Hi there, everybody! Well we have reached the point where I am out of pre-written chapters, so the next update may take a day or two depending on how much time I have. Reviews make me find the time faster.
I want to thank those of you who have followed this story, or added it to their favorites, and I can only hope you all continue to enjoy it. Thanks! I also really have to thank my two guest reviewers.
First off, Guest, I'm so glad you like my writing style. I have had people tell my that I am too detailed in the past, so I'm glad you enjoy that I make things fairly in depth. I'm also really happy that you thought I handled the beginning of the Apocalypse well. I think it would have been fun to get into it further, but I didn't want to spend too many chapters in the past. Maybe I'll do some one shots that can accompany this story or something. Thanks again for the wonderful review! You really make me smile!
Ashley: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like how I started this story off, and I hope I continue to hold your interest. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
So, on with the show, as they say!
Chapter Three – Leave My Body
I'm gonna be released from behind these lines, And I don't care whether I live or die, And I'm losing blood, I'm gonna leave my bones, And I don't want your heart it leaves me cold
I don't want your future, I don't need your past, One bright moment, Is all I ask
I'm gonna leave my body (moving up to higher ground) I'm gonna lose my mind (History keeps pulling me down) Said I'm gonna leave my body (moving up to higher ground) I'm gonna lose my mind
(History keeps pulling me, pulling me down)
- Florence + The Machine
Daryl had been with the group of bikeless bikers for about a week now. Enough time to know that he better not get comfortable around them, and enough time to figure out that the man they were following was Rick. Based on the tracks he had seen it seemed like he had Michonne and Carl with him too. There was a big part of him that wanted to feel hopeful at that discovery, but he knew these guys were out for blood, and he wasn't sure who would come out on top in a conflict like that.
He had thought about lighting out on his own to try to catch his group, but it seemed like Joe had read his mind and since he had had the thought he hadn't been left alone for more than a minute. It was starting to wear him thin, and he didn't like that feeling one bit. Joe had been walking beside him for the last hour or so, both of them silent, and Daryl brooding. Finally be broke the not quite amicable silence, "So what ya gonna do to that guy when you catch up to him."
Joe laughed a little and spit on the railroad tracks at his feet. "Well, I think you already know that. I'm gonna do to him what he done to our man. Kill him and leave him to turn on his own people." He paused and raised his hand to his eye. "An eye for an eye, you know." Daryl just nodded and chewed at the stick in his mouth a little more furiously. "You don't have a problem with that now do ya, son?" Joe asked curiously.
Daryl wanted to give the man a piece of his mind, but just shrugged instead. He wasn't about to tell this prick that he would shoot him before he let something like that happen to Rick, that wouldn't help nobody. Just then the big bald guy – was his name Billy or Bobby, Daryl couldn't remember and didn't really care – came running back up the tracks towards them.
"We spotted 'em, they're just over the hill. Fightin' a couple freaks it looks like."
The bald guy looked serious, but Joe's face split into a grin. "Hot damn. We finally caught 'em. 'Bout time." His voice was laced with some kind of sick joy that made Daryl feel like his skin was crawlin', but if any of the other guys noticed they didn't show it. "It's show time boys! Let's teach 'em a lesson!"
With that the group headed down the tracks at a swift jog, and Daryl stayed with them. He knew he needed to come up with some sort of plan, and fast. Nothing was coming to mind though, and before he knew it they were over the small rise and barreling strait at his group. He instantly noted that it was in fact Rick, Carl and Michonne, and they had dispatched the walkers the bald guy had said they were fighting.
They were about 50 feet away when Michonne heard them coming, and spun around to face whatever threat was coming toward her, her Katina drawn at the ready. He saw a flicker of recognition on her face when she saw him, but then his attention shifted to the men in front of him raising their guns. It was time to act, and there weren't no time left to come up with a plan. So he did what any sane man would do, or at least what any sane man with the last name Dixon would do, he raised his crossbow and fired a bolt into the head of the man that had his gun trained on Carl, and shouted at the top of his lungs. "Run! Get out a' here, Rick!"
