So... um...
this chapter is long... like... really long.
I really have no way to explain myself...
I apologize if this chapter is shittier than others, I only edited it with Grammarly and google docs because there is no way in hell that I am going through this and editing this monster any other way. I usually rewrite it and deal with errors that way... but yeah no way.
This chapter is like 14,000 words long, I am not rewriting this.
Also, I have a question for you all. I've been thinking and I was wondering whether I should split this story into parts. Originally I was planning on having A Long Way Home be one story that goes from season 9 to 11. But now I've been wondering if I should split it into parts with this being the first one, season 10 being the second one, and season 11 being the last one. Please tell me what you think.
And before this chapter actually starts, I just want to tell you that this chapter includes torture, a shit ton of fighting, and mentions of rape. If you haven't noticed before, you will see that I have upped the rating to Mature because this chapter definitely warrants it. I understand that some of you may not like that kind of thing, so I will put warnings on the part where it comes and a summary of it when the scene ends.
If you have any questions, please put them into the comments and I will answer them the best that I can.
"Where the hell is she?"
Carl, from where he sat in the dirt tending to another pack member's wounds, flinched at the raw anger radiating from Alpha's voice. A couple of others near him did the same, ducking their heads and trying to seem as small as possible, none of them wanting to attract the angry woman's attention onto them. Alpha rarely ever spoke using a loud voice - she always talked in such a quiet tone, which usually scared Carl so much more than when people yelled - but when Alpha got angry enough to yell... well, that meant shit was about to hit the fan.
Alpha was pissed.
Carl swallowed nervously, finishing up with wrapping a makeshift gauze around a large cut on a pack member's arm and nervously tugging at the bottom of his mask - which he had put back on as he neared the camp. He had managed to sneak back into their walker-filled-camp right as the chaos was coming to an end. And while he had done it without anyone noticing him, his heart continued to roar like thunder in his chest, the adrenaline and disbelief from what he did mere hours before still coursing through him.
He had betrayed Alpha.
No one did something like that and managed to get away with their life. And Carl had always been loyal to her - never had he questioned her decisions, never had he disobeyed her, Carl did what was asked of him no matter how much he may or may not like it. Maybe it was because he had been too scared to even think about betraying her before, but now... What changed? What made him turn his back without even thinking about it on the one who he had been blindly loyal to for so long?
Carl didn't know why he was asking himself this - he already knew.
The atmosphere in the camp was tense and silent, and no one seemed to want to break that silence anytime soon, not that he could blame them - but Alpha wasn't going to take that silence for an answer. She glared around, her eyes landing on Carl. He felt his heart freeze as she stormed right up to him, grabbing him by the arm in a bone-breaking grip and yanking him up to his feet. Carl stumbled as she shoved him into the middle of the clearing, putting hundreds of eyes onto him, but he managed to keep on his feet despite that.
"Delta, you had the younger boy with you. Where is he now?!" Carl inhaled sharply at the question, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he looked over at Alpha. He met her gaze through the mask, not letting an ounce of fear seep show in them. Carl knew better than to cower in a moment like this one; if he showed even the slightest hint of fear or disloyalty, Alpha wouldn't hesitate in killing him. She hated all signs of weakness - especially in her own pack.
"I put him down a few minutes before the guardians got into camp," Carl explained in a quiet voice, willing himself to keep the pounding in his heart to a minimum. "My guess is that either he ran off, the guardians got him, or the older boy took him and ran while everyone was distracted." He scrambled through his racing thoughts, trying desperately to come up with a convincing lie. God, he couldn't believe he was actually doing this. Lying to Alpha! "I lost sight of Lydia during the attack. I don't know where she went."
"Is that so?" Alpha took a step forward, putting her hands behind her back as she began walking in circles around him. Carl swallowed heavily, nodding jerkily and tensing up as Alpha walked into his blind side. "You saw nothing else?"
"No, I didn't see anything else," Carl said, "although I do have an idea of where Lydia might have gone." There was a brief pause, and Alpha appeared back in his sight, staring up at him through narrowed eyes. "She liked the boy, Alpha. The blond one. I told her to forget him - that he was weak - but I don't think she listened." Carl sent a mental apology to Lydia and Henry as he spoke, knowing he was only putting Alpha's attention onto them, but Carl had to do this if he wanted Alpha to believe him. "I believe she might have used the guardians to her advantage and left with the boy while everyone was distracted."
Alpha remained silent for a few long moments, staring at Carl before turning to look over at Beta, who had approached the two of them sometime during the last few minutes. There was blood dripping from the man's hands, Carl noticed fleetingly, but pretty much everyone had blood somewhere on them at this point - either belonging to the walker's or themself.
"Beta?" Alpha peered up at the giant of a man, who tilted his head, thinking for a couple of seconds before starting to speak.
"I believe that Delta might be right," Beta said slowly, crossing his arms over his chest, "Lydia had never liked our ways. I wouldn't be too surprised if she decided to leave, and you saw how she reacted upon being told to kill the boy - she was crying." He practically spat the last word out, disgust coating his tone, "Lydia cares about that boy, Alpha. She left the pack for him. She betrayed us."
Alpha remained deathly quiet for another few moments. Then, she turned back to look at Carl, eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down. "I am disappointed in you, Delta," she says slowly, and for a second, Carl's heart seems to freeze in his chest, "your failure to keep an eye on my daughter and our prisoners will not go unpunished. Remove your mask."
Inwardly, Carl found himself cringing at her orders - he had been hoping to avoid something like this. Even though he knew perfectly well that Alpha hadn't ordered anyone, including him, to watch Lydia, Henry, or Hershel, he knew better than to protest. So, despite his reluctance, Carl did as asked. Slowly lifting the walker mask from his head and letting his hair fall down into his face. After a moment, Carl tilted his head, brushing a long strand of hair away from his eye and tucking it behind his ear. He forced his gaze to return back over to Alpha, willing his face to remain in a neutral expression as to not betray even a hint of what he was currently feeling.
Alpha stared at him for a few tense seconds before leaning down, fingers skimming the leafy ground before picking a long stick up from the dirt. Carl took in a deep breath, slowly rolling the sleeve of his right arm and holding it out to Alpha, and briefly, his gaze skimmed over the countless lash marks that he had received over the years, and he watched as Alpha straightened back up, preparing to add even more scars to the collection. Carl braced himself as she held up the stick.
WHAP!
She brought the stick down harshly, carefully watching Carl's expression for any signs of emotion as a bright red mark appeared on the pale skin of his arm, immediately starting to ooze with blood. Knowing better than to cry out, Carl simply ground his teeth together, jaw clenching as he used every ounce of willpower he had to keep his face completely blank - perfectly aware of the countless eyes now watching him.
Satisfied with his lack of response, Alpha brought the stick down again.
WHAP!
Another red mark. It started to bleed, and it stung, but Carl forced himself not to react.
WHAP!
More blood slowly started trickling down from his arm, dripping into the leaves below.
WHAP!
Carl couldn't hold back a small flinch at this one, but the expression on his face remained entirely blank.
Alpha smiled.
WHAP!
Alpha let her hand fall back down to her side, the stick dropping out of her grasp. She stepped forward, gently taking Carl's arm in her hands. She peered down at the newly made marks, each of them oozing with blood, before nodding to herself and looking back up at him. "You have always been loyal," she said after a moment, "don't let Lydia's disappearance ever stop you from being that." She rolled his sleeves back over the four new scars on his arm, reaching out and patting him on the cheek before turning away to face the rest of the pack.
Her eyes drifted over each of them, and she started to move, slowly circling the area: "my daughter is not going to be getting away with this. She is going to come back to us, whether she wants to or not." Immediately, low muttering started around the camp, all of them curious about what Alpha meant. A feeling of dread formed in the pit of Carl's stomach, and he backed up, pulling his mask back over his head as Alpha turned to Beta, crossing her arms. "Beta, I want you and a few others to track Lydia. Bring her back to me and kill anyone else who may be with her."
Carl felt his stomach drop.
Oh shit.
