The Wolf You Feed

Chapter 70

The room was six paces long and 3 paces wide. The only window was small and well secured, covered with enough boards that only a few slivers of light were able to sneak in between them. There was a small cot against one wall and in the other corner there was a bucket. Once a day a small section of the large wooden door was swung open and a tray was pushed in. Daryl was being provided with food and water. Enough to keep him from starving to death. But that's all he was being given. No information. No answers. Not even when he kicked the door and screamed for hours demanding to know why he was being held in this place.

It had been at least four days. Maybe longer. Daryl wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious after he was drugged. With every passing moment, the panic was rising inside him. Every hour that he spent locked in this room was an hour that the Saviors had Rowan. He had to get out. Daryl's fingers were sore and bleeding in spots from trying to pry the boards off the window. His bare feet and shoulders were bruised from trying to force the heavy door open. There was no way out. Not unless these people let him out. Carol wasn't coming to save him like she had at terminus. The Savoirs had her too. When he considered the possibility that he may not ever be let out, that's when the panic would start to rise into his throat. Daryl shoved it back down. He couldn't let it consume him. He had to stay calm.

Daryl turned his head towards the sound of a latch being opened. The bottom section of the door swung open. A bottle of water was shoved through, followed by a bowl of oatmeal. Usually the door was immediately snapped shut. But this time it remained open.

"Here's the deal," the voice on the other side of the door said. Daryl rushed towards the door, kneeling down and peering through the opening. All he could see was the man's boots. "I will open this door. If you try any bullshit you will be put right back in here and not let out again for a long ass time. Got it?"

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, "I got it." He stood up quickly and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He was still dressed in the pants and shirt he had left home in. But nothing else. They had taken his socks, shoes, and jacket. Thankfully, the necklace that held Rowan's crystal and her wedding ring were still around his neck. Either these people hadn't seen the necklace tucked under his shirt, or they had no interest in jewelry.

The door opened slowly. Daryl saw the gun before he saw the man holding it. There was a handgun pointed at him. Daryl unclenched his fists and put his hands up, palms facing the man. The man appeared to be his age or maybe a little younger. He was wearing a black hoodie and black cargo pants with combat boots. From the way he was holding the gun in his hands, it was obvious that he was trained in the use of the weapon.

"Grab your shit bucket," the man ordered, pointing to the bucket in the corner that Daryl had been forced to use as a toilet. Daryl stepped back and picked the bucket up by the handle. The man stayed behind him, barking out orders that directed him which way to go. Daryl took in as much as he could about his surroundings.

They were in a tall building, he climbed at least 3 or four flights of stairs. But it didn't seem very large. The hallways were short. Daryl didn't see anyone besides his guard until he stepped out onto the rooftop. Then he saw another man, dressed almost identical to the first. This one was holding a large rifle with a scope attached to the top. The man was marching back and forth across the rooftop.

Daryl was directed to the far side of the roof, where he dumped the contents of his bucket over the side. He had been right about the size of the building. It was taller than it was wide. Another shorter section of the building jetted off to one side, but that appeared to be a large garage or pole barn. Daryl had no idea what the building had originally been used for. But it had clearly been in the middle of a large wooded area. More recently, everything within a half mile of the building had been burnt down. It was smart. With a lookout on the roof and nothing to block his line of sight, these people would be able to see anything or anyone that was coming long before they arrived.

The man with the gun pulled the scope off and set it on a small folding table next to a cooler before heading towards the door that led back inside. As he entered the building, a blonde woman exited. She had her own gun, but walked over and picked up the scope, attaching it to the top of her weapon. They only had one scope. Daryl wasn't sure how it would help him, but he filed that bit of information away in the back of his mind.

Daryl was marched back to his room. He expected to be locked in again. But instead he was told to leave the bucket and then he was taken to another room. This room was much larger than the one he had been held in. A giant pile of backpacks and stacks of boxes was leaning against one wall. A man and a woman were sorting through them, grabbing the bags one by one and dumping the contents onto a table, then sorting and organizing the items inside. Another man with a gun was standing near the doorway, watching them.