Then there was an explosion of gunfire, and he knew it was coming from both sides of the confrontation. He flew forward and pulled his bolt out of the now dead man's head and fought to reload his bow, but before he could even start to load the arrow he felt a boot connect with his head and he flew to the side. He was able to see his friends running to the trees, bullets raining down on them and Rick and Carl returning fire as much as they could. He saw Michonne drop to her knees, a stain of crimson already blossoming on her right side, but she managed to get her feet back under her, and then Rick had his arm around her and they disappeared into the underbrush.
He knew his friends didn't have much of a chance of escaping Joe and his men, but Daryl felt good that he had at least given them a little bit of one. Not like with Beth, he hadn't even kept looking for her, he'd fucked that one up real good, and there weren't nothing he could do about it.
He could feel blood running down the side of his face from where he'd been kicked, but he ignored it and struggled onto his hands and knees. He knew he needed to make a run for it too if he was ever going to make it away from Joe's wrath, but he didn't even get one foot under him when another boot swung out and kicked him hard in the gut. He collapsed back onto the ground, choking on bile and the instant lack of air in his lungs. He'd been kicked harder before, and he knew it, but every time it happened it always felt like it was the worst. He pushed past it and forced himself to rise up onto his feet, no one trying to stop him.
Joe was standing in front of him, a strange combination of rage and amusement painted on his face. "You sure are one dumb son of a bitch." He shook his head sadly, and looked down at the ground for a second before returning his eyes to Daryl's, all traces of amusement gone from his face. "Now why would you go and do somethin' like shootin' Bobby in the back a' the head?"
Daryl glared at Joe, and glanced at the remaining three men all with their guns trained on him. "They're ma friends." He snarled in reply.
Joe let his face fill with mock hurt, and clutched his chest as if he were having a heart attack. "I thought we were your friends. You hurt me Daryl."
Daryl bared his teeth in a combination of a snarl and a sneer, then spit at the man's feet. "Naw, yer just some pieces a' shit I tagged along with 'til I could find someone better."
He saw Joe's face go red, and then felt a fist connect with the side of his face and he was airborne. He hit the ground an instant later and tumbled down the embankment into the forest at the bottom. He came to a stop with a crash as his right hip slammed against a stout tree. He was pretty sure he felt something crack in his hip on impact, but he still tried to rise to his feet. As soon as he put his right knee under him he fell back to the ground, the pain shooting through him too much to bear in that moment.
He could hear the guys scrambling down the hill after him and tried again to rise, but had the same end result. By that point Joe and his men had reached him, and Daryl knew the game had come to an end; he was almost relieved by it. Someone kicked him in the gut, and then it felt like more feet than should have been attached to four men started raining down on him. One hit him in the ribs, and this time he knew he felt bones breaking. He had his arms wrapped protectively around his head, but that wasn't stopping the guys from trying to kick it in, and his arms were taking one hell of a beating. One of the boots slipped past his arms and nailed him in the forehead, making the already fading world almost go black.
The only sounds Daryl could hear were the grunts and little cries that the men were making while they were intent on kicking him to death. It took him a moment to realize that they weren't the ones crying out; he was. He tried his damnedest to stifle the sounds, not wanting to reward those guys with his pain, but every time a foot would hit his screaming flesh an agonized sound would escape past his tightly pressed lips.
Time seemed to stop and all that existed were the blows raining down on his battered body and the racing thoughts in his mind. In a way he was thankful this was happening to him, because he knew it was giving his friends a better chance to escape. If he could stay alive long enough and keep these sons a' bitches beating him, then Rick and Carl and Michonne just might get far enough away to make it. Now they knew these bastards were after 'em, so they could be more careful, and they could get away. Yeah, that was what he was doing right now, he was saving his friends. If only he could have saved Beth too. Could have maybe told Rick that she was somewhere out there, so someone would be lookin' for 'er. If he had been able to he would have kicked himself right about then for letting that girl go. Of course he hadn't exactly let her go, but that wasn't how he felt about it. He should have kept lookin', he shouldn't a' stuck with these guys, especially after what they done to Len, but hindsight was 20/20 he figured.