The pack fell dead silent at her words, and one brave (or stupid) soul decided to call out: "isn't that against the rules?" A few murmurs of agreement sounded at the voice's words, all of them thinking along the exact same lines as the first. Alpha turned her head in the direction of the chatter, tilting her head and lifting a brow.
The murmurs immediately fell silent.
Alpha huffed, circling around slowly. "You think I don't realize that it is against the rules? I made them if any of you happened to forget." She pointed to herself, glaring around at the pack as if waiting for someone who might be stupid enough to protest to her words. No one did. "But Lydia is going to pay the price for what she has done." Carl felt his throat close up at these words, suddenly realizing just how much danger Lydia and the rest were now in.
Alpha turned back to Beta. "You have a trail, correct?"
"We do," Beta confirmed, straightening up upon being addressed by Alpha, who nodded, a satisfied look crossing her face.
"Good," Alpha looked around, taking in the pack now huddled around her. She gestured to three of them: "Sigma, Alan, Dan - I want you all to go with him. Beta can choose the rest. You all leave in the morning." The three who she had pointed at stood up upon being addressed. And Carl found himself taking a step forward, heart racing.
"Alpha, wouldn't it be smart if I were to go with them, too?" Alpha paused, turning to look at him. She was quiet, staring at him before giving him a once-over. She appeared to think about it for a couple of moments before slowly shaking her head.
"While you are one of our best trackers, I believe it would be better for you to stay here," she said, and Carl nodded, dipping his head and taking a step back - knowing better than to object. Alpha then took yet another look around. "Everyone else, get rid of our dead. If they have changed, add them to the herd. Dismissed."
And with that, she stalked off to who knows where. Carl watched as the pack began to bustle around, his heart heavy as he absently rubbed at the still stinging cuts on his arm. You better know what you're doing, Daryl, he found himself thinking as his gaze swept over the now quiet camp, because things just got a whole lot harder.
WARNING! WARNING: TORTURE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT MENTIONS LIE AHEAD. If you do not wish to read this, and I won't blame you if you do, I will put a summary at the end of the scene telling you what happened. And for those who are reading this scene... I'm sorry...
Carl dragged yet another walker into the gradually growing pile of dead bodies nearing the edge of camp before turning back around and grabbing another nearby corpse to put into the heap. Usually, they would leave their dead for the walkers to eat, but they would probably end up dumping these ones into a ditch or something. They weren't fresh enough to catch the walker's attention, so they would have to dispose of them some other way. Carl hoped it didn't require dragging the corpses around some more because some of these walkers were pretty damn heavy.
Two other Whisperers were currently helping him with this specific pile. One of them was a newer member while the other one Carl recognized from around camp - an older (and larger) man named David who had been around for quite some time, having become a Whisperer a few weeks before Carl had, though he had no clue if that was his actual name or not. Not that he really cared. As long as they followed orders and didn't do anything stupid, they could call themselves whatever the hell they pleased.
But David didn't seem to have that same mindset - the older man kept giving Carl these dark glares through his mask every few seconds. Something that David did quite often whenever Carl was around. According to Lydia, David really hated Carl for being in such a high position of power despite the fact that he was 'older' and 'wiser' than Carl was. Apparently, in David's eyes, because Carl had been only a kid when he had taken the title of Delta, that, for some reason, made him less worthy of it.
Yeah, Carl didn't really understand the logic of it all. Alpha only let those who she deemed worthy become Gamma, Delta, or some other position of power, that and he had been around seventeen-ish when he became Delta - could that really be counted as a kid? Either way, it was always kind of entertaining to see the way David seethed whenever Carl gave him an order.
Oh, sue him. He didn't get a lot of entertainment around here.
It had been at least an hour or two since Beta and his group had gone off to go and track down Lydia, and while Carl's stomach turned into a messy pile of nerves every time he thought about it, he found that he couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew that Daryl was a smart man and would do anything he could to keep everyone safe, but Beta was persistent, cunning, calculating, and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted - he showed no mercy. Carl didn't know what Daryl and Glenn were like anymore, and he had no idea if they would be able to fight Beta and his group off.
So he tried his best not to think about it.
He hauled another dead body into the pile, stepping back as the other two did the same. Carl glanced around, taking in the area around them. There weren't many bodies around anymore. Most of them had been gathered up with only a few exceptions. A lot of the pack were now waiting around for orders from Alpha on where to put them. Carl looked back at the pile he and the other two Whisperers had gathered, nodding to himself.
"I'll go find Alpha, see where she wants us to put these," he mused, not really addressing anyone in particular. He saw a few nearby Whisperers nod, so he turned, prepared to go off and find Alpha when Carl heard David hiss something under his breath.
"You know, I can't believe that Alpha actually let you remain as Delta." Carl stopped in his tracks at the words, looking back to stare at David, who was now staring at Carl with thinly veiled hatred and glee in his eyes. The man took a step forward, and Carl turned his body around to face him, crossing his arms and raising a brow.
"I'm sorry, you didn't actually just say what I think you did, right?" Carl said slowly, keeping his voice quiet. He could feel the eyes of the Whisperers around them on both him and David, but he ignored it in favor of continuing on. "Because I could have sworn you just said I wasn't worthy of being Delta, that you believe Alpha is wrong. But I must be hearing things wrong because surely your not stupid enough to say something like that and expect to live. Or are you?"
The man bristled, dark eyes flashing dangerously beneath his mask, "you know perfectly well what I am saying." When Carl didn't respond to this, the man let out a huff of laughter. "In fact, I mean exactly that. I do not believe you are worthy of being Delta, and I believe Alpha is wrong in letting you keep the title. She should have just left you behind."
Carl raised a brow, appearing nonchalant though his fingers started inching toward the hunting knife attached to his belt, his muscles tensing up as he prepared for an attack. "Oh? Is that so?" He inquired after a moment. Carl had a pretty damn good idea about where the fucker was going with this, but he wanted to wait and see what David might say next.
And, as expected, the man only plowed on, stalking close to Carl, who remained in place; his expression not changing. "Ever since you first showed up, you've been causing problem after problem. You are young, stupid, and naïve. You are not worthy of being Delta," the man's words only grew angrier by the second, and he straightened up to his full height in what was, without a doubt, an attempt to intimidate Carl into submission - but honestly, the chances of that happening were entirely nonexistent. "I am older, wiser, and I know how this world works better than you do. I have been a Whisperer longer than you have, and yet Alpha still chose you instead of me to be Delta."
Carl tilted his head back, a bark of laughter escaping his lips - startling the crowd of Whisperers that had gradually started forming around them if the way a few of them jumped said anything about it. "And yet you are only saying this now instead of six years ago. It's almost like you're afraid of me or somethin."
David visibly recoiled back in shock, further proving Carl's words, and Carl doesn't bother stifling the maniac-like grin that spreads over his face. Still, the older man didn't seem to want to stop anytime soon. "That's because I believed you wouldn't last a day among us, especially as Delta," he growled, stepping closer to Carl and getting into his space - Carl still refused to budge. "I thought you would be taken down by someone so much stronger than you or get eaten by the guardians. But you never did." The loathing oozed out of the man in waves, his words growing more bitter and more angry by the second. "You know, I should have done something so much sooner. I was going to, actually, but then you got captured, and I realized I didn't even need to. But then, Alpha brought you back."
"And what are you planning on doing about this?" Carl asked quietly, letting a hint of humor seep into his tone - the question was rhetorical, obviously. Carl knew perfectly well what was about to happen. And after all the shit that's happened in the past few days, the more insane and bloodthirsty part of Carl found himself looking forward to it.
"I'm planning on doing what I should have done the moment Beta brought you to us. I am going to take my rightful place as Delta." Giving the man a quick onceover, Carl could immediately pinpoint a few weaknesses in his stance. He lazily pulled his knife out from its holster, letting the sound of the blade against its sheath bounce around the trees. He grinned at the look of uncertainty this caused in David. This fight would be an easy one.