There were piles and crates of various items. One held clothing. A few were full of cans of food. The most unsettling was the giant pile of shoes near the opposite wall. There had to be at least fifty pairs, if not more. One lone shoe had fallen from the pile and was lying on the ground about a foot away. It was small with velcro straps instead of shoestrings. Clearly the shoe belonged to a child. Daryl felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge when he began to wonder where the owners of those shoes were and what had become of them.

"Don't even botha tryin'," the woman whispered to Daryl as she pulled a can of corn from a random pack and tossed it into the bin that held the rest of the canned goods. Daryl glanced at her, giving her a questioning look. While his captors had no southern accents, this woman's accent was thick. Daryl could hear the sharp twang in her voice even when she whispered.

"Makin' a run fer it," the woman clarified.

The guard glanced in their direction, quieting the woman momentarily. Once he had turned his attention back to the magazine in his hands, she spoke to Daryl again. "I can see you watching them, looking for an opportunity to run," she whispered. Daryl nodded. He didn't think his actions had been that obvious. But he was looking for any opportunity to escape.

"There's a sniper up on the ruff. They'll shoot ya down like a dog before ya make it 20 paces," the woman said before she added that she had already seen this happen to at least half a dozen people since arriving at this place.

Daryl got the impression that the fear of being shot was the only reason the woman hadn't run away herself. Daryl guessed she was about his age. Her head was shaved as bald as his and Daryl wondered if she had given herself such an extreme haircut or if these people had done it to her. The woman was muscular for a girl, but not very tall. Unlike her silent companion, who was one of the tallest men Daryl had ever seen. Daryl was hesitant to trust anyone but there was something in her eyes. He could see a fierce determination there. He trusted that she was going to do what she needed to do in order to be free of this place. Just like him. And that put them on the same team. For now at least.

"I'm gettin' outta here and so are you," Daryl whispered back. These were the first words he had spoken to the woman. She didn't say anything back but he noticed the corners of her mouth tilted up into a sly smile.

After their brief conversation, they sorted items in silence for several hours. The guard in the room kept an eye on them, but didn't seem overly concerned with what they were doing. Daryl sorted through the items, looking for something useful. He wasn't finding much. No weapons and nothing that could be used as a weapon. The closest thing he found to a knife was a metal can opener that he quickly tucked away into his pocket.

"Those two!"

The loud voice startled Daryl. He looked up to see another guard in the doorway of the room. To Daryl's dismay the man was pointing at him and the bald woman. The man that had been watching them came towards them with his gun, motioning for them to follow the man in the doorway. Daryl felt his pocket for the can opener. Not a very good weapon but he might be able to stun the man if he hit him in the side of the head with it. He could tell the tall man wasn't happy about being separated from the woman. He took a few steps towards them as they were leaving the room. But he was quickly ordered back to his previous task by another man with a large gun.

"Pick that stuff up," the man ordered, pointing to a crate of cleaning supplies. Daryl took his hand off his pocket and relaxed slightly. He wasn't going to be killed or tortured. He was just going to be used as a janitor. Daryl picked up the crate and followed the woman he had been working with. Unlike him, she seemed to have some idea where they were going.

Daryl and the bald woman cleaned each bathroom while the man with the gun looked on from the doorway. There was no indoor plumbing so they had to take the buckets or bowls of excrement up to the roof and dump them off. This meant climbing several flights of stairs carrying not only the cleaning supplies but buckets of shit and piss after each room they cleaned. Daryl could feel the exhaustion setting in. He hadn't had much to eat or drink in the last few days. Just water and a few bowls of oatmeal.

They had just stepped out onto the rooftop for the fifth time when Daryl suddenly got an idea. The guard on sniper duty set the scope down, just like the one earlier had done. Daryl looked down at the bucket of cleaning supplies in his hands.

"Distract them," he whispered to the woman, "I only need a second." The woman met his eyes with hers and gave Daryl a silent nod. They each dumped a bucket over the side of the building. There was one more but the woman picked it up and started back towards the door. Daryl followed her, carrying the cleaning supplies. She stopped abruptly when they were halfway to the door.

"I forgot to dump this'un here!," she hollered, "it's still full of piss!"

