.oOo.
Rick was sitting beside Alice in the shade of the back porch when Diana came upon them, seeking shelter from the pitying eyes. Without a word she sat down at her sister's side, feeling her body ache with every move as her eyes adjusted to the blinding midday sun.
Rick didn't let her presence disturb him as he nodded in greeting and resumed his talk, "No matter how angry or frustrated, we don't do this, Alice."
Ah, Diana thought, it was about that, of course. Her eyes glanced over the mound of upturned earth off at the back of the property. She had been shocked when she'd heard what her sister had done. As a nurse, it appalled her. As a sister, it also appalled her, but somehow didn't come as a complete surprise. Alice had been going on a downward spiral since it all started.
Loss after loss, grief on top of grief, inhumanity around every corner. It could desensitize one to death. Then, thinking she had lost her, that had been the last drop, Diana assumed.
In no way or form did Alice's struggle with her mental and personality disorders make her a killer, but it could help to understand why she would react the way she did in those circumstances.
"We don't kill people," Rick summarized, "That's not who we are."
"They're not people, they're beasts," Alice countered. Diana couldn't see her expression as she faced away from her, but she could hear the fury in her voice. "The only difference between them and those out there is these can pretend they're not. They can trick you and betray you." She stood up and pointed at the second floor of the house. "And if those two fuckers are willing to let themselves starve, why not show them the mercy they clearly don't deserve, and open up two other graves?"
Rick gave Diana a pointed look. "Diana," his tone was pointed as well, urging her to appeal to her sister's good nature, however deeply hidden it was.
"Look, I'm obviously biased," she started, gesturing at her slinged arm and bruised face. There was a moment of shame on Rick's face before Diana continued, "And we can argue all day about morals, but bottom of the line is, what's done is done." Diana looked up at her sister's amber glare. "I can't ground you or punish you or imprison you." To Rick, she said, "Their cruelty brought them to this point. Fertig."
"That woman held a knife to Lori's belly," Alice said after a beat of loaded silence. "If she'd hurt her, really hurt her… Wouldn't you've done whatever it takes to make her pay?"
Rick, presumably not able to deny it, held his words. His mouth twitched into a scowl for a second, and Diana knew he was imagining such a scenario.
"What should we do with Tim and… and Larry?" Rick asked Diana, running a hand down his exhausted face. "Tim's stab wound is infected. He's refusing treatment, food…"
Alice scoffed with a sarcastic smile. "Good, let him rot until his blood poisons him."
"Alice," he reprehended, more half-hearted than before.
"Nothing can ever make me regret what I did," were her parting words as she stomped up the stairs and let the door slam behind her.
"I can't speak to her for you," Diana said before Rick could even voice the question his eyes were asking, "I won't do that. You don't get to ask that of me." How ungenuine of her would it be to try to convince her sister to feel compassion for the people who left her to die. She understood Rick's need to keep their moral compass due North, but she couldn't help him this time. Not on this. It would be cruel of him to even ask.
He nodded, his eyes flitting across her body rapidly, taking in her visible injuries. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he stood up, "That should never have happened". His eyes were sincere as his hand rested on her undamaged shoulder before he left her to the summer's humid air.
Diana felt the sting behind her eyes as her idle mind took her back in time, and blinked it away. She looked at the fresh grave ahead and flipped it off before entering the house with a clenched jaw.
The looks of pity she'd been on the receiving end of for the last three days followed her up the stairs. Diana only found refuge once the bedroom door closed behind her. It's like she could hear their thoughts; sympathetic and shameful, unsure how to approach her, how to speak to her, how to treat her other than a victim.
The pain in her dislocated shoulder slowly grew as she paced the floor, carelessly jolting the joint and tender flesh. Painkillers only helped so far. In addition, the pain served as a reminder that she wasn't a victim, but a survivor – a fighter. She flexed her right hand, looking over the faded scars taut over her knuckles. Pain had been a reminder back then as well.