"You... you really think you can be Delta?" Carl leaned back onto the balls of his feet, a low chuckle bubbling at his lips as he took a step backward, slowly beginning to circle the man, twirling his knife around in his fingers as a way of intimidation. "Oh, please, you wouldn't be able to handle the responsibility that being Delta brings."
The man's body shook with rage, and Carl knew the words that were about to leave his mouth long before he said them. "I know that you can't. So I challenge you."
Fucking finally, this guy had seriously been taking forever to get to the point. "Challenge me?" Carl snorted, pulling to a stop as the man got into a fighting stance. "Oh, how adorable! You actually think you'll be able to beat me? That you will actually be able to become the new Delta? Fine then," Carl took a step forward, smirking from underneath his mask as David immediately went as stiff as a board, freezing for a moment before reaching for his own knife. "Attack me. Show me what you got. But know I will not hesitate in killing you."
Carl raised his knife up, getting into a fight stance of his own. Looking at David now, it wasn't all that hard to pinpoint the weak areas in the way that the man held himself in. David was a large man, much taller than Carl but nowhere near Beta's height, but it was easy to tell that this man relied more on strength than he did anything else. Carl wouldn't be able to physically overpower him. He would have to resort to speed and quick thinking instead. Carl didn't really get to notice anything else because then, David let out a shout of anger, his gaze turning straight up murderous as he started forward, charging right at Carl, knife raised and prepared to strike.
Carl jumped out of the way of his attack instantly, ducking under David's swinging arms and managing to make a cut in the large man's side - it's a small one, not meant to seriously injure anyone, but Carl didn't want to kill him just yet, he wanted to have some fun first. He danced away just as David spun around, swinging his own knife at the area where Carl's head had been moments before. Carl grinned gleefully, and with a swift, sudden movement, Carl darted back over at David, slashing viciously at the man's right arm before leaping out of the way as David swung his knife over at Carl once more, missing him by mere inches.
"Come on, big guy, that all you got?" Carl taunted, circling around the man as adrenaline pumped through his system. "I've fought walkers stronger than this." David snarled - like, actually snarled - before rushing over at Carl, lifting his knife. The sound caught Carl off guard for a second, which gave David enough time to slash at his face. Carl jumped out of the way before the man could do anything else, grunting in pain as blood started to trickle from his face. He lifted up a hand, feeling the new cut that David had made on Carl's nose - having somehow gotten through his mask. The wound stung, and Carl sighed. That's probably gonna leave a mark.
"Dude, seriously? It's almost like you're not even trying," Carl drawled, dodging out of the way of yet another one of David's attacks. Carl leaped forward before David could turn around, plunging his knife into the man's arm and kicking him in the side as hard as he could. The older man swore, crying out in pain as Carl ripped the knife out. He fell to his knees, hand moving to the stab wound, and, not about to give the man a chance to get up, Carl stepped behind him, grabbing the injured arm now oozing with blood and twisting it behind David's back in a move that he had seen Beta use various times over the past few years.
David cried out again, and Carl grinned from under his mask when he heard a faint popping noise that told Carl he had managed to dislocate the man's arm. Carl grabbed his other arm, quickly twisting it around just as he had with the other one and using his grip to smash David's torso onto the ground, quickly digging his knees into David's back to help hold him down. The man cried out in pain, beginning to struggle against Carl's weight. Despite being so much larger than Carl, David is unable to get the younger man to budge. Carl, almost lazily, pressed his fingers into the stab wound, digging his nails in as deep as possible as David's struggling grew more and more frantic. Carl clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, the grin not leaving his face as he took a firm hold on the man's hair with his other hand and yanked his head up, forcing David to look at him.
"Honestly, this is just sad," Carl said, his voice dripping with faux-disappointment, "I expected better, man. I really did. You could have at least made this a little more fun for me."
"You-" Carl dug his fingers a little deeper into the stab wound as David began to speak, "-you won't be able to protect her forever, you know." Confused, Carl stared down at David, the grin disappearing from his face when he took in the almost gleeful smile on David's face from beneath the mask. Still, his grip on David doesn't loosen. If anything, it only tightens. "Lydia, you care for her. But Beta is going to bring her back, and that little bitch is going to get just what she deserves."
Carl felt his blood run cold, and any possible sympathy he may have once had for the man - which was very little - disappeared within seconds. David seemed to sense the confusion his words caused within Carl, for he let out a harsh bark of laughter, his expression turning to one of pure delight. "You know," the man said, his smile widening, "I hope Alpha lets a couple of us have our fun with her before she kills her. She's a pretty one - I bet she tastes like heaven."
The realization slammed into Carl like a hurricane.
Oh.
Oh, he did not just go there.
Carl stared down at David coldly, twirling his knife in between his fingers as a morbid idea came to mind. Carl reached out, tearing the mask right off of David's face, rolling the man onto his back, and driving his knee into the man's stomach in one quick movement. David wasn't smiling now as he took in the way Carl practically shook with anger. Carl leaned in slowly, pressing his knife to the man's cheek, whispering into his ear.
"You know, I was considering killing you quickly... but now?" Carl dug the knife in a little deeper. "I think I've reconsidered."
With a nasty grin on his face, Carl took one of the man's hands, pinning it down above the man's head. With one broad swing, he slammed his knife into the man's palm, sending it right through into the other side. The large blade slid in easily, with only a little bit more resistance than if Carl were killing yet another walker. He pushed it in deeper and deeper, ignoring David's flailing as he used the knife to pin David's hand to the ground, stopping him from trying to push Carl off. Carl can feel the man making a grab at him with his other hand, but his movements are frantic and weak, and Carl put a stop to it quickly, grabbing the man's other hand and unsheathing another knife from his belt, quickly doing the same thing.
David let out a scream, his struggling intensifying as blood oozes out from his hands. There was no more smugness or anger on David's face, only panic, pain, and fear - this only caused Carl's grin to turn even broader, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he motioned for a nearby Whisperer to hand him their knife. They oblige, knowing better than not to, and Carl brandished the large hunting knife he had been given in front of David's face, relishing in the look of terror that it brought. He looked up at Carl, pleading with him to change his mind, but Carl didn't even hear him.
"There are many things you could say or do about me that I wouldn't give a damn about," Carl said slowly in a quiet voice so only David could hear, staring down at the man with a narrowed eye, "you could insult me, hurt me, torture me, and I wouldn't give a fuck. But Lydia? You don't talk about her. You don't even LOOK at her. I don't care if she isn't one of us anymore - you don't lay a single fucking hand on her. You remember what I did to the last men who tried that, don't you?" Judging by the fearful expression that crossed over David's face, he remembered pretty well what had happened.
"Please... I didn't mean it. I promise I won't try anything like this again... please! I'm sorry!" The words pour out from the man repeatedly like a broken record, his pleading falling on deaf ears. Carl glanced up briefly, and he met the eyes of Alpha, who had, at some point, made her way over during the fight. Knowing perfectly well that she wasn't about to interrupt, Carl leaned in, murmuring into the man's ear as he twirled the knife around in his hand and pressing the edge of the blade along the flesh surrounding the man's eyesocket.
"Your apology is not accepted."
A second later, Carl dug the blade forward, deep into David's eye.
The man let out a blood-curdling scream, but this only urged Carl on. He felt the blood splatter onto his face, and even then, he didn't stop. He just dug in deeper and deeper, relishing in the pained screams he drew out from the man squirming beneath him. He had no doubt that there was now a psychotic grin on Carl's face right now, but he found that he didn't even give a damn.
The crowd surrounding the two remain silent, watching on with blank stares as Carl dug the knife deeper into David's eye. The man was struggling and screaming and flailing around helplessly, but this only made Carl go in deeper, knowing that with the knives pinning the man in place, David was totally unable to do a damn thing. Still, it took Carl a little longer than he'd like to get the eyeball out, and he'd been digging around for around five to ten seconds before the eye finally popped out, rolling onto the dirt beside the man's face with a disgusting squelch.
"Well, aren't you putting up quite a show," Carl remarked with a false cheerfulness in his tone, peering down at David with a predatory grin covering his face, "just so you know, buddy, we aren't even halfway done yet." He made sure to say this last part louder so the rest of the crowd could hear, wanting them to see just what would happen if another one of them dared to challenge him.
