Chapter 6:
There was darkness all around her and outside the limbs of the dead kept pounding against the door. She had fought as many of them off as she could manage and had then squeezed herself through an opening inside the large abandoned hall, trying to stop the walkers from doing the same. It hadn't worked at first and a couple had followed her inside so she had barricaded herself inside the office, seeking safety under the large desk.
She hadn't moved an inch since then and the noises of the walkers hadn't subsided. They knew she was still in there, seemed determined to hold her cornered. She'd lost all feeling of time, was solely trapped in this world of darkness, banging limbs and snarling growls. The distant sound of rain added its own beat to the discord.
She didn't dare to move, not even to stretch her back to ease the agonising cramp that seemed to hold her shoulder-blade firmly lodged in place. Her chest frantically expanded against her drawn-up knees as if she had only just stopped running and liquid pain seemed to be flowing through her veins.
Carol regretted now that she hadn't even tried a handful of pecans which Daryl had offered to her the previous night because her stomach felt hollow and bare; a gaping hole in the middle of her body.
She'd never envisioned herself dying like this although the images had always changed. A lifetime ago when she'd still been with Ed, she'd often seen herself choked by his hands. This image had usually come as nothing more than a snapshot, a flash-like premonition whenever he'd been on a rampage again.
Or sometimes, when she'd lain awake at night she had pictured herself heroically protecting her daughter, confessing her love for her before she faded away.
Then, when the world had turned on its head, she'd dreamed about the camp being overrun. She'd thought about Sophia towering over her before sinking her teeth into her skin.
And then she'd thought about suicide.
But even when her worst fear had come true, her world had somehow kept turning. Until the virus…until the governor had brought it all to a grinding halt again. Then her dreams consisted of blood and burned flesh, of invisible threats concealed behind a false image of humanity. She'd seen herself choking again, on blood this time, or pierced by bullets.
She'd been afraid then. Afraid to see the disappointment in her daughter's eyes if they were to be reunited, afraid to witness more deaths of the people she called her family now.
What she'd never expected, however, was to burn but remain alive nonetheless. Or to be cornered by a horde of walkers who'd consume whatever was left of her. Now she wouldn't be selfless or heroic, terrified or protective. She'd only be the shell of a woman who was completely lost, reeking of murder and regret.
Perhaps it was better to go this way, after all. Every piece of skin devoured, every bone crunched so that nothing would be left behind to betray her actions. Nothing that would let the people she loved, that would allow Daryl to see who she had become.
A flash of blonde hair, a light giggle.
Are we playing hide and seek? I'm the best.
A lean but taller figure. Different eyes, a familiar smirk.
No, Mika is the best. I've made sure she's hidden. Can you find her?
Not now.
Carol squeezed her eyes shut and reminded herself that she needed to think. She'd made a promise to Daryl and she wouldn't give up until she'd provided him with a fighting chance.
Finally, pushing herself away from under the table, she ignored the pain that instantly hit her body and began assessing the way out. There had to be something she could use to her advantage.
Daryl's shoulder harshly collided with the board that had once been a safety measure but now blocked his only way out. His body shook from the impact but he simply brushed over the sore area as if the gesture would be enough to wipe the pain away.
He didn't have any time left to dawdle or feel sorry for himself. This time he wasn't stuck in some muddy ditch or needed his big brother's encouragement. This time he kept fighting of his own accord.
Backing away again, he placed a hand over his broken rib and then charged at the board once more, this time kicking it with as much force as he could muster. The fresh pain that continued to well up through his torso was almost unbearable but his efforts had been worth it; the entrance was no longer barred.
Daryl allowed himself to savour the brief moment of triumph and then picked up the items he had gathered around him. Two water bottles were haphazardly stashed into his trouser pockets, along with a handful of the remaining pecans; the dagger he kept in his hand while he sprinted outside.
In passing he noticed the other prints that led back to the train tracks. Not slowing down, however, he changed direction and dove into the shade of the forest. Soon it would be evening, he knew, and the branches and bushes would provide him with even better cover.
He kept running for what felt like an eternity, his lungs on fire and his feet aching. The pain that was steadily emanating from his ribcage made him feel sick to his stomach but he pressed on, always squinting to follow the footprints, always listening out for the voices of the group.
Whenever he deemed it clear enough, he'd dart back out onto the tracks to make sure he hadn't missed her, read the routes that had carried her off-course and into abandoned buildings but in the end he always saw her returning to the path that the trains dictated.
And when the distance she had travelled began to worry him, the occasional walker bodies scattered around the tracks always brought him the reassurance he needed to believe that she was still alive.
The daylight faded and the air around him cooled down when he finally dared to overtake the group he'd been following closely so far. They'd shown signs of fatigue, had slowed down considerably and begun chatting more.
Trying to draw together the last shreds of energy he had left, he broke into a jog once more, flitting through the trees and out of sight before the noises of the broken branches could alert them to his presence. When he'd covered some distance, he sped up even more, slipping back out and onto the tracks when he couldn't hear or see the group behind him.
That's when the pain and the nausea he'd been trying to suppress caught up with him. He just managed to duck under a train bridge, when his body doubled over, forcing him to spit out what little bit of food he had consumed in the past few days. The taste of bile burned his throat while his skin broke into a cold sweat from the effort alone. His vision blurred briefly and then cleared again, giving him a moment to take in the scene in front of him. And even then he wasn't entirely certain if his eyes weren't just deceiving him.