He could feel consciousness slipping away from him, and he fought hard to keep it. He swung his battered arm out and grabbed one of the boots on its upward swing. He knew he threw the fucker off balance, but it wasn't enough because he didn't hit the ground. He swatted at a couple of legs helplessly, but it didn't slow no one down any, so he pulled his arm back around his head.
Suddenly the near silence was broken, a sinister and oddly feminine voice breaking through, "Enough!" All of the kicking feet halted, and Daryl wondered why Joe sounded so girly, and why he had stopped the beating. He weren't dead yet, and he had seen in Joe's eyes that he meant to kill him. He felt and heard a soft thud next to his head, and pried one of his eyes open to see what had happened. All he could see was feet, but he could swear the boots directly in front of his face didn't belong to none of the guys he was with.
"Joe, Joe, Joe… didn't I make it clear that I didn't want you on my turf the last time you came through here?" that strange voice spoke. Daryl tried to turn his head to see who it was, but wasn't able to move far enough to see past the person's knees and gave up, closing his eyes for a second.
Joe spoke up at that, "I didn't know we were on your turf, Wolf. We were chasin' a man that done us wrong and I guess we stumbled in."
"This your man?" that voice said, a lot of steel mixed with a little bit of curiosity in the tone.
Daryl opened his eye again, noting that only one of them was working at this point, and forced himself up onto an elbow in spite of the fact that he saw stars the moment he tried to move. He looked up at Joe and saw that the guy was practically shaking in his boots. He shifted his eyes to the person that could make what had seemed like a pretty unflappable man shake in his boots, and was surprised to see that it was a woman. A small woman at that, probably shorter and lighter that Beth even, by his estimation. She had long, dark hair that was hanging down her back in a tight braid, and he could see she was fingering a knife, but he couldn't see her face.
Finally Joe responded after a short sigh, "No. This guy betrayed us. Tried to stop us from getting our guy."
He could hear the cold smile in the woman's voice, even though he couldn't see it. "I see… So you thought you would bring this man on to my turf and beat him to death?"
"We didn't know it was your turf!" Joe hastily exclaimed.
The woman laughed darkly. "Mmhmm. I guess you should have been paying more attention to my markers, and less attention to some grudge. Now get the hell off my turf!" Daryl felt hands grab him under his arms and tried to shake them off, but it was pointless. "What do you think you're doing?" The woman asked quietly.
"We're takin' him with us. We ain't done with him yet." Joe said, his voice a little more calm, but still obviously shaken.
"No." The woman said flatly. "He's staying here. I claim him." Daryl could hear the sneer in her voice at the word 'claim', and he couldn't help but feel the same way about it. It was a damn stupid rule and he knew it. Rick hadn't needed nothin' like that to keep things from going Darwin every two hours. Only a weak man needed shit like that.
"We ain't leavin' without him, Wolf." Joe said coldly.
"Really?" she asked with an equally cold tone. "Would you rather I sent you off the same way I did you predecessor?"
Daryl saw Joe bristle at that, and his tone carried that displeasure when he spoke. "Dave wasn't the same caliber of man I am. I won't give you the same opportunity he did."
The woman laughed again, this time as if she really found Joe's words to be funny, and then faster than Daryl could see, she struck. When his brain caught up with her movements he saw that she had her knife at Joe's groin, the denim having disintegrated under the blade. "You're absolutely right, Joe. You aren't the caliber of man that Dave was. He was smarter than you, and that's saying something." She paused and Daryl felt the arms around him tighten slightly, making him moan. "The choice is yours, Joe. Would you like to walk out of here short a half dead man, or your nuts?" She wiggled the blade slightly to illustrate her intent.