As soon as he said these final words, Carl lifted the knife he held back up before bringing it down again and plunging it right into the man's remaining eye without an ounce of sympathy.
Another scream escaped from the man. David's struggling was much weaker now - probably from the bloodloss - which made it much easier to get the second eye popping out. It rolled out as well, and Carl made a clicking noise, climbing up to his feet as he stared down at David expressionlessly. Then he walked around the man, kneeling down to where his right hand was pinned to the ground by his knife. Any nearby walkers were probably on their way at this very moment - it's a good thing that they're near the edge of the camp instead of right in the middle, or else Alpha would have made Carl kill the man by now.
Carl wrapped his fingers around the man's right wrist, slowly scraping his knife around the man's thumb, letting the blade sink in a little bit, but not enough to draw blood. The man's pleas grew more and more desperate, but Carl didn't pay them any attention. Simply staring down at the man's now bloody face before looking up, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.
"This," Carl began slowly, raising his voice a tad so everyone could hear him, "is what happens when one of you tries to challenge me."
Carl pressed his knife down.
David let out another blood-curdling scream.
The thumb fell to the ground, detached from the man's hand. Carl moved his knife to the next finger, bringing the blade down again before moving to the middle finger.
He brought the knife down again.
And again.
And again.
Carl leaned back, watching with disinterest as the blood seeped out of the man's fingers, or in the place where the fingers once were. Carl clambered up to his feet, giving the man a hard kick in the side before leaning down, ripping his knife out of the man's palm without a trace of gentleness. He quickly did the same with the other, stepping back right as the low snarling of walkers made themselves heard. A few of them emerge from the trees, and Carl turned his back to David, walking away as the man's pathetic whimpering turned back to screams as the dead descended onto him, teeth ripping into his flesh.
The crowd quickly started to disperse as the man's screaming quieted, all practically leaping out of Carl's way as he made his way back into the middle of camp. If Carl were a couple years younger, he knew perfectly well how horrified he would have been at what he had just done, but right now, Carl couldn't bring himself to muster up even the slightest hint of regret for the horrible fate that had been given to the man. Not after what he said about Lydia.
Carl spared a quick glance back, watching numbly as the walkers tore into their meal. With a faint smile, Carl turned away, heading in the direction of a nearby river to wash the blood off of him.
I win.
END OF MATURE SCENE: for those who didn't read, Carl got challenged by a whisperer and the guy made a sexual comment about Lydia. Carl goes a little berserk and cuts the guy's eyes out and cuts five of his fingers off. Walkers appear and Carl leaves the guy to be finished off by them.
Lydia and Henry don't waste a second after spotting the mini herd of guardians with Whisperers hiding inside - she grabbed his hand, pulling him back before Beta could notice any of them and rushing inside the building. They find Daryl, Glenn, and Connie boarding up the windows in a nearby room, Hershel now wide awake and humming cheerfully from where he sat on the floor, playing with two dusty figurines that had not been there before. Glenn or Daryl must have found them while looking around the place.
There's a thick tension hanging around when they rush inside the room - mostly between Daryl and Glenn. It's one that had definitely been there before, but not nearly as bad as it was now. Glenn kept glancing over at Daryl every few seconds, his face twisted into an expression of guilt and worry while the archer kept his back turned to his friend, perfectly content with ignoring him. Usually, Lydia would try to ask around to figure out what was going on, but she had more pressing things on her mind at the moment.
"Hi Lydia, Hi Henry!" Hershel called out cheerfully, waving at them. Henry gave the boy a half-hearted wave and a sheepish smile while Daryl and Glenn spun around almost immediately. Daryl took a step forward, gaze flitting between the two teens. He locked eyes with Lydia, his face hardening as he took in the expression on her face.
"They're here?" He asked, and Lydia gave a small nod, unsurprised he had figured it out so quickly. He reminded her of Delta a little bit. Always able to tell what was going on within a person's mind. Daryl swore, lifting up his crossbow from where he had rested it on the wall and striding out the door and onto the balcony. Lydia made a move to follow him, but Connie shot up to her feet within seconds, grabbing her arm and giving a little shake of her head.
Glenn scooped Hershel up into his arms, ignoring his son's yelp of protest as the two figurines he had been playing with dropped to the ground. "Are you sure that it's them?" He's looking to Henry as he said this, and the blond nodded, his lips thinning. Glenn let out a whoosh of air, turning back around to face Lydia and Connie. "We need to finish up on these fortifications. We may not be able to stop those fuckers from getting inside this building, but we can sure as hell make navigating it a lot harder than it should be."
"Swear," Hershel called out, frowning at his father, "Mom says we aren't supposed to swear."
Lydia found herself flinching back at the boy's words, remembering all too well what would happen whenever she had tried something like that. A brief lashing if she was lucky, but if not... then she would usually end up with a shit ton of bruises and maybe a broken bone or two. Surely Hershel knew that talking to adults like that would only hold similar results?
Her gaze slowly moved over to Glenn's face, half-expecting to see some kind of enraged look at his son's words - one like the one that her mom often got whenever Lydia used to make remarks like that - and was surprised to see the sheepish smile that spread over the man's face. Followed by a look of fondness and love.
Staring at the father and son, Lydia couldn't help but feel jealous.
"I'm an adult; I'm allowed to swear," Glenn responded after a second or two, hefting Hershel up in his arms slightly. He said something else, but Lydia's attention was pulled away when she felt a hand landing on her shoulder. Lydia turned her head, confused, and found herself looking over at Connie, who smiled at her comfortingly - as if sensing her inner turmoil - and patting Lydia's arm, her eyes warm and kind.
She forced herself to smile back at the woman despite the troubling thoughts whirling around in her head. Lydia tried her best to push them - especially the ones about her mother - back, turning around to help Henry move a nearby table. Delta always told her that she thought too much. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing, she remembered him saying, grinning down at her when she had asked, but sometimes it just causes a shit ton of unwarranted stress, and I don't know about you, but we already are stressed enough in this hellhole of a world.
She missed him.
A lot.
She wondered where he was now. If he was among the group that Beta had brought with him or not. A part of her hoped that he was - merely so she could see his face again. To see if he was okay or not. But another part of her was terrified of that being a possibility. She wasn't afraid of him - never was and never would be. Lydia knew that he would rather die than hurt her, but that was what was scaring her. She didn't want him to get hurt because of her.
She didn't want anyone to get hurt because of her.
Stepping back as Henry righted a table against one of the windows, Lydia reached up a hand, fingers tracing the rim of Delta's hat. She took in a deep breath, adjusting it slightly and crossing her arms. My dad gave it to me sometime during the beginning of all this - Lydia remembered him telling her that a couple years back. She also remembered the sad expression that had crossed over his face seconds later.
Is he dead too? That was what she had asked.
Delta had looked down at her, his face twisting into an unsure expression as he considered her question. Yeah... yeah, he is, he had said sadly before motioning to his hat - I guess that's why I keep this old thing. I don't have anything else left to remember him by. Sometimes... sometimes I can't even remember what his voice sounded like. She remembered hearing the way his voice cracked as he told her this, recalled seeing the heartbroken expression on his face. She remembered understanding and not understanding all at the same time.
Why am I even thinking about this? Lydia sighed - she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately - and turned her gaze over to Glenn, who was now helping Connie board up the windows some more. Hershel was sitting at his feet, a bored expression on his face. She couldn't help but envy the young boy - she couldn't remember ever being that carefree at his age or having her mom ever look down at her with such love, care, and adoration like Glenn did with Hershel.
Lydia's attention was pulled out of her churning thoughts when the door creaked open, and Daryl stepped inside. "All right," the archer said gruffly, closing the door behind him as his gaze swept over the small group, "they're here. Let's go." Daryl then turned, picking up a fallen plank of wood and tossing it over to Glenn, who caught it with a surprising amount of ease, sending a grin toward Daryl as he turned, getting to work on covering the windows.
