"Better Days"
Author: carmen_085
Disclaimer: I don't own any Walking Dead characters. Original characters are mine
Author's Note: Thanks for your feedback as always. I hope you like this new chapter and continue to review.
Summary: Daryl and Carl go out looking for Sophia and get separated from the group. Alone with two kids, Daryl must keep his own demons at bay while protecting them from not only the dead but also a very dangerous person who has nothing to lose.
Chapter 8
Blinking, Carl's vision was clouded by tears as he darted through the forest. The brown and green hues blurred together as an involuntary sob escaped from his throat. Pumping his arms back and forth he willed himself to move faster as the image of Daryl lying bloodied and broken on the ground flashed through his mind.
How did this happen?
Carl felt his throat tighten. This was his fault. He couldn't escape the weight of this decision; there was no adult who had been there. This was on him. He stopped Daryl from killing Shane. He went after Shane. Even after everything he and Daryl had been through he still didn't completely trust him. And that cost them in the end. If Daryl died Carl would never be able to forgive himself.
Stopping abruptly he doubled over. His chest heaved as he looked around. The silence of the forest was deafening as he felt a new wave of panic creep up his spine.
"Daddy…" He didn't even know that the word had escaped his lips until it was too late. His voice was high and squeaky; he barely recognized it. Carl was standing on the edge of his childhood. At twelve he still had the heart of a child when this unforgiving new world demanded so much more. If he wanted to survive he couldn't be afraid, he had to make the hard decisions, and he needed to take responsibility for his actions. It was daunting and he suddenly wished his dad were here. He would know what to do.
Struggling to swallow the fear he wiped the sweat from his brow. No matter how hard he tried, Carl couldn't get the image of Daryl lying on the ground bleeding….dying….out of his mind and it was causing him to unravel. He wanted to someone to make this ok but as he turned in circles the cold truth hit him in the face. He was alone…and he was responsible. If Daryl had a chance it was on him now…him and no one else. Pushing ahead he had no direction as he sprinted deeper into the woods.
The warm summer breeze billowed through his bedroom curtains as a low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Daryl lay back in bed watching the thin material ripple in the dark air. Wincing he rolled off his left side. His ribs ached every time he tried to take a breath. In the mirror he examined the dark purple bruise that had bloomed across his flank and back. At least this one would be easy to hide; his face was another story.
His left eye was nearly swollen shut. Reaching up he fingered his inflamed skin in the darkness. It was summer time. There was no school, no teachers, and no one who had any reason to check on him for the next two months. For a kid like Daryl summer was a scary time. If he made it to the next school year he would be lucky.
The door to his bedroom squeaked as he involuntarily stiffened in the bed. His father wasn't even home and he knew that but he couldn't stop himself from reacting. Grabbing a fistful of bed sheets he stiffened as a figure moved through the darkness. Flinching, he turned his face away as he braced for impact. The person sat down on the bed next to him, as he remained stiff as a board: paralyzed with involuntary fear.
A cool hand rested on his forehead, as he felt thin, delicate fingers inspecting his swollen face in the dark. A ragged, emotional breath preceded a statement that was barely above a whisper.
"I'm so sorry." His mother. A bolt of lightning briefly illuminated the room as he opened his eyes. Turning his head he saw her sitting there on the edge of his bed. The warm air smelled like rain as he watched her long, brown hair shift in the breeze. Her hand gently moved to the side of his face as the coolness of her skin soothed him.
The room flashed to white for a moment as he stared up at her in darkness. She looked like a ghost. Pale and whisper thin, years of life with his father had beaten her down to the very core. Her normally vacant eyes brimmed with sadness as she studied his face.
When Daryl was very young she had been different. She was always quiet, always reticent and thoughtful; choosing her words carefully before speaking or acting. She held him a lot and he remembered pressing his ear against her chest; listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Daryl also remembered her smell. A mixture of baby powder and shampoo, it was always fresh and delicate. And her hands. She used to run them through his hair or up and down across his back without even thinking about it. In his chaotic life she was peace, safety, and love. He craved it; craved her and he didn't even realize it until she wasn't there anymore. It didn't happen all at once but little by little she began to pull away.
