AN: Just wanted to say sorry about the wait on this chapter; real life has been getting in the way of my writing time, how dare it! Lol. Anyway, hope this is worth it :P
Carol stared down at Daryl's face. He was perfectly still, and despite the sallow look to his skin, actually looked rather peaceful; if she didn't know better she'd say the man was just sleeping. But she did know better, if it weren't for the barely discernable rise and fall of his chest she'd think he'd succumbed to his wounds. She wished there was more she could do for him, but until they stopped all she could do was keep pressure on his injury as she'd been for some time now; although the bleeding had slowed to a mere trickle, he couldn't afford to lose anymore blood than he already had. Even if they had the ability to give him a transfusion it's not like they knew his blood type, so that point was moot.
As she kept her silent vigil, behind her danger stirred. Merle's corpse was slowly re-animating and none of the passengers had yet to notice. Possibly they're only saving grace was the tattered sheet he'd been wrapped in, slowing his undead movements, and causing the rustling that alerted Carol to turn and look behind her.
Her eyes widened in horror when she did look. Merle, still covered in the sheet, was sitting up on the bed. His head slowly turned in her direction; a sickening growl sounded as he reached for her. Carol let out an ear piercing scream as she stood straight up and took a step back, only to bump into the bed Daryl lay on. She could back up no further and Merle was now blocking her exit. Even if she wanted to leave her friend laying unconscious in the presence of a walker, she had nowhere to go and no weapon to defend herself with. As Merle stood the sheet slipped from his face, thankfully it stayed wrapped about his arms and torso, continuing to hinder his movements. She stared up into his murky blue eyes, letting out a strangled cry as her voice deserted her and fear took its place. This was it, she was going to die. She shut her eyes to the terror she faced, "I love you, Sophia." she whispered goodbye.
Her scream had alerted the others, at first they'd thought something was wrong with Daryl, but when they'd turned to see what was going on in the back they started shouting in horror and scrambling for weapons to help the trapped woman.
"What the hell is going on back there?" Shane screamed as he turned to see for himself. When he saw Merle Dixon snarling and growling, still partially wrapped in a bloody sheet and reaching out for Carol he simply forgot he was driving; just stopped and stared, shocked.
Mistake. In his distraction, the RV began veering to the left, the road they were on was fairly clear of abandoned cars but not entirely. The corner of the RV clipped one and sent them spinning wildly. Shane fought for control of the old Winnebago, but his efforts were in vain. They careened wildly toward the ditch, landing in it and tipping over onto their left side.
When Shane had initially lost control of the vehicle it was a godsend for Carol. As the vehicle lurched, it sent Merle flying towards the back of the small room, slamming into the wall. She would have flown with him if not for desperately latching on to Daryl's bed at the last moment, although she couldn't keep her grip for long. As they continued to spin and slide, all the passengers were thrown about, unable to keep hold of any solid object. Until they finally came to a jarring halt.
Rick stared blankly at the RV in front of him, trying to sort out the events of the past several hours in his dazed mind. The toll of the day was beginning to take effect on him; he was starting to regret being so stubborn and not allowing Lori to drive. The car was silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts; the tension in the air suffocating.
Carl and Sophia sat in back staring out the windows at the desolate scenery. They were in a relatively rural area, with a small population before the world went to shit. The tall grass and green trees surrounding them was littered with abandoned vehicles and burnt out shells of what once must have been lovely homes. Lori was glaring out her own window brooding over her husband's pigheaded insistence that he drive. He was obviously in no condition; she had caught him trying to hide the tremors coursing through him mere minutes after the journey began. Rather than arguing over the subject yet again, she huffed, irritated and turned her attention to the world outside the Cherokee.
Rick knew that it was a stupid idea to drive, but hell, he'd just chopped off his own hand in front of his young son! He wanted to give Carl some reassurance that he'd be alright, at the moment that meant being a man and sucking it up. He knew Lori was beyond pissed about it and one half of him didn't care, he was fed up; but on the flip side, he felt increasingly guilty as the minutes went by. Maybe he should apologize. Rather than use words, he thought a silent gesture would be more effective. He reached over for her hand, making it half way there before leaving his incomplete arm hovering in mid air between them. It was just so natural to reach for her with his hand; that's when it really hit him that it was no longer there. Panic began to rise in him, it was irrational he knew, but he couldn't help it. What was he going to do now? What were his chances to protect his family in this new dangerous world with only one hand? How could he give Carl reassurance when the only ones he had were lies?