"Well hurry your ass up and go dump it then," the guard ordered.

The guard replacing the sniper was stepping through the doorway onto the rooftop. Daryl's body tensed. He was going to lose this opportunity. But then he heard a thump and a scream. The woman had faked a fall near the edge of the building. The bucket of piss had already gone flying over the edge. He wasn't sure how much of this was intentional on her part but she looked about ready to fall off the edge of the building herself. She screamed and both guards ran in her direction. Daryl grabbed the bottle of toilet cleaner they had been using to wash out the buckets and twisted the cap off. He grabbed the gun scope off the table and coated it liberally with the slimy blue liquid. Then he darted the few steps back to his crate and tossed the bottle back in with the rest of the cleaning supplies.

The woman had been hauled back away from the edge of the rooftop and was shuffling between the two guards. She met Daryl's eyes with hers, raising her eyebrows. He nodded his head.

"Two more shitters to clean and you two shitters can pack it in for today," the guard informed them as he pointed them into another dirty bathroom. They stayed quiet, waiting for an opportunity to talk when the guard wouldn't be listening in. They didn't get one until they were cleaning the second and final bathroom. The man stepped away from them to answer a call that came in on his walkie.

"We can run now," Daryl hissed at the woman. "Next person that looks through that scope is going to get a real fucking unpleasant surprise." The woman smiled at him.

"I know tha way out," she whispered back. "We need ta do this now before they lock us in fer the night." Daryl nodded his agreement. The woman glanced towards the guard. He was done on the radio. She picked up the mostly full bucket by the handle and stepped towards the man.

"We're all done cleanin' in here," she announced.

Daryl was behind her, still inside the bathroom. He saw the woman reach her free hand behind her back and under her shirt. From the waistband of her pants she withdrew a toothbrush, the plastic end of which had been sharpened into a wicked looking point. The woman set down the bucket, pretending she needed to adjust her grip on the handle. She whipped up suddenly, slashing the man's throat with her homemade shank. The man's eyes widened in shock as the blood poured from his neck. Daryl moved quickly, grabbing the man before he fell to the ground and dragging him backwards, further into the room. As the man choked to death on his own blood, Daryl and the woman took his weapons.

Daryl gripped the large knife he had taken from the man in his hand. The rifle was on his back, but he didn't want to use it. One shot in here and these people would be on him like ants on a cookie crumb. He didn't know how long the woman had been captive here. But it was clearly long enough that she knew her way around the place.

Daryl assumed she was heading straight for the outside door. But instead she darted down the only hallway that Daryl recognized so far. The heavy doors on either side were bolted shut. One concealed the room where he had been held for the last four days. The woman quickly drug the thick piece of wood that was holding the door shut out of the way, setting it silently on the ground next to the door. Daryl was a few feet back, keeping an eye out to make sure no one was coming. The woman gestured to someone inside the room and then held her arms open. Daryl had already guessed that the woman was releasing someone she knew from inside the room. But he was still shocked when a young girl rushed out the door, throwing herself into the woman's open arms. Daryl wasn't much on guessing the ages of children but this one looked like she might have been about kindergarten age if kindergarten still existed. She had long brown hair that was braided back from her face in a long thick rope that fell down to the middle of her back.

"Momma!," the girl crooned as she gripped the woman tightly. The woman was quick to shush the girl, warning her not to make any more noise.

Their next stop was the room where they had been sorting through the pack of stolen belongings. The guard was still in the doorway, his eyes on his magazine. The woman shoved her daughter behind her, pulling the sharpened toothbrush back out. Daryl shook his head at her, gesturing towards his knife. The woman nodded, bringing her hand up and dragging one finger across her throat. She wanted him to kill the man by slitting his throat, to keep him from making any noise. Daryl nodded, grateful that the ruthless woman was on his side. At least for now.

Daryl made quick work of the guard, dispatching him in the way that the bald woman had instructed. Once he was dead, the little girl rushed into the room, leaping over his body so she could hurl herself at the large man that was still sorting canned goods inside. Daryl couldn't keep the smile from his face as he grabbed one of the empty bags and stuffed it with a few bottles of water and cans of food from the bins. He wasn't sure if the giant silent was the girl's father or not, but the affection between them was obviously genuine.