It took him a while to notice but eventually he began to feel more on edge and nervous. As a small child these feelings were hard to understand. He knew that the fear in the pit of his stomach had begun to swell and this time she wasn't there to stop it. He longed to feel her cool hands on the back of his neck or hear the sound of her heart beating through her thin shirt. He wanted that security…the peace…but most of all he just wanted to feel loved. But she wasn't there anymore and she was never coming back.
Daryl mother hadn't physically left but she had emotionally checked out. Years of abuse and torture had destroyed her and inevitably she had just shut down. Sometimes she made dinner, sometimes they were on their own. If a ham sandwich was waiting for him in the morning, it was going to be a good day but all too often Daryl was sent off to school with nothing to eat. She stayed locked in the bedroom, shades drawn and smoking cigarettes for days on end. With his father drunk or high on a bender, his mother emotionally unavailable, and Merle away at Juvie Daryl had effectively begun to raise himself. He was only six years old.
As time passed the yearning in his heart lessened and he began to accept the way things were. He missed her everyday but he tried not to think about it. But with her sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at him in the dark a flood of emotions began to rush back. He was angry at her for abandoning him. He was disappointed that she would let her husband-his father- do something like this to him, He was afraid that she would leave for good one day. But most of all he was sad that something he wanted for so long was right there in front of him…and he still couldn't have it.
Releasing the bed sheets Daryl relaxed. Raindrops plinked off the window as a strong wind rattled the glass panes. A flash of lightning illuminated the room as he felt her gentle touch roll back through his short hair. Every ounce of his eight –year- old resolve crumbled as tears spilled over his eyes.
"Mommy…." A sob choked in his throat as the word came out. He had wanted her so bad for so long.
Wordlessly she slid down in bed next to him. Sliding her arm under his thin shoulders she pulled him close to her. He felt her ragged breath against his back as tears slipped down his cheeks. For the last two years he had only wanted one thing- her. And now she was here. The feeling of her arms wrapped around him filled the aching hole in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't stop the raw emotion from pouring out as he shook with sobs. Taking her hand she drew his head back between her cheek and shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the side of his forehead she whispered in his ear.
"I love you Daryl. I love you." The words didn't mean as much as the feeling of her next to him. He had been weathering a life of physical abuse and emotional neglect for the last two years alone. To finally have a sense of safety and love and physical comfort was unbelievable.
Finally relaxing fully, Daryl leaned back and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath he wanted to remember everything about this moment. A rumble of thunder rattled the house as he scooted closer to her in bed. She was so warm and comforting that he thought he could stay that way forever. Her soft hands roamed through his short, brown hair as he took a shaky breath in. She smelled so good and so familiar. Fresh and delicate, she smelled like wet hair and shampoo. Rain plinked against the windowsill as the sweet smell of summer rain wafted through the air. The house was quiet and peaceful. Pulling the blanket over top of them, she pulled him closer.
Looking back on that moment years later, Daryl would realize that it was his best memory from childhood. To want something so bad for so long and to have it come to you when you need it most was an experiences most people never have.
That night he fell asleep in her arms. When he woke the next morning he was alone. Foolish enough to think that something had changed he went looking for her. When he found her, the vacant look was in her eyes as she looked at him blankly. Not bringing himself to say the words he simply stared at her. His eyes, his face, his entire body saying one thing: come back to me. But she didn't and she never would. She would go back to her bedroom and lay there in the dark smoking cigarettes.
The tranquility of his dream slowly began to fade as it was replaced with a deep physical aching. Daryl could hear Sophia whimpering next to him and he desperately want to open his eyes but couldn't. They were just so heavy. His body throbbed in pain as he felt paralyzed. It was mid morning and the sun had risen in the Georgia sky as the back of his eyelids were illuminated with a warm, yellow glow. The warmth and peace and happiness of that memory poured out of him as a sense of darkness and fear began to take its place.
Daryl was sad, he was mad, he was frustrated; he felt so many different things. Despite the abject abuse he endured at the hands of his father; he could never be capable of hurting him as much as she did. She gave him something he wanted so badly only to rip it away; shattering him into so many pieces he could never be put back together.
A week later it happened. He was down the street watching the neighbor kids play on their bikes when everyone starting running. At first he followed them not really sure what was happening. A fire; he could smell it as they got closer. When he turned the corner he realized it was his street they were on. And then he realized it was his house they were watching burn. She died that day and he couldn't even remember crying. Really he didn't have a single tear left for her. She was dead now but she had been gone for a long time.