Connie and Henry followed Glenn's example and started to board up the rest of the windows, using whatever supplies they could find in the dark room to get the job done. The room got darker and darker as they worked, and Lydia stood to the side, watching nervously and wondering if she should be doing the same as the other three. She looked up as Daryl turned on a flashlight, bathing the room in light. He looked around the room - his eyes narrowed as he took it all in.
Suddenly, Daryl directed the flashlight toward her face, a little bit downward and away from her eyes - to which she was thankful. "Hey," he said after a second, "you're with me."
What's that supposed to mean? Lydia pondered, but she didn't dare argue. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Henry turn his head slightly, obviously hearing Daryl's order, and before she knew what she was doing, Lydia strode forward, pulling Henry's head toward her and planting a kiss on the blond's cheek. She gave him a strained smile before turning back around and running after Daryl, who she noticed now had a very solemn looking Hershel in his arms.
He gave her a small nod when she moved toward him, turning around and heading toward the plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling a few feet away. He ducked under them, his dog trotting at his feet, and after a moment, Lydia followed the man, hugging her arms to her chest and frowning as the sheets pulled at her hair.
Daryl didn't take her and Hershel that far away. He seemed to know where he was going, though. He led Lydia over to the far side of the room where a large door stood. Putting Hershel down, Daryl pulled the door open, shining his light inside. When Lydia poked her head over his shoulder to look, she realized it was a closet. Lydia blinked stupidly, confusion bubbling up inside her.
Why would he bring me to a closet?
Daryl put his hand on Hershel's back, giving the little boy a gentle push. Hershel seemed to know what Daryl was asking of him, for he walked inside the closet before turning around and grinning up at the man, who gave Hershel a small smile of his own in return. Lydia felt the realization crash upon her immediately and turned her head to glare at Daryl, who seemed to sense her stare, making a quick motion at her to step inside.
"Go ahead. Get in," the archer ordered, stepping to the side so that Lydia could walk in.
Lydia crossed her arms and shook her head. "No, no way. You are not putting me in a closet for this."
"I am, actually," Daryl returned, his voice slightly snappish, "so c'mon, get in." He gestured toward the inside again, his movements jerkier than before. He was getting frustrated.
"I want to help," Lydia snapped.
"How you gonna help if you ain't gonna fight?" Daryl shot back, clearly not about to back down. "No, you'll just get in the way. Go," he gestured to the closet again, his voice growing louder, "get in!"
When Lydia didn't move, he sighed.
"Jesus Christ, you're just as stubborn as Carl is," Daryl muttered under his breath, and at the mention of Delta's real name, Lydia felt her eyes widen in surprise. How did Daryl know Delta's real name?
"How do you know his name?!" She demanded, stepping forward into his face. "Did he tell you!?" Lydia honestly couldn't see that being a possibility. Delta didn't just give his name out to strangers willingly. The only reason that Lydia knew what it was because she knew him before he gained the title of Delta, and even then, she didn't call him by it all that often.
"Can we have this conversation later?!" Daryl growled, looking on the verge of just throwing Lydia into the closet himself. "You're acting like a child. More so than the actual one," he nodded to Hershel, who was watching the interaction before him curiously, "now get inside the goddamn closet unless you want me to tell your friend how you got yourself killed."
Still glaring at Daryl, Lydia finally did as asked, reluctantly stepping inside the closet. Daryl actually looked relieved at this before glancing behind him. "Dog," Daryl called, gesturing for the German Shepherd to go inside as well. The animal sat down at Lydia's feet, and she stared in surprise as Hershel let out a delighted squeal, throwing his arms around the animal's neck and giggling as Dog turned and started licking the boy's face. Daryl watched on with amusement before clearing his throat, drawing Lydia's attention back over to him. "Anybody comes through this door, he'll take 'em down. If that happens, you take Hershel and run."
At the sound of his name, Hershel looked up at Daryl but was quickly distracted once again as Dog butted his head into his stomach playfully. Daryl sighed heavily, holding out the flashlight for Lydia as he finished speaking, and she took it without complaint. "Stay quiet - that means you, Hershel." The boy flushed red in the darkness but nodded. Satisfied with his response, Daryl started to close the door.
"Wait." Daryl stopped as Lydia called out. He stared at her questioningly, and Lydia forced herself to swallow down the lump in her throat. "Thank you." She didn't know what exactly she was thanking him for. For saving her and Henry from her mom, for bringing her along even if he didn't have to... She didn't know, but she knew that she had to thank him.
Daryl looked at her for a short few moments before shutting the door. She stepped away from the door, listening as the rattling of keys sounded from outside. She heard the lock click, and she sighed, her heart heavy. Lydia turned, pressing her back to the door and sliding to the ground, hugging her legs to her chest. Delta's hat nearly slipped off her head, but she caught it at the last moment, adjusting it slightly.
"Lydia?" Hershel whispered into the darkness after a minute or two, and she looked up, peering at the boy curiously. "Can... can I have the flashlight?" There was a hint of nervousness in his voice as he said this. "I don't like the dark..."
Not seeing any harm in doing so, Lydia agreed, reaching out and letting the boy take it from her hands. "Just don't flash it in my eyes." Hershel nodded, pressing his nose into Dog's fur and sighing quietly.
After a few more seconds of silence, Lydia found herself reaching up, pulling Delta's hat from her head, and staring down at it blankly, her thumb brushing over the old fabric. Slowly, Lydia hugged the hat to her chest before pressing her nose against the top of it and taking in the familiar smell of leather, forest, and faint cigarette smoke that Delta usually emitted. Even when the two of them reeked of death after walking among the guardians, there would always be that scent lingering on Delta's clothes. One that Lydia grew to love over the years.
She just hoped that today wouldn't be the last time she'd ever smell it.
The Whisperers almost always set up their camps near a water source of some kind - a river, lake, stream, it didn't matter as long as there was water - and this one wasn't any different. After asking one of the women in the pack - mostly because a good third of the men in this pack were dicks and Carl really didn't want to deal with any more shit right now - Carl quickly learned that the nearest river was around a mile away from the camp. Not that long of a walk, twenty minutes at most.
So Carl picked up his bag and decided to head over to the river to wash up. Not a bath (though he definitely needed one, he smelled like shit), but Carl would really like to wash all of this blood off of him before it dried and got all gross and itchy. Now that he thought about it should probably try and clean up his hair a bit too. But that could wait a little bit longer. Plus, it would only end up getting tangled again later, so cleaning it honestly held no use.
Carl crept through the trees for around fifteen or so minutes before he was finally able to hear the rushing water somewhere nearby. Heaving a faint sigh of relief, Carl forced himself to go a little faster, ducking under a low hanging branch and emerging into a small-ish clearing. There was a flowing river in the middle of it, and Carl approached it slowly, glancing around and checking for any signs of walkers or people around him. Finding none, Carl sat down on a nearby boulder at the river's edge, putting his bag in his lap and watching as the occasional fish swam by.
After a couple minutes of this, Carl reaches up, untying the mask from the back of his head, pulling it off slowly and taking in a deep breath as the breeze hit his face. Carl tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, tugging his gloves and jacket off and putting them into his bag, left in his pants and a baggy gray shirt. Blood covered his fingertips, but Carl found his gaze drifting down to the series of burns covering his left arm and then to the thin, white scar he had created. Carl always forgot how disgusting these scars made him feel whenever looking at them, and it only reminded him of why he kept them covered as much as possible.
Carl just wished he could do the same for the ones on his face. Or, more specifically, his eye.
Carl stared down at his reflection in the river, disgust churning inside him. Not even realizing what he was doing, Carl let one of his hands wander up to his head - brushing his hair aside - his fingers moving across the scar tissue under his eye, a pale red color that never failed to make people recoil at the sight of it. Even he couldn't stand looking at it for long.
Carl hated having his eye - or lack of one - visible to others and only really felt comfortable with it while his mask was on. But Alpha had forbidden him from covering it up with an eyepatch or bandages once it had healed enough to ensure there would be no infection, saying that covering it would be 'weak' of him. Her exact words had been something along the lines of him using his injury to intimidate others instead of hiding it, and while it did a damn good job at intimidating enemies, Carl still hated it.