The large man took the gun off the guard that Daryl had killed. Then as quietly as possible, they headed for the door. There were two more guards near the door. And there was no way to take these men by surprise. The large man simply raised his gun and mowed both men down, killing them instantly. Daryl helped the big man as he pulled the barricade out of the way.

The little girl squinted at the bright light that was now streaming in from the open door. The big man squatted down, allowing her to clamber up onto his back. She clung on tightly with her arms and legs, leaving the man's arms free to wield his gun. The woman pointed her finger in the direction that would get them to the woods the fastest.

"Ready?," she asked. Both Daryl and the big man nodded. Then all three of them took off running. Daryl was strong. He was an experienced hunter and a formidable opponent in a fight. But he wasn't much of a runner. His feet were bare and the ground underneath him was uneven and littered with debris. His ribs were burning and he was breathing through his mouth, gasping for air when he heard the gunshot. The woman running next to him fell. Daryl stopped and grabbed for her, already cursing himself for stopping instead of continuing to run for his life. But then he heard screaming from the rooftop. The toilet cleaner on the scope had done its job. Whoever just fired the gun would be lucky if they didn't lose sight in that eye.

The woman was still conscious. And not even bleeding too badly. She hadn't taken a direct hit. The bullet had only grazed the side of her already shaved head. The big man set the child down and lifted the woman into his arms instead.

"Get on," Daryl told the girl, gesturing to his back. The girl hesitated for a moment before she climbed onto Daryl's back, holding tightly to his shoulders to keep from slipping off.

It felt longer, but they had really only stopped for a moment. Daryl and his companions were safe inside the cover of the woods before more guards exited the building. The big man took a few shots in their direction, sending the men ducking for cover back inside the doors.

They moved together as a small group for a while longer, heading straight through the woods and just trying to put as much distance as they could between them and their captors. When they got to a small and quickly running stream, they stopped. Daryl sipped from a bottle of water, still trying to catch his breath. The woman and her daughter both knelt down, cupping water from the running stream and drinking from their hands. Daryl considered warning them that they ought to boil the water first. But he shrugged his shoulders and decided to mind his own business. They had survived this long without his advice. And the truth was that he drank water from creeks and streams many times in his life and had never become ill from it.

"Our camp is to tha East," the woman said, ticking her head in that direction. After a pause, she added, "yer welcome to come on back with us." Daryl nodded his appreciation at her offer. He could tell from the looks that passed between her and the big man that the woman didn't make such invitations lightly.

"I'm headed North," Daryl responded. The woman remained stoic but he could see obvious disappointment in her daughter's eyes. "My wife was taken by another group," he explained, "I'm gonna get her back."

The little girl nodded her understanding, pity for him showing plainly in her expression. Daryl smiled at her. She was cute and sweet. For a moment Daryl considered giving these people directions to Alexandria. If he had been out recruiting with Aaron, they would have brought these people back with them and offered the small family safe haven. But then Daryl remembered that Alexandria was under attack and possibly about to go to war with the Saviors. Daryl decided these people would probably be better off back at their own camp. And not only that. Something about the mannerisms of the big man made Daryl uneasy. He still hadn't spoken a word and he was sitting in an oddly hunched position, his hair covering his face.

"My name's Lydia," the little girl told him before adding, "maybe I'll see you again someday."

"Maybe you will," Daryl agreed. "My name's Daryl."

The little girl repeated his name a few times to herself as she dipped her toes in the cool mud on the edge of the creekbed. Her mother took another sip of water before she rose to her feet and reached for her daughter's hand.

"Well brotha Daryl," the woman said, "I guess this is where we leave ya."

Daryl nodded. He sat and sipped the rest of his bottled water as he watched the small group of people disappear into the woods. The big man carried Lydia on his back while her mother walked beside him with the large gun in her hands. They were odd, but also the only people Daryl had met so far that had been anything close to friendly. He tucked the memory of them and the direction of their camp away in the back of his mind. He had a strange feeling that one day he would see them again.