Before the world went to shit, Sophia had never seen a dead body; not even at the funeral home. All of her grandparents were still alive and therefore her experience with death was somewhat limited. In the last six months, that had all changed. She had seen more dead bodies than she could remember. Despite this sudden desensitization she had quickly learned that she never felt the same way. The feeling of loss when someone you know dies is not a stagnant emotion. It is different every time depending on your feelings toward that person.
The first dead person Sophia saw was their old neighbor back in Atlanta, Mrs. Jennings. After the outbreak hit, her parents packed up the car as fast as they could; desperate to get out of the city. Walkers were beginning to take over their neighborhood as her dad backed the car down the driveway. Sophia's first thought when she saw the woman laying on her front porch was curiosity. Why would someone want to take a nap in such a strange place especially now? Then when she looked again she saw one of those things kneeling over the old woman ripping the flesh right off her bones. She only saw it for a second before Carol covered her eyes. She was afraid and shocked and then when she started to think about it sad. That old woman never hurt anyone; she didn't deserve to die like that. A lonely person who had no children of her own, she had often invited Sophia over to help her eat a peach pie warm from the oven. Mrs. Jennings was a nice lady. That time Sophia was sad.
Sophia saw lots of dead people after that day but she didn't feel anything for any of them until the night their camp was invaded by walkers and her daddy died. Her whole life she had been afraid of him. Since the apocalypse she had become downright terrified. Without laws and cops to enforce them, Ed was free to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. They had been on the road for a while before they met up with Shane and Lori that fateful night on the highway. Those nights while they were on their own had been the worst. They would park somewhere and her parents would leave her in the car to "talk". Trouble was, the only way her daddy knew how to talk was with his fists. Sure, people saw but they had bigger things to worry about. Sophia was relieved when they finally found other people. It meant her daddy would have to keep himself under control…at least a little bit. What it really meant was that he would find other ways to abuse them that were much quieter. She kept her eyes closed but she knew he was making her mama doing things she didn't want to do. She didn't understand it but she knew it was wrong. And that night at the camp when Ed wanted her stay in the tent she was so sure it was her turn. But her mother…she stood up to him and Sophia was spared certain trauma. So when her father died she wasn't sad like Mrs. Jennings. Her father wasn't a nice man. That time Sophia was relieved.
The CDC had been one of the most frightening experiences thus far. The building was just so big and daunting that she couldn't help but feel intimidated. The fact that Jenner locked them in the basement and insisted on poking her arm with a needle didn't help matters. The adults seemed content with staying there but Sophia couldn't shake a feeling of fear. Something wasn't right but no one would listen to her; she was a twelve year old girl. When Jenner informed them that they wouldn't be able to leave and this was it she didn't understand what he was talking about. The fear inside her only built when she saw the way the adults were reacting. She could remember the women screaming and her mom was crying. Rick was yelling at Jenner and Daryl had taken an axe to the metal door. Carol bent down and pulled her close, her strained voice pleaded with Jenner not to let her baby die like this. Sophia was crying full of confusion and hysteria. She didn't even realize that the scientist had opened the door until she felt her mom running. It wasn't until much later that Sophia realized Jackie wasn't there. At first she was sad thinking that the woman had been left behind. Then later she overheard the adults talking. Jackie chose to stay there with that crazy Jenner. She chose to die. Jackie has always been nice to her calling her Miss Sophia. Jackie had been a nice lady and that was why Sophia couldn't understand why she would chose something like that over the group. That time she was angry.