The burn on his face didn't bother him nearly as much. Mainly because it wasn't really that big - a little smaller than the palm of Lydia's hand. Hell, none of his other scars bothered him as much as his eye did. Maybe except for the one he created - the smallest of them all, ironically. That one would always fill him with anger and shame no matter how much time had passed.
It seemed he only was adding more and more scars to his vast collection.
The lash marks on his arm barely even hurt at this point. They had stopped bleeding a while ago, so Carl didn't really look at them much. The one that David gave him was the one that caught his attention. The cut covering his face was long - going from the middle of his nose down the left side of his face to the area a few inches above his mouth. It stung, but it's not as deep as he first thought it would be, thankfully. Stitches wouldn't be needed, probably. It didn't even look bad enough to scar, but even if it did, Carl wouldn't really care - it's the least of his worries at this rate.
Carl dipped his hands into the water, hissing at the cool temperature, but relieved to see the blood already being washed off his hands. The rustling of leaves behind him quickly caught Carl's attention, and he froze, tensing up as his wet hand immediately darted over to his knife. Lifting his head, Carl glanced behind him, relaxing somewhat when he saw Alpha emerging from the treeline, no mask on her face. She stared at him for a few long moments, eyes blank as she looked him up and down. Her eyes landed on the bleeding cut on his nose, and she made a faint huffing noise.
"He cut you." The way she said it told him that it wasn't a question. So Carl nodded, gaze darting between the river and Alpha, wondering what his leader was even doing here. He didn't dare ask, though.
"He did." Carl glanced down at his gloves and then his wrist, reaching out and pulling them back on. "I should've moved out of the way faster."
"You should've," Alpha agreed, striding forward. Carl tensed up again as she neared, turning his head back toward the river, "but he paid the price in the end." The woman sat down next to him, and Carl, now more than a little confused, glanced up at her, eyebrows furrowing.
Slowly, Carl nodded. "He did." Carl watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering what exactly was going on. Alpha had seen him kill David, she knew that he won, and usually she didn't care beyond that. So what was Alpha even doing over here? Because Carl doubted that she was here for small talk.
"Let me see the cut, Delta." Even more confused but knowing better than to argue with Alpha, he obliged, tilting his head in her direction and flinching in surprise when she grabbed him by the chin to hold him in place, her fingers digging into his skin. Alpha lifted her other hand, and Carl bit back a grimace as she reached out, wiping the blood from his face and causing the wound to throb. She stared at it for a few long moments, face blank, before nodding slowly. "It won't need stitches. The knife barely touched you."
Carl nodded, having known this already. "I was going to clean it," he said quietly, "I don't want it getting infected."
She was silent for a few long moments before nodding. "Good. It would be a waste if you were to die of infection." Alpha let go of him, reaching into the pockets of her pants and pulling out an old-looking cloth - she then leaned down, dipping the fabric into the water and holding it there. Carl shifted uncertainly, glancing toward the forest behind him as Alpha did that. What the hell was going on here? He stared at her in confusion before quickly averting his gaze down to his lap as she turned around, holding the dripping cloth up as she grabbed his chin again.
"Hold still," she ordered as he flinched back. Carl did as asked, trying his best to hide his confusion. Was Alpha seriously going to clean the cut for him? It wasn't even that bad, and Carl could easily do it himself. Plus, this was horribly out of character for Alpha - she never helped when one of her people had an injury. Even when Carl had first gotten the burns on his face, shoulder, and arm a couple years back, it had been Lydia who had helped clean them. Alpha hadn't given a damn. She didn't even care whenever Lydia got injured - hell, she was the one hurting her half the time!
Carl let out a surprised hiss when Alpha pressed the cloth to his nose, starting to wipe away the blood oozing out. "I haven't gotten the chance to talk to you about the community you and Lydia were held at," she said after a moment or two, "I talked to her when we were going back to camp, but I believe she may have been lying to me." Carl felt the realization dawn upon him almost instantly. Alpha was only doing this so she could get information about Hilltop. That made so much more sense. He felt some of the tension seep out of his shoulders.
"I didn't see as much as Lydia did," Carl told her after a second, his mind whirling as he wondered how much information to give her. He settled on a half-truth - it would be easier than straight-up lying to Alpha. "They trusted her more, which is understandable, seeing as I nearly took a chunk out of their leader's hand-" Alpha huffed at this, looking somewhat amused. Carl took this as a sign to keep going "-they kept me in a separate room the first night before bringing me down to the cellar sometime after. They put a bag over my head, so I wasn't able to see anything."
Alpha tossed the now bloody cloth to the side, her eyes swiveling back toward him. "What did you learn about them in your time there? What kind of weapons do they have? Are there any other communities?" Alpha leaned forward onto her knees, her patience clearly starting to wear thin.
"They seem to prefer soundless weapons - like the man with the crossbow - but a couple of them definitely had guns," Carl told her, keeping his voice stable, "I overheard the boy - the blond one - say something about one other community. I don't know if there are any others." He sent an internal apology to Daryl as he said this, but Alpha would have found out about this other community eventually. She always did. So there was really no use in hiding it. "No matter how many there are, I can tell that these people are weak. They believed they were strong, but they aren't," Carl scratched at an itch on his arm, his voice getting louder and more confident with every word, "the people are lying to themselves, living their lives as if everything was how it used to be. But it isn't. They're wrong."
As Carl spoke, he found himself wondering just how much of his words were lies. He had sworn off of communities after what happened at the prison - they always ended in disaster - they made people weak and helpless and dependent on others. He remembered stumbling across a community a couple months after the prison and remembered just standing there outside it - listening to the chatter and laughter going on within the walls. Carl had considered going inside but ultimately chose not to, and that was a good thing too, for three days later, the community had been ravaged by raiders.
"And the boy?" Alpha inquired, and while it took Carl a moment, he was quickly able to discern which one she was talking about.
Carl forced himself to appear calm, shrugging his shoulders as he heaved a small sigh. "Lydia took a liking to him during the time that we were in that community. I don't know why. He's naive - stupid. The only reason that he came after us was because he was thinking with his dick. Not because he cared for Lydia."
Alpha looked both amused and curious at this. "And yet Lydia went with him willingly?"
"It seems like it. But I might be wrong," Carl watched as Alpha's eyes narrowed, and he hurriedly continued on, "Alpha, Lydia is a smart girl, and she managed to gain those people's trust in a matter of days. And I believe she might have gone with them because she knows that the boy is gonna insist on bringing her back to the community. Or maybe another one." Carl knew that this wasn't the case, but he needed to make sure Lydia would have a chance at living if she ended up being caught by Beta. But that required some heavy bullshitting on his part. "Right now, it might seem like she's left us, but we don't know that for sure. She might come back, and if she does, she could have more information about those people. Information that could help us."
Alpha stared at Carl for a few long moments, clearly considering his words. After around thirty seconds, a slow, unsettling smile formed on her face. She glanced back at the trees in the direction of the camp before looking back at Carl, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder.
You might be onto something, Delta. Thank you." In an almost unheard-of show of affection, Alpha leaned over, brushing her lips against his forehead. Carl felt his eye go wide, confusion and surprise flowing through him.
Did she just-
She just-
The fuck?
Climbing back up to her feet, Alpha brushed the dirt off of her pants, turning and starting to head back in the direction of the camp. When she reached the trees, she glanced over her shoulder to look at Delta, who stared at her wide-eyed, his thoughts going a mile a minute in his head.
"I suggest you don't take long out here." She said after a moment, and then she disappeared into the trees, leaving Carl in a state of befuddlement.
What the fuck just happened?
Daryl stood, crossbow raised, behind yet another pair of plastic curtains in the large building, a decent distance away from the double doors that the skin people would end up coming through. Glenn was stationed somewhere to the left, his gun out as he aimed it at the door, waiting for the enemies to burst inside so he could strike. Daryl's heart thundered loudly in his chest as he stood there waiting, a mix of tension and uncertainty hanging in the air.