And just as back then, her last nights had been plagued with terrors. Not always revolving around the incident, but ever so distressing. Of course, it was beyond a doubt that sleeping down the hall from her captors was a stress factor.
In one of those nights, when she'd woken up grasping at her sister's shirt, crying for help, Alice had just held her. No fake threats, no whining, just an arm around her and a surprising kiss on her temple.
Another night, Felix had woken her up with his own silent sobs. His tall and wiry frame had melted to her side, softly shaking. When she'd tried to wake him up from a supposed nightmare, she found his wet eyes open, lashes dark and heavy with tears. "I don't wanna lose you," he'd said, whispers in the dark. That was when she'd felt Alice's hand seek hers under the scratchy blanket.
"You won't lose me," Diana had promised, sniffing back her tears, knowing full well she might not be able to keep it one day. Harmless lies, comfort lies.
A white-hot stab caused Diana to wince away the heart-wrenching flashes. She tended to her shoulder, prodding the tender muscle with gentle fingers. It brought her no relief, instead, the ache spread up her neck, settling into the back of her head.
It gave way to frustration which sparked up a slow growing anger as Diana dragged her medical backpack out from under the bed. One-handed, she rummaged through her CDC finds for some basic paracetamol. The bottle she found was a third from the end.
There had to be more. She toppled the backpack so the spoils would spread across the wooden floors, and she grabbed bottle after box after vial, reading the labels of names she only half knew.
No paracetamol, though. There were other painkillers, mostly NSAIDs and some opioids, the latter which she didn't advertise being in her possession as not to risk any possible unrevealed addicts raiding her supplies.
Ibuprofen's anti-inflammatory properties suited her situation better than paracetamol, but the fact that they were already running low on the drug tickled her worry bone.
Add that to the pile.
Diana sat cross-legged on the floor, hunched over her mess, rubbing her aching head, ignoring her throbbing shoulder, thinking of all the things that had gone wrong in her life.
A soft hum trickled across the room. Familiar, haunting and taunting. Moving from ear to ear as if circling her cartoonishly.
Shame made her face flush. From between her fingers, Diana took a sheepish peek under the bed to her left. A golden glint winked playfully at her.
The nondescript song was bittersweet to her. Once a symbol of comfort and higher purpose now made inky sadness seep from her pores.
She sighed and crawled over to retrieve it, then hauled herself up to the edge of the mattress, feeling weighed down by the dark thoughts that manifested.
Back in regular times, with upstanding modern medicine and comfort, her shoulder injury would be nothing more than a nuisance, winning her a couple of weeks of rest from work as she recovered. Now, however, it could change everything for her.
She might not ever regain full range of mobility of her arm, or maybe not enough to wield the bow again. She had long weeks of healing and self-prescribed physiotherapy ahead of her. Weeks of uselessness. Weeks of wondering if she had become a burden, if she was still worthy of this bow.
What if her connection to Minerva was severed because of this? What if she was robbed the truth behind it all because of this? How would she deal with the uncertainty, the unanswered questions, the inability to do more, to help more, to be more.
Nausea hit her hard, accentuated by the headache, and cold sweat broke out on her hot skin. All of a sudden it felt like her heart wanted nothing more than to escape her body, beating and squeezing its way up and out of her. Was she having a heart attack? A dizzy feeling climbed up her head, painting her vision with spots and darkness as she clung to the bow and the bed with trembling hands, inhaling and exhaling with forced precision.
Diana wanted to call for help, but no word, no sound, other than fretful breathing came from her. Her ears began ringing, a tinnitus-like noise that drowned out everything else, it warned of her proximity to losing consciousness.
The constant pitch was slowly replaced by undulating notes, accompanied by warm infinitesimal vibrations that began at her fingertips. The bow's comfort rose up her hand, spreading like a blanket over her skin and then deeper, into her muscles, down to her bones, through her ribcage until it reached her frenzied heart.
Her pulse calmed and the shaking trickled to a stop. With closed eyes, Diana schooled her breath along the ups and downs of the song, feeling her brow unknit and her left hand's grip on the unmade bed soften.