The night they met Lori and Shane on the highway, the Peletiers were heading as far away from Atlanta as possible. They planned to head toward the ocean with hopes that at least one front would be safe. On the way they stopped at an abandoned quarry about ten miles outside the city. It was only meant to be temporary but as more survivors trickled in it became a permanent community. They had only been there about a week when Daryl and his brother stumbled into the camp. The first time Sophia saw them she was afraid. They were rough looking men. Merle did most of the talking early on. Daryl was nervous and shifty, always watching the others. Whenever they came close she hid behind her mother. Then one day Merle went out with the others and he never came back. Sophia was there when Rick told Daryl that his brother was left behind and she was so sure that he was going to kill the man. But he didn't and after that something in Daryl changed. She still kept her distance but began reconsidering her initial judgment. Maybe he wasn't the scary but just misunderstood. When he found her that day in the woods she had never been so relieved in her whole life. Then she remembered it was Daryl who she was with and the old feelings of hesitancy began to creep up. Clutching to that tree branch staring in horror at the faces of the walkers snapping and hissing below them she never expected him to reach out to her. This was the same guy that used to sit back in camp sucking the meat off a squirrel bone as he stared out at the others with a menacing glare. Yes she had been wrong about Daryl. He was horribly misunderstood, and that realization dawned on her as she pressed her face against his warm chest that night in the tree. His strong arms held her close as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Daryl didn't know it but he was the first man who had ever made her feel safe and comforted. He wasn't just a good guy. He was the best. Looking down at him Sophia chewed on her lower lip. This time she was panicked.
Since the start of all this no one's death had higher stakes for her than Daryl's. At the moment he was everything to her and Carl. Their protector, their confidant, their life line, but most importantly he was their friend. Carol, Rick, Lori; they were gone and no one had the faintest clue if they were even still alive. Daryl had become their mother and their father. He was their whole world right now. Sophia drew in a shaky breath as she felt tears running down her face. This wasn't happening. Pacing back and forth she didn't want to look at Daryl but she couldn't help herself. His face was sickly white as she watched his eyes moved back and forth under the lids. His hand was shaking as he tried to pick it up off the ground. Every time he breathed the hole in his chest made a sick sucking sound. Sweat beaded up over his forehead as he began to turn an ashen color. Sophia was trembling in fear as she knelt down next to his left side. His blood soaked shirt clung to his body as she cried uncontrollably. Shaking him lightly she whimpered his name.
"Daryl….pleassseee…pleasssee…. you gotta wake up."
He twitched but didn't open his eyes. Sophia was desperate to feel some kind of familiarity. Curling up next to Daryl's left side she rested her ear against the side of his chest. The wetness of his shirt soaked the side of her face with sticky sensation as she closed her eyes. His heart was still beating. She wished that he could put his arm around her right now and tell her that everything was going to be ok. But he didn't…he couldn't. Shooting a glance at his face she watched as his eyes fluttered but didn't open. He was lost somewhere inside himself; a place so deep and dark he couldn't find his way back. Tucking her head back against his chest, Sophia listened to the frantic beating of his heart and prayed that Carl would come through.
A thick layer of early morning fog was beginning to burn off as thin rays of light poked through the treetops. The earthy smell of wet leaves and dirt permeated the air as the sweet cacophony of the natural world was all around. A woman leaned back against the tree as she stared straight ahead. She had been a pretty girl. Not movie star gorgeous but attractive in a real world sort of way. Her long brown hair was in a mess behind her and her sharp, blue eyes were vacant and hollow. A deep scar ran down the right side of her face. It had probably required stitches or maybe even a plastic surgeon but in this new, unforgiving world glue was the next best thing. If she could find a mirror and actually gave two shits she wouldn't be able to recognize herself. Not that it mattered much anyway.
Sitting back onto the ground the back of her cotton pants became saturated with the dewfall. Reaching around she pulled out a gun. Running her fingers back and forth over the cool metal barrel she slid the clip out. Three bullets. Smiling wryly she shook her head. The Ruger .22 had been a birthday present from her father a couple of years back. At first she couldn't shoot worth a damn but eventually her aim got better and she became a real marksman. She loved going to the range and it wasn't uncommon for her to blow one or two hundred rounds at a time. Now she was down to three. Sliding the clip back in she clicked the safety off. Resting her finger on the trigger she stared down at the gun.
Before the world went to shit she had often wondered about the day she would die. It was morbid but as a paramedic she couldn't help but think about it. She had been there at that moment…that final moment when we leave this world and enter the next for so many people. And she always wondered if they knew. Did they know when they woke up that morning that it would be their last day on earth? They probably didn't but she wondered if they could feel something? Was something different? When it was her turn would she feel it coming or would it sneak up on her? She often wondered what day she would die. Was it March 25 or June 19; February 1 or maybe September 10? Looking up at the sky this day was just beginning. She had lost track of time a while ago and could only guess that it was sometime in late September.
