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We stuck together as planned until we reached our separating point near the creek.
I broke off to go but didn't get twenty feet before Daryl called, "'Ey"
Halting, I turned to meet his gaze.
"...Be careful. I ain't gonna come save ur ass if ya get in trouble."
A broad smile spread across my face. I nodded, giving him a pointed 'you too' look as I started off again.
There are hardly any walkers in these woods. I think the bigger danger will be not getting lost ourselves. I'm not worried about Daryl, he's Mr. Tracking extraordinaire— I'm worried about me.
"Meet back 'ere before dark!" Daryl called and I waved my hand in acknowledgement. I don't know if he saw or not, but I'm gonna assume he did. Besides it's not like he expects me to answer; verbally at least.
You can bet your ass I'mma be back before dark. I'm confident I would not be able to find my way back in the dark. I would have to hole up for the night and there are not a lot of places to do that out here from what I can tell.
I'm not much of a tracker but in my opinion I've got an excellent memory and sense of direction. I can tell when things look out of place but to be honest, I mostly run off instinct in this regard.
Now that I think about it, it wouldn't be a bad idea to have Daryl teach me a thing or two about tracking. It would certainly come in handy right about now. Not to mention any future endeavors.
I highly doubt this will be the last time a skill such as that will be useful.
It's only been like an hour or so since we split up. It's a lot of time to myself and my thoughts; More than I realized.
I wandered past some tracks I recognized to be deer tracks. I might not be a tracker, but I'm versed enough to at least tell the difference between a human footprint and a hoof.
Under any other circumstance, I'd have followed them in the hopes of catching something that isn't squirrel(cue involuntary cringe, shiver combo) but I'm not here to hunt.
I can't risk firing my gun unless it's life or death anyway, and I doubt even I could get close enough to throw my knife at it. Unless I get ridiculously lucky.
Plus if I did that I'd risk losing my knives; I've only got two with me —and they're my favorites— it would idiotic to risk losing them for a deer I don't need.
Besides, how would I even get it back to the farm? I'm not exactly capable of lifting a deer, that's at least my size judging by that print, on my best day; let alone with cracked rib—
A moan stopped me dead in my tracks and my knife automatically raised.
My head was on a swivel, searching for the source. My feet firmly planted to the ground, tense and waiting to react.
Several seconds passed in eerie silence, without so much as a leaf rustling.
My eyes narrowed as I shifted once again. Maybe it wasn't a moan, but just sounded like one. Could've been an animal, or a breeze, or—
A twig snapped on the other side of the substantial tree beside me.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down my temple as I moved around it, careful not to step on so much as a crusty leaf. Not even my breathing made any noticeable sound.
Even though I expected it— I was prepared for it, I still jumped when a walker came at me the second I stepped around the tree.
It's much bigger than I expected— at least twice my size.
Backpedaling as fast as I could, trying avoid its grasp, I stumbled back around the massive tree and this time I was ready when it followed after me.
Sinking my knife into its skull was easy the second time around but it fell forwards, pushing me back as I pulled my knife out.
My boot caught on something and I barely had time to see the massive tree root behind me before the panicked tingle of falling blazed in my gut. Instead of hitting the ground like I expected, I kept falling. My stomach soared into my throat with the sensation, and my heart lept out of my chest when I hit water.
It was like landing on an icy pond. The water cold and the impact feeling like I'd fallen off a second story deck.
My knife slipped from my fingers sinking in the frigid murky water before I could grab it.
My lung stung with and I got back to the surface as fast as possible.
As soon as I was up with a flailing splash, the small and thick roots tangled around me like a net.
I jolted backwards, hitting my head when a half a skeletal face snapped its teeth right next to me, narrowly missing my nose.
Roots from the cavern walls wrapped around me, restricting my mobility further with every rapid breath and pounding heartbeat against the inside of my chest.
I pulled on my hand but it was snared so tightly I couldn't even reach my gun.
The walker was barely a foot opposite of me, tangled in the same roots.
It snapped at me furiously while I tried to reach my other knife.
I could almost feel the vibration of the bones as they clacked together in rapid succession all too close to my face.
The cloudy water lapped against my neck, trying to slosh it's way into my throat.
My toes scraped what felt like the bottom during my struggle.
The roots tangled around me like thousands of tiny hands, trying to pull me under and bury me alive.
Two simultaneous cracks and half a second was all the warning I got before the walker fell towards me.
I thrashed in the water, instinctively turning my head to the side.
I pressed my back as far as it would go into the crumbling mud behind me, momentarily believing this was it.
Nothing happened and reluctantly I looked out of the corner of my eye.
The loss of those few inches yielded nothing to the cannibalistic monstrosity. It's still too far to reach me but waaay too close for comfort.
It's rotting stench assaulted my senses a hundred times stronger than before.
My heart threatened to break my ribcage from the inside. The water around me was well on it's way to sending me into a full blown panic attack every time it clashed against my throat.
I knew I wasn't gonna reach my knife before that thing managed to pull its arms off and tear into me with sickening green & brown bone that would have once been considered teeth.
My frantic hands pounded around for anything that could possibly increase my chances of survival and not a moment later, my fingers curled around a decent sized root.
I gripped it so tightly my fingers felt numb and pulled with as much strength as I could, all while twisting and bending to weaken it until it finally snapped.
My heart leaped into my throat as I fell forward.
The walker snapped centimeters from my face, so close I could almost feel the scrape of it's slick slimy teeth on my cheek as I pulled myself back against the caving mud wall.
Psyching myself up with two —as steady as possible— breaths, I let myself dangerously close to the walker to pull at least one of my legs free.
Pulling with everything I had, both my legs ripped from the stringy roots; kicking what I can only assume was the walker's legs in the process.
Tucking my knees to my chest, I slammed my boots against the walker's collapsing chest.
Bones snapped from the impact. The jagged edges piercing through what skin was left on it, as it crushed against the mud wall.
The roots behind me dug into my back. Determined to punch through my jacket, into my skin.
I pulled my arm towards me, finally ripping it free of the roots and my fist —along with the root in my hand— collided into the side of my head.
Pain exploded in my temple, stinging like a swarm of angry wasps while my vision swam. As soon as my sight was clear enough to find the target, I stabbed the root through the walker's eye-socket.
It's eyeball squished, congealed blood bursting forth and splattering over my hand, clear up my sleeve to my shoulder.
It's teeth continued snapping and I broke the stick off, stabbing the remaining end as deep as it would go through the other eye.
It still wasn't enough.
Wrapping my hands around the roots in one last desperate attempt, I lifted both my legs all the way up until my knees almost touched my shoulders and smashed my heels against it's eyes.
A portion of the skull gave way, caving with a gut-wrenching crunch and near-black blood oozed out.
Choking smells overwhelmed what little fresh air was in the cavity but I slammed my feet against it three more times; each time harder than the last, until I was satisfied it was dead. For good.
Burning pains wracking my already aching chest cavity, I let my feet splash back into the water, dropping like stones and the walker hung like a morbid Halloween decoration across from me.
My limbs grew heavier with every heave my lungs burdened me with. The stinging in my head lept to the foreground. The smell stewing in the space so nauseating I could almost feel the stomach acid in my throat; bile lapping at my stinging throat.
With the immediate threat dealt with, I finally looked around.
My stomach churned, and the water suddenly dropped another 10 degrees.