He glanced over at Glenn, who gave him a small nod when he caught his eye. They had to put their earlier conversation behind them for the time being, or else they wouldn't be getting out of this building alive. They had to focus on fighting - and that was something Daryl had always been good at. Just fight and hope he would make it to the next morning.
Then, the door flew open with a bang.
It's time.
A gunshot rang out in the air at the same exact moment that Daryl fired his bow. Glenn's shot ended up hitting his target, and the body of one of the skin's hit the ground, but Daryl's bolt embedded itself into what appeared to be a table or a door that had been ripped from its hinges. Whatever it was, it was being carried by a mammoth of a man that Daryl could only assume was the Beta that Lydia had warned him of. The son of a bitch was huge.
Cursing under his breath, Daryl flipped a table to block himself from view before taking off to the right. A loud thud followed as Beta dropped his shield, running off after either him or Glenn. He hoped it wasn't Glenn. His friend may be a good fighter, but he was also a fucking twig. Especially compared to that Beta guy. Briefly, Daryl wondered if Carl knew Beta. If they were both high in command, then Daryl wouldn't be all that surprised if that was the case.
Daryl darted through the room as fast as he could manage, throwing his bow over onto his back as he ran between the countless white tarps that hung down from the ceiling. Daryl stopped in an area mostly surrounded by the sheets, tossing his bow down to the ground and lifting up a large fire axe that had been leaning on the wall. He turned back around, breath catching in his throat as one of the skin fuckers made their way over to where he was. He could hear their footsteps, and he could see their shadow against the tarp as they reached up, prepared to bring it down.
Hope you've said your prayers, asshole.
Sucking in a deep breath, Daryl swung the axe, burying it deep into the bastard's chest. Blood splattered onto the white tarp, and the bastard gurgled and screamed. Daryl let go of the axe, watching without a single shred of remorse as the fucker fell, taking the now blood-stained tarp with him. Not bothering to check whether he was alive or not - if he was, it would only be a matter of time before he bled out - Daryl pulled out his hunting knife, peeking his head around the corner as he raised the blade, preparing for another attack.
He hoped that Glenn was okay, wherever he was.
Lydia could hardly breathe.
It felt like a large snake had wrapped itself around her chest, making it harder and harder to breathe as it's grip grew tighter and tighter around her. The blood pounded like thunder in her ears, drowning out the sounds of fighting going on outside the closet. Her heart beat so fast that she was surprised it didn't burst out of her chest. Her hands shook, not stopping even as she dug her fingers into Dog's soft fur. Her eyes darted around the closet frantically - searching. But for what, she didn't know.
Dog had begun to growl, baring his teeth as a gunshot sounded somewhere nearby, followed by a series of crashes and thuds that caused Lydia to flinch back into the wall. Hershel had pressed himself into her side, his green eyes wide with terror as he stared at the locked door, cringing every time a loud noise rang out. In most cases, she would protest at the way that he clung to her, but at the moment, she found that she couldn't care less.
Lydia clutched Delta's hat to her chest, trying to draw some kind of comfort from it as she took in a series of ragged and shaky breaths that shook her small frame. Breathing became a challenge, and her knuckles had turned white from how tightly she was holding the hat. In and out... she told herself in an attempt to push away her panic, it's okay... you're okay... just breathe...
A loud bang sounded somewhere nearby, and she heard Hershel let out a low whimper, digging his fingers into Lydia's arm so hard that his nails dug into her skin. He clenched the flashlight in his other hand, so tightly that she was surprised he didn't break it. Breathing was getting harder. Really hard. As if she'd just run fifty miles without any kind of break.
Hershel sniffled, flinching back as someone shouted, and Lydia could only sit there, her chest growing tighter and tighter as bile rose up in her throat. She needed to stay calm. Beta wouldn't find her - Daryl would make sure of that. But he didn't know Beta - didn't understand just how dangerous the man could be. Lydia felt the terror rise higher in her chest at the thought of the giant of a man, knowing just what would happen to her if he ended up finding her.
Lydia put Delta's hat on her head, wishing that he was here with her. The air in the closet was dull and musty, with tension and terror hanging above her and Hershel like a noose, practically suffocating her.
Lydia couldn't stay here any longer. She just couldn't.
"What... what are you doing?!" Hershel asked as Lydia clambered up to her feet, snatching the flashlight right out of his hand as she moved. His voice was frantic - terrified and filled with confusion. He stared after her with a wide-eyed expression, getting up a second or two later as Lydia started going through the various containers scattered around the closet, directing the flashlight's beam inside and trying to find something that could help her out.
"I'm not staying in here," Lydia responded, her voice shaky. She pulled open a drawer, cursing under her breath and shutting it when she found nothing inside.
She watched as Hershel's eyes widened with a mix of confusion and horror. "But Daryl said we had to until the bad people are gone." Hershel stumbled forward, staring at Lydia as she opened what looked like an old cooler of some kind with nothing inside, "it's dangerous!"
Dog let out one particularly thunderous growl as if agreeing with Hershel, keeping his eyes pinned to the door as his teeth gleamed dangerously. "I know what he said, Hershel. But I can't... I don't..." Lydia shook her head, forcing herself to take in a deep breath as she leaned up onto her tippy toes to reach another dusty box. Nothing.
She checked another one - still nothing.
She checked one near her feet - once again, nothing.
Lydia felt herself losing hope - come on... there had to be something in here to help her get out of this godforsaken closet! Her eyes landed on an old, metal toolbox, and she rushed toward it, yanking it open and sighing in relief when she realized it wasn't empty. She reached inside, pulling out what could be a crowbar or some kind of building object. Whatever it may or may not be, it was just what she needed to get herself out of here.
"Stay in here. Don't come out unless someone you know comes to get you," Lydia ordered Hershel, giving him the flashlight back. She moved toward the door, taking a deep breath and wedging one end of the object into the crack in the door before pushing with all the strength she had. The door creaked from the strain, and Lydia urged herself to work harder. Just a little more...
"You're leaving me?!" Hershel cried out from behind her, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the look of utter terror that crossed his face.
Lydia shook her head, her heart giving a small squeeze. "If you go out there, you'll be in danger. You're safe in here. Just stay quiet until the bad people are all gone, okay?"
Hershel looked like he wanted to protest, but he nodded nonetheless. "Okay..."
Lydia felt the relief wash over her in a wave. She turned her attention back over to the door, her grip tightening around the handle of the object she was holding as she tried pushing on it harder. She could hear a fight going on somewhere nearby, and her heart jumped high into her throat when she heard a familiar voice cry out in pain.
Henry.
Gritting her teeth and using every last bit of strength she had in her, Lydia pushed even harder, crying out in surprise and relief when the door swung open with a crack. Not wasting a second, Lydia ran forward, closing the door behind her. Dog rushed ahead of them, snarling as he turned a corner. She heard someone cry out seconds later as Dog's snarling grew louder in volume.
After doing a quick glance around, Lydia turned back around to relock the closet door before running off in the direction Dog had gone. Adrenaline and fear flowed through her, spurring her on as she rounded the corner just in time to see Connie drive a knife into the back of one of her old pack members. Lydia tried not to recoil at the sight. Instead, she turned towards Henry, who she now realized was also in the room. The blond was leaning on some old filing cabinets and clutching at his leg. Blood seeped through his fingers, and as she took in his pained expression, she practically fell down to her knees beside him, her mind racing as she stared down at the wound. It was a stab wound. Not the worst thing in the world, but still dangerous.
"Lydia?" Henry breathed out, turning to stare at her with wide eyes. Relief tainted his voice, but then his gaze flickered over to the dead body of the Whisperer Connie had killed, and immediately he started to stammer out apologies. "Lydia, I'm sorry. I-I tried not to kill anyone, but I-I don't know - I think..."
Lydia cut him off with a shake of her head, simply relieved to see one of her friends still alive. Were they friends? "No, no, no. It's okay - it's okay. I'm so sorry." They were both breathing heavily, eyes flickering between each other and the dead body on the ground. Lydia felt her throat begin to close up as her hands began to tremble. "I hate this," she choked out, her voice strained. She hated this all so much.