Everything and everyone she ever loved or cared about in this world was gone. She had never felt so hollow or alone. She didn't know that it was even possible to feel like this. Turning the gun so that she was looking down the barrel her vacant, emotionless eyes stared straight ahead. The thought of suicide once repulsed her but now it seemed like the only option. It was the ultimate selfish act that left a wake of heartbreak in those left behind. But was it so bad when there was no one to leave behind? When there was no one left to care did it really make a difference? Holding the barrel of the gun up to her eye she looked at the familiar striations on the inside of the barrel. Pulling back again she cocked the gun. In her ten years as a paramedic she had seen several people shoot themselves in the head. Some did it right; others weren't so lucky. The last thing she wanted was to be alive when this was all over. Worse yet was alive but unable to put herself out of her own misery. Just laying there as walker bait waiting for some freak to rip the flesh right off her bones. No she was going to do this right the first time. Bending her arm she pressed the cool metal barrel through her tangled hair at the base of her skull.
Somewhere behind her she heard a rustling in the bushes. Walkers no doubt; she couldn't even muster a flicker of concern. What did it matter now? Then there were rhythmic heavy footfalls. A person. She hadn't seen anyone in weeks. Her concentration broke as Carl burst out of the bushes tripping on an overgrown root. At first he didn't see her there as his face was contorted with sheer panic. The women looked at him although still not lowering the barrel of the gun as it was trained against the back of her head. A kid. Her cold stare perused his body finally coming to land on his face. Someone had been taking care of him. He was well nourished and appeared developmentally appropriate for his age. His clothes were dirty but intact and correct for the current weather. Their eyes met as he pushed himself up off the ground. His face was red and swollen from crying as she saw his lip quiver.
"You gotta help me!" He didn't seem to notice or mind the firearm she had pressed against the back of her head. Lowering the gun she stared at him her face devoid of any emotion. She didn't feel a single thing as she looked at him. Not sympathy, or sadness, urgency, or fear. She felt nothing. "My friend! He's been shot…Please!"
She didn't want to help him. She wanted to finish what she came out here to do. Slipping the gun back into her waistband she pushed herself up from the ground. Carl was beginning to back up suddenly unsure of this mysterious stranger. She still hadn't said a word to him. Bending over she grabbed her backpack. What did it matter if someone else in this world died? Everyone she knew was dead. Why should this kid be any luckier? Turning she started to walk away.
"You aren't gonna help me!?" Carl was unraveling. She was his best and probably only chance to save Daryl's life. There was no way he was going to find anyone else before it was too late. She didn't care how much he screamed; it wouldn't make her feel any different.
'We don't decide who lives and who dies but we can give them a chance.' She stopped cold. In her old life as a paramedic she had been lucky to have the same partner for the last eight years. He wasn't a good guy; he was the best. As she walked away from Carl she saw heard his voice clear as day; like he had just been right there next to her. 'We don't decide who lives and who dies but we can give them a chance.' And for the first time in a while she felt something.
Turning slowly she met Carl's eyes again. For all she knew his friend could already be dead. But if he wasn't she had the knowledge and the skill to give him a chance. That was all she could do. And after that she would finish what she started today.
"Ok. Take me to him." Carl's face was a mixture of shock and disbelief. First that he had heard her voice and second that she actually agreed to help him. She could be a dangerous person for all he knew. Hesitating for a moment Carl turned and began running back toward where he left Daryl. It didn't matter what she what kind of person she was because he had no other options.
Daryl could feel the life slowly seeping out of him. He couldn't open his eyes but he knew that Sophia was there next to him. He could feel her pressed against his chest whimpering. Daryl wanted so badly to pick his arm up and hold her close to him. He wanted to open his eyes and tell her not to cry. That he was ok. That she didn't need to be afraid anymore. But he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried; he just couldn't. A deep physical and emotional aching filled his body as he struggled to take a breath in. The orange glow behind his eyelids faded as a deep blackness took their place.
The room was dark as Daryl pulled the old, musty blanket up over his head. A crash echoed from the other side of the thin wall as he jumped. He and his daddy had been living a cheap motel for about a month now. Their house had been condemned after the fire and if Daryl thought his life was hard before he quickly found that he was sorely mistaken. With his mama gone that meant his daddy had one less person to beat up on. At first it wasn't too bad; he actually seemed sad that she was gone. It didn't last long, though, and before he knew it Daryl was getting it everyway but sideways. His body ached as he pulled himself into a ball. He was alone. His daddy was out drinking somewhere. A few hours time and he'd be back ready to take out his anger. Daryl cringed as he bit down hard on his bottom lip.