A knock came at the door, ripping her out of her trance as she blinked back the moisture on her lower eyelids and cleared her throat.
"Hey," Glenn's voice conveyed sympathy but it still managed to irritate her. As soon as his gaze made contact with the mess on the floor, his brow furrowed and he stepped into the room fully. "Wow, everything okay? That's a stupid question."
Diana set the bow beside her, letting a limb touch her thigh for security. The mattress sank as Glenn joined her, their shoulders touching. The contact jolted her completely to reality.
"Hey," he said, again, as if trying to calm down a fretting animal. "I'm worried about you. We haven't talked at all since you're back. I need to know how you're doing. I need to know that my friend will tell me when she needs me there for her."
"Then you shouldn't wait to be told, you should just be there for me, no?" Diana snarked out, intolerant of the patronizing tone. She winced internally at her insolence in face of Glenn's kindness. This was her friend, her close friend, who was worried about her state of being and was awkward in approaching the subject. Have some compassion, Diana.
"I'm sorry," she sighed, cracking her knuckles against her thigh.
"No, no. You're right." Glenn's gaze was down, his face shameful. "I shouldn't have to wait for permission to be your friend. I mean, after you disappeared, I realized how I've been more distant lately, spending more time with Maggie, neglecting what we have. You're not like a- like a placeholder until a romanceable option comes along. You're irreplaceable to me, and I feel like shit for not seeing until you were literally taken from under our noses."
Tears had sprung in Diana's eyes with Glenn's monologue. She hadn't seen the truth of his words until he spelled it out for her. But the fault wasn't his entirely. Diana had been too preoccupied with her siblings the last weeks, and her own budding "romance". How could she blame Glenn for doing the same?
She couldn't find the words to say it, though, so she sat in silence as the knot of guilt grew tighter around her throat.
Diana's hand inched closer to Glenn's until it covered his skin-picking fingers. "I haven't been a good friend to you, either," she almost whispered. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry." She looked up at his hopeful eyes. "I'm sorry."
One hand gripped Diana's and the other swiped under his eyes.
This was the same guy who had shared his fears and hopes with her, listened to hers, shed tears under the stars together, held each other and laughed together. They didn't need romantic love to consider themselves soulmates.
"Do you- do you wanna talk about what happened?" he asked.
Under his compassionate eyes, Diana felt ready.
.oOo.
Diana had woken up parched and disoriented. Her siblings still slept soundly, but her mouth felt dry as cotton and soon her stomach began to rumble – because if Diana was awake it surely must be time to eat. Annoyed, she climbed out of bed over Felix and tiptoed her way down the creaking hall. She stood still when the rest of the house groaned, waiting it out, and continued down the stairs. With every squeaking step, she winced.
There was a lone candle in a glass container in the corner of the living room, casting a faint glow over the sleeping forms of the group.
Diana almost held her breath when someone turned in their sleep and sighed deeply, and listened intently to the light snores and rustling bedclothes. Having woken up no one, she released her breath and continued with light footfalls to the walk-in pantry to the back of the kitchen.
There was a twinge of guilt in the back of her mind for stealing food and water, but it was silenced by another stomach growl and the thought that she was simply fulfilling her physical needs, much like a SIM in a game.
There was a candle in a holder and a matchbox on the shelf by the door. She felt around for it and lit one, filling the small room with warmth. She could almost see the little bar filling with green as she chewed an apple to the core and scarfed down a handful of assorted nuts with some gulps of water in between. The sweet and earthy flavor combination satisfied her, and she could see in her mind's eye as the sleep bar entered dangerous red territory.
With a huff of humor at her own joke, Diana blew out the candle and felt her way out, turning the doorhandle painstakingly slow as she closed the door behind her.
The air was heavy, almost choking her, when she heard the shuffle of clothes from behind. A sharp pain on her skull made her drop to her knees, blind and dazed. "What-" Her mouth was covered by a hand smelling like dirt and burlap. The confusion was blinked away and replaced with fear as her eyes widened and looked for the owner.