Joe's voice had risen several octaves when he spoke, "Let him go Tony, we're leaving." Daryl felt the arms around him disappear, and he abruptly hit the ground. He stopped the scream that wanted to come out of him as he hit the hard ground, but a groan made it out anyway.
"Good decision. Now tell your men to get back up on the tracks, and when I see them leave my turf I'll let you go."
Daryl's eyes were closed and his head was spinning something awful, but he was still able to hear three sets of feet leaving the area, and he would have smiled if it weren't that his face hurt too much to make it happen.
There was a moment of silence and then Daryl heard Joe yelp. "What the hell you do that for woman? They were leavin' like you said!"
Yet again the woman laughed, and while there was humor to it, it also held a cold edge. "It'll heal just fine. I just wanted to help you remember not to set foot on my turf again. Maybe you'll be more aware of my markers next time."
Daryl heard retreating footsteps, and then Joe's voice rang through the trees, "This ain't over bitch!"
"I'm counting on it you piece of shit." The woman whispered.
A moment later Daryl felt cool, dry hands on his face, and tried to jerk away from them. He didn't know who this woman was, and he didn't feel any safer in her company than he had while he was getting his ass kicked into the ground by Joe and his boys. Not to mention the fact that without him as a distraction Joe and his boys would most likely just take off after Rick again, and he wasn't sure they had a good enough head start.
"Easy. I'm not going to hurt you." Daryl's eye jerked open to look into her face, and was surprised to see that there wasn't anything even slightly frightening about her. She had a rather pretty face he thought, at least so far as he could tell with one blurry eye. High cheekbones, full lips, and the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen. The best part 'bout those big brown eyes was that they were filled with kindness. A' course he knew that didn't mean shit in this world; some a' the nastiest fuckers he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting could make their eyes look kind. It was one hell of a way to get people to trust you, so you could hurt 'em worse later on.
He tried to stare deep into those orbs, so he could see if she was that kinda person, but he was just too damn tired to see much. It didn't matter anyway, he wasn't gonna stick around to see what kind a' person she was. He had to get after Rick, and make sure he didn't get found.
"I gotta go." he said, or at least that was what he meant to say. All that had really come out was a moan and a puddle of blood. And then his eye forced itself closed and the unconsciousness he had fought so hard to keep at bay took him.
"Shit." Emma said softly as she reached out and lightly placed her fingers along the man's pulse point checking to make sure he was simply passed out, and not dead. When she found a steady rhythm under her fingers she sat back on her heals and released a shaky breath. It had been a tense few minutes, and now that her adrenaline was ebbing she could feel the exhaustion setting in.
She had seen a small group of people out on the tracks at the edge of her territory not very long ago, and when they had been ambushed by a group of those things she had almost left her area to help them. Almost. She didn't make a habit of helping people, and she didn't want to start. She had learned the hard way that people were far more dangerous than those things that tried to eat you. She had remained in the area and watched them as they dispatched the small pack anyway, curious to see how they fared. Then just as the last of those things hit the ground she had seen Joe's group come barreling down the hill towards them. At first she had thought maybe they were going to help the smaller group, but it became apparent almost instantly that that wasn't the case.
Her first tip off had been the bolt fired out of a crossbow at the back of one of Joe's men's heads. That had been followed by implicit instructions for the little group to run, but that probably hadn't been necessary due to the fact that Joe and his buddies started raining bullets down on the three people she had been watching. The little gunfight hadn't lasted long before the trio had booked it into her turf, and she had been about to pursue them to make sure they got the hell off her land, but before she got a chance she saw Joe kick the man that had shot his other man.
For some unknown reason that action pinned her to her spot in the large oak, and she watched as the man struggled to his feet. They were a fair distance away from her, and she couldn't hear what they were saying, but she was able to tell that Joe was livid. After a short discussion Joe had punched the man hard in the face and he had tumbled down the hill, only to crash into the very tree she was hiding in. When she looked down at the man that was sprawled on the ground beneath her, her body froze and her mind went into overdrive, sending her back ten years.