For the first time in his life he wondered if he would survive. He wondered if he would make it to adulthood or if this would be it for him. Eight horrifying years full of abuse and neglect, abandonment and hate; that would be his life. Beginning to end his existence was absolutely meaningless. Was this it for him? Would he die here in this motel room? Alone and bled out on the bathroom floor while his daddy slept it off only five feet away. And for the first time in his life he didn't really care. If he lived he would only be tortured if he died it would be over. In that moment he didn't have any fear of death. If that was the only way this pain and torture would end it didn't sound too bad.
A loud thump on the other side of the wall and some more yelling as Daryl pinched his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about her but he couldn't help himself. After she died he refused to shed a tear. She had hurt him so bad he couldn't forgive her. But as time wore on his anger began to fade as it was replaced with a familiar sense of wanting. No matter how much she hurt him or how bad she made him feel he could never stop wanting her. She was a messed up idea of love but it was the only thing he had.
Tears came to Daryl's eyes as leaned over the side of the bed. Pulling a bottle of shampoo out from underneath he unscrewed the cap. Taking in a deep breath he closed his eyes. In the brain our sense of smell is situated next to the area that stores memories. That's why when we smell something we are often thrown back into an involuntary memory. Daryl didn't know anything about that but what he did know was that as soon as he smelled that shampoo it was like he was back in that moment. And she was there, her clean, wet hair cascading over her thin shoulders. Her arms wrapped tightly around him and if he concentrated he could almost feel her cool, calming hands against his forehead. He could hear the rain tapping against the window and see the flash of white lightning streak across the inky sky. And if he was really quiet he thought he could hear her breathy voice in his ear. "I love you Daryl. I love you." Opening his eyes, Daryl peered around the empty motel room. He was alone.
The memory faded as Daryl could hear a hiss and moan. Walkers. That was the only thing that could make a noise like that. With every ounce of strength he willed himself to wake up. On his left side he felt Sophia pull away as he heard her strangled cries. He couldn't let this happen.
Sophia could hear them coming for a while now but hoped that they would just go away. The hissing and moaning, dragging feet across the forest floor; she knew that only one thing made a sound like that. Tucked against Daryl's left side she closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle. When that miracle didn't come and the freaks were almost on top of her she pulled back. After shooting Shane she threw Daryl's gun aside in a flurry of panic. Now she had to find it again. Thankfully Shane's lifeless body, a few feet away, momentarily distracted them.
Sophia's vision was clouding as she tore through the bushes. Behind her Daryl stirred slightly still unable to move. He had stopped bleeding but was still making a horrible sucking sound as she tried to hurry. Looking over her shoulder Sophia saw one of the walkers get up and begin shuffling toward Daryl. Crying hysterically she abandoned her efforts to find the gun and threw herself on top of him.
"Oh my God! Please no!" Daryl felt a surge of pain rush through his body when he felt her land on top of his chest. It quickly faded however when he realized what she was doing. He couldn't let her do this; she was just a little girl. Besides that, it was his job to protect her not the other way around. He could hear the walker getting closer and he was almost sure that this was it. He was going to die; if the hole in his chest didn't do it, the freak would. Using every ounce of strength he had left he used his left hand to roll them both over so that she was lying underneath him now. Bringing his left arm back around he squeezed her tightly to his chest. This was it.
He took a deep breath and waited for the sharp pain of the walker's teeth in his back. Before it happened a gunshot rang out as he felt a weight collapse onto his back. What little air he had left in his lungs whooshed out as he moaned in pain. Another gunshot and the hissing stopped.
The woman stood there looking down the barrel of her outstretched gun. She dropped both walkers with little effort as she released the clip. One bullet. That was all she had left now. Just one. The boy next to her was practically trembling with fear as she shoved the gun back into her pants. Walking ahead her black boots sunk into the soft earth. Her eyes first went to Shane lying sprawled out on the ground. For a moment she thought that maybe that was who she was there for but one look at him told her it was too late. Standing over Daryl she grabbed the walker's body and threw it aside. Dropping her pack on the ground he squatted down next to him. His shirt was soaked with blood as his skin was pale and clammy. Carefully taking him by the shoulder she rolled him back over onto his back. Her surprise was evident when Sophia scrambled out from underneath him. Her gaze momentarily flickered to the little girl. She looked unharmed. Returned her attention back to Daryl she placed two fingers against the side of his neck. He was still alive.