A group of walkers tumbled across the train tracks, trying to join another group that was seemingly trying to enter a building. He didn't have to think twice to know that Carol was trapped in there.
Still, he remained hidden underneath the bridge, reaching for one of the water bottles and then took a quick swig. All the while his eyes were darting around, trying to figure out if there was a better way in than the direct approach. But there wasn't enough time to formulate a perfect plan. Not with Joe and his men breathing up his neck and not when he knew that the walkers could detect him any minute.
He yearned for his crossbow once more. With it he could've at least taken some of them out at a distance, rather than being forced to go in close for the kill.
Cursing, he strengthened his hold around the hilt of the dagger and crept slowly towards the building.
The walkers kept snarling and clawing at the windows and he carefully continued, moving around them at a safe distance.
Then the first infected turned, his movements slow and sluggish, but his face showing definite signs of detection. The dead eyes kept looking around, his chin lifted up, almost like a predator that was sniffing out his prey.
"Come on then," Daryl muttered under his breath, lifting the blade in the air without pouncing.
All the muscles in his body tensed, poised for attack he waited while the walker staggered towards him. Daryl's breath was coming in small puffs now and he dodged one swing of the walker's arms before pinning him to the tracks and driving the dagger into his skull.
The last angry snarl alerted several others of his kind and so Daryl quickly scrambled to his feet again. He couldn't possibly take all of them at once, but he didn't have the time to distract them either.
Panting heavily he stumbled forward, slashing away at as many of them as he could reach, while pushing the remaining ones that threatened to bite him as far away as possible.
But he didn't keep the upper hand for long. There were just too many of them and he begrudgingly came to realise that Carol had been right, he was in no shape to fight yet. His body was worn out and the pain was only causing him to move clumsier.
Another snarl and the stench of decaying breath near his nose caused him to duck and lose his footing so that he tumbled and collided with the side of the building. The impact of the concrete wall against his broken rib nearly knocked him unconscious. For a moment, the walkers were only a blur of shapes and he tried slashing at them with the dagger once more without ever hitting a single one.
"Piss off…" he panted, tears stinging in his eyes.
But of course they didn't listen. In fact, one of them seemed to take his cursing as an invitation to come closer.
Daryl tried reaching for his face, tried to pry his jaw open so that the sharp teeth couldn't sink into his flesh, but it was almost impossible. The walker pressed forward and forward and Daryl's strength was dwindling.
In the end, he closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable but the searing pain never came. Instead the walker let out an angry snarl and when Daryl still didn't feel the stab of teeth, he opened his eyes again.
The walker had collapsed at his side, a hammer driven permanently into his forehead. The image didn't make any sense at all and so for a second Daryl just kept staring at him dazed, before tilting his head to try and see where the hammer had come from.
The grey strands of hair caught his attention first, then the small hand that couldn't possibly have wielded the weapon with such force. He still remembered her clumsy attempts at shooting a gun.
"Daryl!" she gasped, squeezing the rest of her body through the opening, shocked to see him on the ground but at the same time not at all surprised to find him there.
"They're coming!" he replied, in the same rushed tone while trying to find balance on his feet again.
Carol shot a glance over her shoulder, then gave up her attempts at prying the hammer loose again and instead took his hand.
"Run!"
She tugged him along as they darted through the group of walkers, pushing and kicking at the bodies that threatened to devour them. She hadn't asked if he would manage and because of this assumption, this blind faith she seemed to have in him, Daryl found the strength to carry on.
He ignored the pain and the fatigue, and instead focused on her hand, small and fragile and yet capable of leading him with such force and determination.
They ran back into the forest, far away from the openness of the train tracks, no further explanations necessary as the main points had been relayed. Their chased breaths the only sound as the night grew colder around them.
"Stop!" Daryl eventually panted, casting a look backwards to see how far they'd come but in the darkness that surrounded them now everything looked the same. "I think that's far enough." Carol narrowed her eyes doubtfully and reluctantly released his hand when he doubled over in pain.
"I'm sorry." She watched his face twist into a grimace but kept her distance, afraid that she would only hurt him further. "It's my fault it isn't healing properly."
He glanced up at her with a pained frown. "What do you mean?"
"I didn't think when I left…I didn't think about the footprints…"
"They could've found us either way," he sighed, supporting his rib with one hand while trying to straighten up again.
"Yes but I know you Daryl! I knew that if I wasn't back in time you'd come looking for me…but I was so convinced that I wouldn't get myself into trouble…but then…" she stopped and gestured at his body instead as if it was enough to explain the rest.
"But then nothing," he insisted stubbornly, kicking some leaves away to clear up an area for them "ya made a mistake…we've all…"
"Yes but my mistakes keep getting people killed!" she yelled, feeling all the anguish she'd tried to contain seeping out of her body. If only she could swallow it up again so that nobody knew it had happened.
They locked eyes for a split-second and she felt herself burn under Daryl's concerned gaze. Of all the looks she'd ever wanted him to give her, pity hadn't been one of them.
"Let's just set up camp here…try and secure the area…" she muttered tiredly, turning her back on him.
"Carol," he tried and she could hear him taking a step towards her.
"You're right, Daryl, I do need to talk but now isn't the time."