EPISODE 30 – Home – Part II

I fought like a lion to get to Sive in time.

It feels like they were suddenly everywhere. Before we could even think or try to regroup. We never thought those bastards would gather walkers just to throw them in our yard. We all got surrounded before we managed to get safely behind the bars. Every security we had put in place became useless. And we felt terribly outnumbered.

I'm only a few metres away from my daughter, and yet it could as easily be miles. She's waving her knife desperately, with her back against the wall, but she's so small. So vulnerable. Her piercing blue eyes are widened in panic; she's calling me pleadingly. I'm killing walker after walker, though I can't get to her. It feels like a nightmare.

Now, one has seized her chubby little arm. Its teeth are getting closer. I roar in agony, slashing skulls frantically. Though, before the walker's jaw can close, Connor grabs her in his arms, yanking her away. I get a second of respite, before I witness the teeth closing on her fingers.

She screams.

Connor fights as savagely as he can, carrying her with one arm. I finally get to them. No. It can't be. She can't be bitten. But thanks to him, only the tip of her last two fingers got maimed. They're bleeding profusely. I must act fast.

"Keep them away!"

I seat her against the wall, turning my back to the carnage. I trust that Connor will protect us; I never doubted he can. Even with just a crowbar, he'll never let any of them reach us. So, I can take my knife, clasp my daughter's hand, maintain it forcefully on the ground, and slice the rest of the fingers off her hand. She shrieks and struggles to get away, but I have to keep her there. Now I tear off my shirt to try and stop her bleeding. She wails again as I press on her wound. Though I can now turn to see if Connor is alright.

There are a few walkers left, and he's fallen on his back under one of them, its weight preventing him from moving. It clacks its teeth barely an inch from his Virgin Mary throat tattoo. In only a second, it'll tear through flesh. A cold dread runs through me as I realise I won't get to him in time.

Then an arrow pierces this one's skull.

Suddenly, Daryl is there to pull Connor back on his feet. They finish the last few walkers together, before Connor runs back to us. I managed to stop Sive's bleeding, though she's still bawling in pain. We need Hershel. I carry her in my arms, running to the cell block, where I lay her down and he can finally give her some analgesics. Connor sits with her and cradles her until she falls unconscious. I'm trembling like a leaf, from the adrenaline, the fear, the horror.

"She alright?"

Daryl's voice startles me, and I spin on my heels.

"Where were ye?" He's confounded by my harsh tone, and I realise I'm furious. "Where the fuck were ye Daryl?" I can't help shouting.

I know this is not his fault, but I can't refrain from thinking: if he'd been here, this would not have happened. So, when he takes a step closer, I punch him in the chest. He's way more staggered by my anger than by the blows.

"Ye weren't there to protect her! She trusted ye and ye abandoned her!" I hear myself crying.

Of course I'm not being fair. But I can't stop myself, and I see in his eyes how much my words hurt. My breaking voice keeps yelling: "Where were ye?"

"That's enough." It's Connor that stops me from hitting him again. He seizes my wrist and wraps me in his arms, holding me tight from behind to keep me from scratching like a wild animal. And he whispers in my ear to calm me down:

"It's okay, Tine. She's going to be okay. She's asleep. Ye did good, love. Ye saved her. She's okay."

"Ye don't know! She could turn…" I choke.

"She won't. Ye were so fast, love. I'm sure she won't."

My knees buckle under me, and Connor slowly accompanies me to the ground. I'm weeping and shaking from the shock of it all. Daryl remains stunned, unable to say a word. I actually can't believe he's back.

"Damn those Irish people are batshit crazy…"

I raise my head, ready to blow up in this newcomer's face. When I realise it must be the infamous brother, Merle. He lays his elbow on Daryl's shoulder, and Daryl chews his lips to keep quiet.

"Since when are there so many paddies in Georgia anyway? It's a fuckin' takeover or what?"

It takes us a minute before Connor and I glance at each other and promptly turn back to Merle.

"Wait. We're not the first Irish ye've seen here?" we ask.

"Shit. Ya his brother, ain't ya? Ya got the same fuckin' tattoos!"