Somewhere behind her she could hear Carl and Sophia begging her to help him. She didn't acknowledge them as she began to mentally click through what she had to do. Ripping Daryl's shirt open she saw a single gunshot wound that marred his otherwise strong chest. Opening her pack she pulled out a stethoscope. Pressing it against his bloodied chest she closed her eyes as she struggled to listen. Sophia was crying hysterically as Carl tried his best to calm her down. She wanted to turn around and tell them to shut the fuck up but really what would that do? So she concentrated on the task at hand.
The moment she ripped Daryl's shirt open and saw that hole in his chest she knew that this was going to be bad. She also knew that his lung was probably collapsed. Taking long needle out of her bag she ran her fingers down his chest counting the ribs. When she got to the right place she didn't hesitate to shove the long piece of metal right into his chest.
"What the hell are you doing?" Carl stepped up to her as she looked up at him blankly.
"You want me to save him? Then sit down and shut up." She didn't even acknowledge a reply as she turned back to Daryl. Taking a rubber glove out of her pack she ripped the finger off as she pulled the needle out of his chest leaving a plastic catheter behind. A whoosh of air escaped from the catheter as Daryl felt his lungs fill with air.
Carl was torn between letting the mysterious woman do what she wanted and protecting Daryl from what he perceived to be more injury. He didn't protect Daryl from Shane and look what happened. Hesitantly he raised his gun and leveled it at her head. She was busy securing a stack of gauze against his chest. At first Carl thought that she didn't see him but then he realized she just didn't care. Turning toward the barrel of his outstretched gun she shrugged her shoulders.
"Go ahead. You'll save me the bullet." She looked like a ghost. Her blue eyes were emotionless, as she seemed to be staring right through him. The way she was looking at him rattled Carl as he slowly lowered the gun. He looked at her for a moment before walking away. Turning back to Daryl she saw his eyelids twitch and slowly open.
The bright midday sunlight shone through the treetops as he squinted into the white light. Focusing, he saw someone kneeling over him. A woman. Her long, brown hair fell over her shoulder, as her face was backlit by the intense sunlight. She ran her hand over his forehead wiping the sweat away. It was cool and comforting just like his mother's. Blinking his eyes he struggled to focus on her face. She looked like her. Opening his mouth his voice came out strangled and hesitant. "Ma..?"
The woman looked down at him. At least his eyes were open now, although he didn't seem to understand what he was looking at. She was busy securing another stack of gauze against his back when she heard his voice. Coming back to his face she studied his expression for a moment. Pain and fear…but there was something else. Hope, trust maybe… she didn't know. Reaching down she placed her hand against his cheek. Leaning into his ear she whispered to him, "You're going to be ok."
Daryl's eyes drifted close as she watched him exhale. He trusted her. He didn't even know her but he trusted her on some level. Any thought she had of walking away faded as the first human connection she made in a month caused a sliver of her old self to come alive again. He trusted her and now she was obligated to honor that trust.
Standing up she looked down at him. He wasn't going to die right there but he was still in bad shape. In front of her, Carl and Sophia's pleading eyes urged her to keep going.
"He needs real medical care. More than I can do right here." Carl looked at her confused.
"We'll do anything. Just please help him." Biting the inside of her cheek she looked at him with a doubtful expression.
"Ok." Taking her pack off she threw it at Carl. "You carry that." Bending over she grabbed Daryl under the arms. Much to her surprise he made an effort to support his own weight. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist she grabbed him by the belt. Looking up at him she saw his eyes staring back at her. His face was pale as he swayed back and forth against her.
When he spoke his voice was thick and raspy. "Please…I'll do anything I just have…."
She cut him off before he could finish, not wanting to hear his pleading tone. Looking at him seriously she spoke slowly. "All I can do is give you a chance."
Daryl looked into her eyes as he exhaled in pain. "That's all I need."
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Don't panic I'm not introduced an OC, just making things interesting for a while.