Emma had never been this high in her life, but that didn't stop the fear building in her body as the man dragged her down the hallway. She knew she shouldn't really be afraid, it seemed silly since she had already made trips like this at least a hundred times in her 16 years of life. If anything she should have been feeling relieved; at least this guy didn't seem the type to smack her around a bit before spreading her legs. Not like his brother, that guy scared the crap out of her, and she was dreading the point when it would be his turn.
When the door slammed behind her she looked up and saw nothing but rage in the man's eyes, and began to wonder if maybe she was wrong. Maybe he was about to knock the snot out of her after all, so she started to back away from him unconsciously. She watched as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, and she found her feet retreating from him even faster. She honestly didn't know what was wrong with her. She should just lay down on the bed like a good little girl, but for some reason she just couldn't.
"Ain't what ya think." The man said softly as he encroached on her space with his shirt held out in front of him. "Naw, don' act like that. Here." He forced the shirt into her hands and retreated back a step. She felt her heart hammering and her mind was spinning like a top. What the hell was goin' on? Did he want her to wash his clothes or somethin'? She didn't know what to do so she just looked up at him dumbly, her brown eyes wide and fearful.
Emma had been suddenly jerked back to reality by the inhuman cries of pain coming from beneath her and when she looked down she felt her breakfast trying to rise up in her throat. Joe's men were viciously kicking the man that had saved her from the horrors of her life all those years before, and if she didn't stop them he would most likely be dead in a few minutes.
It had taken her a second to get her racing heart under control, and pull her knife, but then she had sternly called out to them to stop as she dropped from her branch in the tree. The confrontation that had followed had been short, but intense. She knew that this far from her camp she didn't really stand a chance against the group, but she had hoped they wouldn't see the fear behind her eyes. She knew she was lucky that they had left, and that she had probably pushed things too far by cutting Joe the way she had, but at the time it had made sense. And now, as a reward for her efforts, she was stuck with a severely beaten, and very unconscious man.
It was just over a quarter mile to her nearest camp, and the thought of dragging him that far was not one she liked very much. Not to mention the fact that she had no idea how to get him up into the tree house once she got him there. But she knew she didn't really have any other options, since those idiots had shot off all their guns and attracted ever biter in the area.
She rocked forward on the balls of her feet, and tried to assess the damage that had been done so she could avoid hurting him further. She started at his head, running her deft fingers through his hair and noting at least two small tears in his skin. Then she looked at his face more closely and saw that one of his eyes was completely swollen shut and the other wasn't far behind. His left cheek was also swollen and bruised, and his lip was split. Overall his face and head hadn't faired very well, but she didn't see anything life threatening at least.
As she worked her way down his body she heard him moan when she touched his ribs, but he didn't wake and she moved on. She had already been sure he would have broken ribs and his discomfort only proved the point. When she reached his hip he actually cried out and his eye flashed open for an instant before he passed out again. Of all his injuries that was the most troubling to her. It was obviously dislocated, and she would have to get him back to camp in order to get the traction needed to put it back in place. It was also possible that it was broken as well, and that could be a death sentence now that there wasn't a hospital to go get a hip replacement done. She could only hope it was simply dislocated and bruised, not broken.
The rest of his body hadn't sustained massive damage, his arms having been badly bruised but not broken, and both of his legs from the hips down seeming to be OK. So she moved up to his head and wrapped her arms around his chest and lifted him as high as she could. She was surprised by just how heavy he was. She remembered that he had been a fairly large man all those years ago, but she would have sworn that a tank couldn't weigh as much as he did now. All of the muscle from years of fighting for survival having turned to dead weight due to unconsciousness.
She took a deep breath and started dragging him backwards through the woods. It would be a long quarter mile, but she could do it. She had to do it. She had to give him a chance, just like he had given her one so long ago.
Thanks for reading!