The dizziness doubled when she was lifted into the air by her torso and ankles. Her hands reached up to scratch and punch and pull while her feet kicked at the chest of the second person until they were loose.
A winded voice hissed – "Shut her up."
Diana was brought back to consciousness with the wind being knocked out of her. She wheezed and coughed through it, wincing at the throbbing at her temple.
She needed to blink several times to gather her wits. She found herself almost upside down, thrown over a horse's back like a sack of potatoes, with immobile limbs and blood rushing to her head.
Panic gripped her by the neck, almost choking her, and a terrified whine escaped her tight throat. She was confused and afraid, the warning prickle of danger raising every hair on her body. Her first instinct was to yell out for help, but another part of her, a part which still regained some sense of logic, told her to slow her roll.
She needed to get a sense of the situation before making any rash decisions.
Against her every taught instinct, Diana stamped down the need to draw attention to herself and remained silent. With her heartbeat pulsing in her ears and stars dancing in her vision, she listened and observed, gathering clues.
Literal stars on a dark pinkening sky, hoofbeats on dirt, a balding blonde man taking the reins, the early calls of robins and thrushes and wrens, fresh dewy air on her brown skin.
Now that she had gathered her clues, Diana was clueless what to do next. The picture she had painted was contradictory, could appear so lovely but for one sordid detail.
She recognized the walk and the bawdy tattoo of a naked pin-up girl on Larry's bicep. She remembered cringing at the first sight of it as he flexed it for Carl's curious eyes to see, and how revolted Lori had been, scolding the man and taking her son away.
Diana didn't know if he was aware she was awake, so she pretended not to be, quietly rubbing her tied wrists and ankles together in hopes of loosening the ropes. With every jolt of the horse, she would tug on them, feeling for some slack.
Adrenaline flooded her. Her heart beat loudly in her chest and ears. It made the splitting headache worse, but at least forced her to stay conscious. A wet warmth trickled up her forehead, droplets of blood dripping into her hairline from the hit that had knocked her out. The pressure of the blood rushing to her head made her dizzy and breathless. Diana had to get down and away, fast.
She had no luck with the ropes; they were old, stiff and scratchy. But she couldn't wait around until they reached whatever nefarious location they were headed to. Maybe if she slid off the horse softly, Larry wouldn't notice and would keep "guiding" her away, giving her enough time to untie herself and run off.
With a set mind, Diana took a deep breath for courage, then began to wiggle herself backwards until she began to feel her body involuntarily slide. With no way brace herself, she hit her chin on the way down, biting her tongue with a yelp, and falling gracelessly to the dirt like a ragdoll.
Diana lied on her side, recovering from the fall and swirling the blood mixed with saliva in her mouth.
"Sunova- Larry, help me out here," said a second familiar voice, and Diana felt the despair grow. She was forced to sit up by the armpits, her sleeping clothes dragging on damp dirt, cold seeping through.
Larry's face stared emptily down at her before the back of his hand flew against her cheek.
Diana's head snapped to the side with the impact, unexpected and unsettling. The initial sting turned into a throbbing cheek and jaw. The metallic taste in her mouth doubled, and she spat it out at him. Some landed on his face, most on his ratty white tank.
His blank face broke with a disgusted sneer, and Diana gave him a satisfied smile through unshed tears.
She could see how her momentary smugness had been a mistake once his hand flew out again.
In the time it took her to reel back from the shock of the assault, the two men had the horse kneel and hauled her onto its back again, knocking the wind out of her once more. This time, they used rope to secure her to the animal, preventing a repeat of her shenanigans.
The next mouthful of bloody saliva found the ground moving under her.
"Why are you-" she was interrupted by Larry's fingers digging into her hair to snap her head up, and Diana yelped at the pain in her scalp and neck. Her breathing seized for a moment in anticipation. Another backhanded slap threw her head down and made her see stars.