She hated that she had to leave Delta behind. Hated that her mother was so insistent on keeping her with the pack. Hated that she was putting so many people here in danger. She hated it all so fucking much. She just wanted - Lydia didn't know what she wanted. But she knew that it wasn't this. It was never this.
Henry seemed to pick up on this, and he reached out, taking her hand and giving it a small yet comforting squeeze. "Yeah, yeah, me too."
They both looked up at the sound of footsteps, and Lydia tensed up as Connie kneeled down beside them, staring at Henry's leg with worried brown eyes. She shined the flashlight on the wound, observing it carefully. Henry trembled, squeezing Lydia's hand tighter, obviously in pain as he struggled to catch his breath. Connie pursed her lips, and Lydia didn't think she'd ever felt so helpless until this very moment. She knew pretty much nothing about medicine and healing. Delta was the one who usually healed her cuts and other injuries. He would probably have some idea on how to help Henry.
Not for the first time, Lydia found herself wishing that he were here.
Did that fucker just run through a wall?!
That was the first thought that went through Daryl's head as Beta came (more like crashed) into view. But he didn't get much time to ponder about it as the giant of a man charged forward, lifting Daryl up with a horrifying amount of ease and slamming him into a nearby wall. Daryl grunted as he crashed onto the floor, struggling to regain his bearings as Beta crouched down beside him, unsheathing a large knife in front of his face.
"The girl-" the large man growled, voice low and his eyes glittering dangerously from behind the mask "-where is she?"
Instead of responding, Daryl quickly darted to the side, fingers curling around a long plank of wood and climbing back up to his feet. He held it above his shoulders, glaring over at Beta, who now stood across from him, knife raised. After a second, Daryl swung the piece of wood with all his might, trying to get a hit, but Beta grabbed the plank before it could touch him before using it to pull Daryl toward him. Beta swung his knife at him, but Daryl ducked under it, feeling the air from the blade whoosh by his head.
Taking out his own two knives from his belt, Daryl got into a fighting position, staring at Beta through slitted eyes as he prepared for the next attack. Beta dropped the plank of wood, pulling out another large blade from his pocket as he too got into a fighting stance. The knives look similar to the ones Carl had on him; Daryl couldn't help but notice, but he pushed that thought away pretty quickly, eyeing the shining blades warily.
Daryl swung at Beta again, only for the man to dodge it and take his own swing at Daryl. Once again, Daryl ducked under it. Beta seemed to expect this, and he made another swing at Daryl, who blocked it with his own knife. Practically snarling now, Beta took swing after swing at Daryl, all of which he managed to dodge, retaliating with his own series of attacks. None of them managed to hit, and Beta shoved him back before giving Daryl a hard kick to the stomach.
All the air seemed to leave his lungs as Daryl fell to the ground, but he didn't waste a second in climbing back up. The moment he got to his feet, Daryl started toward Beta again, who responded by delivering another hard kick to Daryl's side, making him fall right onto his ass. He started scrambling backward, trying to put some distance between the two of them, but Beta strode forward before he made it very far, dragging Daryl up to his feet by the shirt and yanking him toward a saw blade that Daryl only just realized was there.
Shit.
Daryl's hands shot out as Beta shoved him toward the table, only just managing to keep his neck from being impaled. But barely. Beta was so much stronger than he first expected. Now he understood why Lydia had seemed so terrified of the man. Beta kept putting more pressure onto Daryl's head, trying to force him down onto the blade. Daryl fought back as much as he could, not wanting to give Beta the satisfaction, but he could steadily feel himself beginning to lose the battle.
Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, his mind immediately wandering to Beth. Of her soft blonde hair and kind blue eyes. He never deserved someone like her. Now he'll probably never get the chance to see her again. And Anne... a shudder ran down Daryl's spine, and he felt his heart leap into his throat.
He could feel the tip of the blade against his neck now. Beta leaned in, growling into Daryl's ear. "Where is she?"
"Find out for yourself, asshole!" Daryl didn't think he'd ever been so relieved to hear Glenn's voice in his life. Beta's head snapped in the direction of the other man's voice right as a heavy plank of wood came crashing down on his head. Of course Glenn chose a fucking piece of wood. But Daryl wasn't complaining.
Beta stumbled back, clutching his head as a series of curses escaped his lips. Glenn swung at the large man again, sending Beta crashing into a bunch of glass and nails. Daryl used this time to distance himself from the saw blade that had nearly ended his life moments before, shoving Glenn out of the way as Beta lunged forward. Beta snarled, punching Daryl right across the face before hauling him up by the vest and slamming him into another wall.
Daryl gritted his teeth, trying to push the large man away with little success. But in the corner of his eye, Daryl saw Glenn leap forward, preparing to come to Daryl's aid, only to be shoved back as Beta whirled around, throwing Daryl to the ground and kicking Glenn in the stomach. Glenn crashed onto the floor with a loud cry, and Beta gave him another hard kick before turning back around to face Daryl. He strode forward, attempting to stomp on him, but Daryl managed to roll away at the last second, pulling a switchblade from one of the pockets in his vest and spinning around to stab Beta in the chest.
Beta stumbled back with a hiss, but otherwise, the knife didn't seem to do much, for Beta was still able to backhand Daryl hard enough that his body went crashing through the drywall. Fucking hell, what is this guy even made out of?
He could hear Beta fighting to get his way through the drywall, and, thinking fast, Daryl crawled forward. He recognized this room - it was the one that Connie had shown him earlier. And if he's remembering things correctly... Daryl moved a piece of plywood to the side, relief rushing through him when it revealed a hole in the floor. Thank fuck for small miracles, he found himself thinking, crawling into the hole and pulling the plywood back over its opening.
Seconds later, he heard a crash, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps somewhere above him. Adrenaline pumping, Daryl slowly moving the piece of plywood from the opening and carefully poking his head out of his hiding spot right as Beta began to speak. "You and your people are nothing to me. Your world is already dead," the man growled, and Daryl watched as Beta started taking slow steps toward a tarp with a tear down its center. That's where he probably thought Daryl was hiding. Jokes on him, Daryl thought, slowly hefting himself out of the hole in the floor.
Beta had just about reached the tarp and was mumbling some more bullshit that he couldn't care less about. Daryl didn't have much time left, so he took in a deep breath, gritting his teeth before promptly starting to charge at Beta, who had finally seemed to realize where Daryl really was.
The large man turned around a little too late. Daryl slammed into him, and Beta, having not expected the attack, went with little resistance, falling through the tarp and down the elevator shaft. Daryl leaned forward just as he heard Beta crash to the bottom, spitting a wad of blood out of his mouth moments later out of spite. Daryl then turned around, wiping a hand across his forehead and pausing when he noticed Glenn standing in the doorway.
"You okay?" Daryl asked, taking a step forward and eyeing his friend with concern. Glenn had an arm wrapped around his stomach as he leaned on a wall, obviously struggling to stand on his own.
"I think that bastard broke a rib," Glenn said through gritted teeth, "what about you?"
"Just bruised," Daryl responded, striding forward. He made a motion for Glenn to lift his shirt, and, wincing, his friend obliged. Daryl peered at Glenn's ribcage with a frown. There was a bruise starting to form, and, looking closer, Daryl could see more forming on his side. He grimaced before straightening back up.
"Don't think he broke it..." Daryl said after a second or two, "but I'm no doctor. Can y'walk?"
"Kind of," Glenn took a step forward, hissing in pain and trembling slightly. Sighing, Daryl grabbed his friend by the arm, looping it around his shoulder.
"Come on, the sooner we get out of here, the better." Glenn grimaced but nodded as Daryl began to move, pausing to pick up his crossbow as they headed toward the stairs. As they made their way down, Daryl's mind wandered over to Carl.
Kid better know what he's doing, Daryl thought grimly. Carl was a smart kid, and Daryl knew that he had gotten smarter over the years, but if something happened to him because Daryl didn't bring him with them...
Forget Rick ever forgiving him - Daryl didn't think he'd ever forgive himself either.