling it on it's hinges behind Daryl. They all three jumped. It hit again.
"Dammit!" Merle cursed from the other side.
"Call them off! NOW!" Philip commanded, jerking Amber to stand upright with him, still behind her so there was no safe shot.
"Merle, NO!" Daryl yelled without turning.
"Bro?"
"NO GODDAMMIT! BACK THE FUCK OFF OR HE'LL SHOOT HER!"
"A'ight. I'm gone."
Silence descended on the rooftop again for a few moments.
"Now the bow." Philip said, having regained some of his fragile mood.
He hesitated, knowing without the bow he stood little chance. But if Philip pulled the trigger, there would be no chance, so he finally slid it down to the ground. Amber's face crumpled and she sobbed.
"Don't, girl, it's gonna be a'ight." Daryl said evenly, trying to keep her focused on him.
Philip shook his head. "There you people go with the hope again. It's sad really. All this little bitch could talk about was how you were going to kill me."
"I am."
Philip smirked. "With what, your bare hands against a gun? She shut up after I showed her how a real man treats a lady anyway."
Daryl just looked at him, he knew he was baiting him.
"I found that bite mark you left on her, she surprised me, I didn't see her as one to like pain, but to each their own. I think, tonight, I fulfilled her."
Amber lost her balance and stumbled against Philip for a second, causing him to take a step back against the half wall behind them, Daryl saw the mans upper thighs collide with the edge. He regained his balance and reseated the gun against her temple for a second before tightening the arm around her throat and pointing the gun at Daryl.
"You are starting to bore me." Philip said.
"Shame." Daryl responded, trying to buy time, to think of something, anything. Amber's head moved and Daryl looked from Philip to her face. She mouthed three words at him and his heart froze.
I love you
She was saying goodbye.
He suddenly realized what she was doing, that stumble on her one useable foot had been on purpose, to get Philip to the edge. Before Daryl could move, as his mouth moved to scream 'NO' at her Amber threw her weight back, hitting Philip in the chest with the back of her head, planting her foot below her and pushing back. He pulled the trigger and Daryl felt rather than heard the shot go wild just over his left shoulder. He started running but he was SO SLOW, EVERYTHING SEEMED SO FUCKING SLOW, everything except for the two on the edge of the roof. Philip teetered, fighting for his balance as his thighs collided with the concrete for the second time. For a millisecond Daryl thought he would stabilize but then he tipped back, his body dragging Amber back with him. Daryl was almost there, ALMOST FUCKING THERE when her foot picked up off the tar under it. Her hip hit the top of the wall and she rotated as she went over and he saw Philip's hands flailing, trying to find some purchase behind her. Then Daryl dove, arms straining outstretched as his boots skidded across the roof, his own lower body smacking against the wall. His left hand scrabbled for purchase on the ledge in front of him, for leverage, as his right reached for her arm, the one still wearing the handcuff as it waved in front of her chest as she fell back.
Then pressure, sweet blessed pressure as her arm filled his right hand and he gripped and pulled back. But something was wrong, she suddenly weighed too much, and Amber had never weighed hardly anything, he had picked her up one armed before, on the bike, off the stool at Jake's. But this jerked him nearly over the edge himself, his shoulders screaming with the strain. And then he looked down.
She had a snake around her ankle again.
Philip had somehow caught her good ankle on the way down, and now held on dangling. As Daryl looked down past them, he saw that on this side of the building there was a drop off, revealing a daylight basement. Instead of her feet swinging two stories above the concrete, a survivable drop, it was nearly four, which would surely kill her especially factoring in that she already had a head injury.
"NO!" he heard himself shriek, what else was there to say. No! HE REFUSED, for ONCE in his goddam life he wasn't going to watch something good slip through his fingers. He felt the concrete ledge in his left hand bite into the skin of his palm, and his boots threatened to lift off the sanded tar under them, to send them all three over. He braced his knees against the wall and looked down at Amber's face. Her eyes were half lidded, like she was already gone and that was WRONG, she should have been panicking, trying to kick the weight off her leg. Instead she just hung. Daryl could feel the tendons and muscles in his arms and shoulders try to separate as he fought with death itself in the dark of the wee hours of the morning.
...his branches run over the wall...
He had to think of something, he had SECONDS to do something before they all went over, had to get that monster off her leg. His arms were killing him, he could feel his shoulder trying to dislocate...
...and the arms of his hands were made strong by the hands of the Mighty God of Jacob.
Just like before, in her bed...
Shoot him.
Daryl would have to let go of the ledge for a second to grab the gun from behind his back. He braced his knees against the wall again and pulled back, trying to give himself some leeway before he let go with his left to go for the gun.
He had just released his fingers from the ledge when he heard the gunshot and felt warm blood spray his arm. And then he was being pulled back, the load on his arm instantly going from too heavy to way too light.
If you know my stories, then you know things are not always as they seem, so hang with me, okay? I promise, it's gonna be alright in the end!