Tears fell from her heavy lashes as her vision recovered. A nauseating feeling came quickly over her, and she vomited her early snack, coughing out chunks of nuts and bile.
The men showed no reaction, no hint of care.
"Where are you taking me?" her voice sounded weaker than she intended, her words tasted foul, but she persisted.
Again, he held her head up. Again, he hit her.
Diana cried out in hurt and desperation, and cowered expecting another blow that didn't come. What was happening? Why were they doing this to her? Were the others alright?
They were praying, Diana heard, barely audible over the horse's loud breathing and her own breathless sobs. They were praying.
She wanted to wake up. Was she having a night terror? She considered a prayer of her own, but praying hadn't cured her grandfather's cancer, it hadn't brought her parents back to life, it wouldn't loosen her ropes now and knock her captors unconscious.
Diana kept silent in fear of punishment, focusing her diminishing energy and hope on finding a way to escape instead of imagining what end awaited her. End… Were they going to kill her?
Her chin quivered, thinking of her brother and sister. How would they survive losing her? Yet another loved one gone. Twice orphaned, it felt like.
Were they even safe? She had left them tucked and sound in their bed, but who was to say that hadn't changed, that they hadn't been dragged out by filthy hands and wicked smiles. Imagining them in her position, at the mercy of bloodthirsty strangers, set her blood alight, burning down to her fingertips. Her jaw set with new determination.
Her knuckles tightened, her arms flexed and bulged with the muscle her archery training had put on. Daryl had given her a regime of upper body strength exercises to improve her skills and endurance with the bow. He had been rigorous and insistent; a damn good teacher. After the quarry, Diana had kept to the workout as a way to clear her mind, to feel the blood rush to the muscle fibers, to feel strong and capable.
Her dad's self-defense lessons had been valuable to her and the kids, and despite not having put them to use recently, they had spent hours and hours practicing under the hot sun and cool dusk, for lack of better entertainment.
Muscle memory was all she needed.
That, and a chance.
If Diana appeared to cower, to make herself small, she might be seen as non-threatening, giving her enough leeway to somehow free herself and escape. Of course, there were holes in the plan, which wasn't exactly a plan to begin with, but she had never been the best strategist. More of an improviser.
The pink light of dawn stretched over the horizon, streaking through the trees as the horse's gait was halted with a click of the tongue. Diana turned her throbbing head, attempting to situate herself. There was no identifiable structure in sight, no landmark that would point her to the way back. She could simply follow the opposite direction, but maybe they had led the horse in circles to disorientate her.
Diana was untied and unloaded from the animal by rough hands. She kept her head low, her posture hunched. Were they going free her limbs? The bone tight grasp on her upper arm said maybe.
Where were they? Why stop there? She saw no weapons, nothing with which to torture and kill her. Confusion grew, but she didn't let it affect her plotting.
"It'll work easier if we free 'er arms, you don't think?" Tim, whose grip on her was unrelenting, said to the other man off somewhere Diana couldn't see.
Her lowered gaze caught Larry's stomping boots as he approached, unfolding a switchblade. The smell of freedom made her eyes widen. "Wait, we can still use it." Instead of allowing the rope to be cut, Tim undid the knots while Larry manacled both her wrists with his coarse hands, weighing her down.
Diana felt the scratchy material leave her sore skin. She could hear the angels sing and cracked her knuckles with her thumbs.
Her hands were almost immediately retied. No longer behind her back, but each wrist bound individually with an extension of rope, confusing her.
"The feet?" Tim asked.
"Leave 'em. We can drag 'er."
Diana glared at the teasing pin-up as Larry grabbed her under one armpit, securing her left arm while Tim did the same on the right.
"Better not struggle, ya hear?" Larry's breath was foul, like he'd eaten rotten meat, and it tickled the hairs against her wet cheek.
She half hopped, half drug her bare feet on the ground as they took her towards the base of a tree, tall and wide. Diana put two and two together. "No…" She saw herself dangling. "No!" Cold sweat broke out on her bloody hairline. She tugged her arms.
If she didn't act now, her opportunity would pass, and so would she.
She went lax in their hold, catching them off-guard, then slammed her body sideways into Larry. The unexpecting man went down under her.
Her arms were free. She wrapped the length of rope around his neck and climbed on top of him as much as her tied feet allowed. Squeezing, seeing his face turn red, his eyes widen, his fingers reach towards her unreachable face.
Her right arm was pulled on by Tim by the other end of the rope. She toppled to the side, almost falling face first into the dirt, and Larry scurried away, gasping for breath.
Diana wrapped her hand around the taut rope and tugged hard, but her grounded self didn't have much leverage. She collected the rope that bound her left wrist so Larry couldn't get a hold of it, and dug her heels into the ground.
"Fuck, Larry, do somethin'!"
Diana couldn't see him but could hear him sputtering, then the swish of metal, and she remembered the switchblade. A hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and the cold blade touched her pulsing neck. Diana grunted and drew in a sharp breath, her free hand grabbed Larry's wrist on her head.
"Let go. It don't have to be this way." His breath was warm and nausea inducing.
Small swirls danced in Diana's vision. She was burnt out, running on adrenaline that slowly left her synapses. But she wouldn't go down easy. She would make it hell for these bigots to kill her.
With secure feet, she thrust her body up and backwards, into Larry once more, but he had been quick to stand from his crouch, and Diana slammed to the ground with his hand still attached to her scalp. She landed on something hard that made her back ache and knocked the air out of her.
She cried out in pain, tears fresh on her lashes, and blinked up at the dawn, cursing the sun for taunting her with its light and pink sky.
Larry released her hair but got hold of the free rope. He pulled it taut until her shoulder protested and another cry left her throat. Like that, both men dragged her closer to the tree until forcing her to stand with her back against it.
"What now?" Tim asked, "it's too hard if she keeps fightin'."
"Don't be a fuckin' wuss, Tim. She fights, you smack 'er. That'll keep 'er down."
Diana's cheeks stung at the memory. Keep her down, my ass. "Smack me all you want, fuckers, I'm gonna kill you." Her words were somewhat muddled.
Larry's sneer told her that had he had a free hand, it would've flown at her face right then. "Hold 'er down, I'll do the tyin'."
"How you want me to do that?"
"Figure it out!"
Diana didn't care what they wanted to do, she just saw with hungry eyes as Tim came closer and quickly held both her wrists, so Larry could take one side of the rope and do whatever they meant to do. She stared at the man unblinkingly, wide eyed, ravenous, and felt him avoid her gaze at all costs.
He was the weak link, obviously. His grip was strong, though. But he made the mistake of holding her from the front. With a snap, she pulled her hands back, then thrust them at his face, which met her hardened fists with a crack.
Tim released her to hold his injured nose with a loud expletive, and Diana slammed her palms over his ears, to reassure he was preoccupied for some seconds.
Larry, straddling a branch up high, saw the commotion and immediately pulled on his side of rope so Diana jerked forward, unbalanced, and fell.
Shit-fuck-shit.
Diana's brain fired, unsure of the next step. Tim was grounded and Larry was aloft, it seemed perfect yet she still was bound. She used the time as he was busy clambering down to untie her feet. Her pulse was loud and strong, hopeful.
Her arm was pulled and her face met the dirt. He pulled her in, bringing her close and dragging her across the ground. She fought for purchase but Larry's rage was unyielding.
Diana felt fear return.
"You stupid she-devil, you can't escape your fate," he yelled.
Once she was in his proximity, his fist flew at her. Diana didn't feel the hit, but her vision blackened at the edges, hearing slowly faded, and body went lax until she lay limp and unresponsive on the ground. She blinked once and twice, then was gone.
Her last thought was of fear for her family.
.oOo.
Once Diana came to, her head felt like she'd survived a train wreck. Her eyes were open but she couldn't see and yet the world was spinning. They'd blindfolded her.
It hurt her chest to breathe, like she had to force each inhale and exhale. She'd been so sure she wouldn't wake up again. Tears wet the blindfold as she sobbed and gasped in relief.
Tim and Larry had heaved her up the tree and tied her spread open arms to branches, in a crucified position. Her ankles remained bound to each other but not the tree. Bark dug into her back, and she could feel painful welts where it had scratched across her skin when they hoisted her. Diana wriggled her body to relieve her back and staggered down the trunk with a yelp.
The rope tightened around her wrists and her right shoulder painfully took most of her weight. It became harder to breathe as her chest expanded excessively. Her heels dug into the bark and pushed her body back up, as far as she could, just so she could take a couple more wheezed breaths.
Diana could barely feel her right arm, down to her fingers, yet the pain in the shoulder joint and surrounding tissue was sharp and agonizing. It felt dislocated.
The blindfold made her feel claustrophobic. She could see daylight through the fabric, smell the morning dew and something foul. She needed to get it off.
Diana rubbed the back of her head against the tree, and the blindfold slowly slid down her nose and face. She was shortly blinded by the light of dawn straight ahead, blinking to get used to it.
Larry and Tim had attempted to crucify her. 'Attempted' because luckily for Diana, they hadn't nailed her hands and feet down. She was caught in a shitstorm; lost, alone, breathless, likely with a dislocated shoulder and no way of freeing herself, but at least she didn't have rusty nails through her appendages with a change of sepsis, nor had she been hanged. Silver linings.
The drop of optimism was swiftly swept away as her ears picked up a familiar sound in the distance. Faint, almost echoing, but distinct enough to strike fear into her very core.
Diana looked down at the foot of the tree, saw the source of the foul smell, and knew Tim and Larry had left it there as bait. A mess of feathers and blood and guts, what remained of a chicken, perhaps. Buzzards flew around it, landed on it, landed on her feet. Bile rose to her mouth and she wiggled her toes to get them off.
The sound continued in the distance, resembling a countdown.
Diana saw no escape but she didn't want to see herself be gutted, to watch herself be eaten alive. Shivers wracked her body and her teeth clattered. Her thighs began to feel sore and her foot slipped, making her breathless once more and a stab of pain strike through her shoulder. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out.
She felt like crying, to sob in her misery and wait for someone to find her, to rescue her. She knew those were empty hopes. She needed to rescue herself or die trying.
Somehow, in her disoriented state, she needed to find her way back to the others, to warn them of these vultures in hiding, to protect her siblings and her people. She wanted to fall into a warm embrace that would help her forget her woes. She wanted to have her tears kissed away and her worries listened to. She wanted to be comforted.
Tree bark cut into her heels as Diana pushed herself up and tried to wriggle her left wrist free. If she succeeded, she might be able to untie herself.
The rope was stiff, it looped around her wrist, then around the branch, and the more she struggled, the tighter it became. Although, it was old and slightly frayed with use. If not wriggle free, she would try to break free.
The groans of the walkers were hard to pinpoint, but became closer. Diana rubbed her bound wrist against the tree bark, wearing away at the rope, thread by thread.
She saw it slowly thin away and felt light in the horizon. She tugged at it once, twice and three times until her arm came flying away and she swung over, hanging on by her right wrist. It was agony, and made cold sweat seep out Diana's pores as she fought to keep consciousness, worry that she might lose her arm tucked in the back of her mind.
Her left hand grabbed hold of the branch, and she used all her strength to hoist herself. Her abdomen crunched as she swung her tied feet up until her ankles found purchase on the branch and she slowly scooched up until her knees were hooked on it and she hung half upside down.
With her free left hand, she made fast work to untie her right.
Diana was in danger. She saw them now. Two walking corpses. They didn't seem very fresh, which made them slow, but a threat was still a threat. Her heartbeat picked up, she was on the edge of hyperventilation.
They had seen her, smelled either her or the bait beneath her. Their direction was true.
She worked faster, her wrist came loose, numb arm swung heavily down. The momentum tipped her balance and her tired legs gave way, unhooking, and Diana came crashing down, shoulder first.
The fall winded her, but she forced herself to sit up, gasping, wiping the tears that blinded her.
She was free. But not out of the woods yet.
One walker tripped and fell like a lumbered tree, but it was quick to resume its hunt, on all fours.
The frantic search for defense began as Diana scrambled backwards until her back hit the tree. She picked up a handful of chicken guts and threw them behind the walkers, hoping it would distract them. But why should they be enticed by dead entrails when a more delicious live meal was in front of them?
Diana tried to stand but stabbing pain in her ankle dropped her.
The standing walker clambered ever closer. Diana's hands found a rock. The walker reached down to her. Diana took a deep breath and kicked her feet at his knees, seeing them cave in the other side and knocking it down.
She crawled over quickly and the rock found its decrepit temple as the crawler closed in to grab onto her ankle.
Adrenaline spiked and she turned with a swing of the rock in its direction. Her shoulder caused her agony, but the fear overruled the pain, the sheer will to survive ruled above all.
The crawler was knocked down, but the felled walker still reached for her. A two-handed hit smashed its skull in for good.
The remaining one's jaw was closing in on Diana's toes before she crawled away herself. One more hit, with her entire body weight behind it, and the crawler went down. As did Diana.
She laid on the cold dirt, old leaves stuck to her hair, twigs digging into her back, morning dew wetting her clothes. Alive.
She shivered, then curled onto her side, and cried.
It was a short-lived pity-party; she could hear more walkers in the distance.
Diana stood, wiped her cheeks, picked up her rock, and walked. Her ankle shot pain up her leg, yet she walked. The rock she cradled in both hands weighed a ton to her aching shoulder, yet she held on.
Her body had taken a beating, her head was an explosion of dynamite. She carried on, wandering, lost but hopeful.
She outwalked the walkers, steady pace and distance building between her and them.
Diana heard her name being called, echoing, and let out a desperate sigh of relief. It became a beacon as she stumbled towards the sound. She licked her cracked lips and croaked out "I'm here!", louder each time, until her dry throat became sore.
Her calls became whispers when she spotted them, "I'm here." And there she was, dirty, bloody, sore beyond imagination. A weight fell from her shoulders. Exhaustion dropped her to her knees, the rock rolled from her hands.
The world disappeared.
.oOo.
There was no pity in Glenn's eyes after Diana relayed the short version of events. Sympathy yes, but not pity. She appreciated it. She relished in it, in his close friendship. He held her in his arms then, rocking her side to side gently, his cheek to her cheek.
They heard commotion outside, in the hallway, breaking them apart. She and Glenn shared a look and stepped out, leaving the mess behind. Spectators had gathered outside the room where Diana's captors were held. The shock in the hubbub of their conversation drew Diana closer, curious despite wanting to avoid proximity to the men.
Carol had immediately stepped away, covering her mouth and looking green in the face. Lori stood at the end of the hall with Carl at her side, deciding against approaching.
"What?" sounded Alice's voice from within the room, nonchalant, challenging. Urgency pressed Diana past the others.
Tim and Larry laid limp on the wooden floors, in a puddle of their own blood. The metallic tang of blood lingered in the air, choking Diana. Their throats had been slit, their skulls stabbed through the eyes.
Alice dropped the knife at her feet, wiped her hands on her pants, and walked past the onlookers with hands in the air. With a lasting look at Rick, she said, "Problem solved."
whew, that was a doozy to write. it was fun but somewhat complex, since i'm still working on how to write my action sequences. i like descriptive sentences, but in action packed moments, they kinda drag the story, so it goes against my instincts. reading back and editing, i feel proud of this chapter, though. the first draft had been rushed and the scene between glenn and diana in the beginning was somewhat cold and not very them. i like that i turned that into an introspective moment in their relationship. i simply adore them.
my sister, as my beta reader, was so psyched at alice's last scene. don't you love it when women-
hope you enjoyed reading it!