His arm had only been left suspended between them for a moment, but Lori had noticed it nonetheless. She turned to her husband and saw the panic and despair, self doubt and uncertainty written on his face. Reaching over, Lori placed her hand on Rick's knee giving a gentle squeeze to get his attention. Her gaze softened and she locked eyes with him. In that moment, they shared a silent communion and everything was said with out words: it spoke of understanding and acceptance, apology and encouragement. Their serene moment was shattered by the piercing crash of metal on metal; they whipped their heads up to the horrifying sight of the RV spinning wildly before slamming into the ditch and toppling to its side.
The moment the RV stilled Glenn pushed himself up, scanning his surroundings with a hurried glance, his practiced eye taking in everything in that brief moment. Shane couldn't be seen from where he sat, T-dog was sprawled near him in an unceremonious heap with Andrea trapped beneath him. She appeared to be in pain and struggling to free herself from the larger man pinning her to the cracked window. Her efforts were hindered by T-dog's blundering attempts to move off of her and they just became more entangled.
Any thought Glenn had to help them out was banished when his visual sweep landed on the small sleeping area of the Winnebago. Merle's body was haltingly shambling to its feet no more than a yard from were Daryl's limp form lay, Carol grasping at the man's ankles before springing to her feet, desperately trying to drag the him out of harms way.
Quelling the urge to panic, Glenn quickly surveyed the area once more, this time looking for something, anything, to take Merle down with. His eyes landed on a shard of glass it was long and sharp and at the moment, just perfect. Without hesitation, he snatched it up ignoring the slice it sent into his palm, and vaulted to his feet. Cringing at the sudden pain that flared in his right ankle when he put any weight on it and pushing the discomfort to the side, he rushed to his friends aid and launched himself at Undead Merle.
He stabbed his impromptu weapon directly into Merle's eye; it broke off, but went deep enough to penetrate the brain. Merle's body stumbled backwards before falling for the last time. It'd begun and ended all in an instant; that didn't make it any less terrifying. Taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, he turned to Carol. The woman had watched his heroic display in silence, she continued to stare, as if frozen, until he spoke.
"Are you ok, Carol?" Glenn's voice betrayed him, he was still on edge from the whole ordeal.
She glanced away, instead looking at Daryl, "Yea, he didn't get ahold of me or Daryl. Thank you Glenn." She returned her misted gaze to the young Asian's, offering him a weak smile.
They looked up to T-dog and Andrea in the little hall area, Andrea cradling her left arm. Shane appeared just behind them, one hand pressed to the left side of his head and a grimace on his face; blood could be seen running down his cheek, peeking from underneath his hand.
"Damn, is everybody alright?" he inquired of the others, looking around. "What's with the arm Andrea?"
"I think it's dislocated," Andrea answered trying to hide her discomfort.
"Well shit. How's Daryl doing there?" he directed to Carol.
"He's bleeding again." was the soft reply.
They were interrupted by Rick's voice, "Shane, what the hell happened? You ok in there?"
"Yea, Rick, we're ok." He reassured his friend. "We need a way out of here, can you find something to break the windshield with so we don't gotta climb out?"
"Yea, just hang tight." Rick advised.
While they waited, Shane took action. He began rummaging around the contents of the useless box of metal they were currently trapped in, "Glenn, T-dog, help me gather what we can. Get what looks important for now. The place we're headed isn't too far off from here. We'll come back later to grab the rest."
The other men lost no time heeding his words, they were making short work of the scavenging when Rick's voice sounded once again.
"Ok, stand back!" The order was followed by a loud thud and the sound of glass splintering. He'd found a hammer and was pounding away on the windshield. A few more good strikes and it shattered. He used the hammer to clear the edges of the jagged pieces still protruding dangerously from the frame.
"Hurry!" Rick urged, "I spotted some walkers headed this way, they're far enough they won't be a problem as long as we move quick. It'll be a tight fit, but we'll all pile into the Cherokee."
They didn't need to be told twice. Tossing the bags they'd been filling to Glenn, Shane and T-dog team-lifted Daryl, they tried to be gentle but were much less so than when they'd done this a mere half hour ago. Regardless of their treatment, this time the man remained silent. Carol scurried behind them, but stopped long enough to snatch up her sewing kit from where it'd landed during the chaos. Andrea and Glenn were already to the car by the time the rest of the group reached them.
Rick was giving hasty orders which, for once, no one questioned. "Carl, get in the front and sit on you mother's lap." He looked to the cargo area of the truck; it was too full of supplies to lay an injured man back there. "Carol, Andrea, get in the back. We'll lay Daryl across your legs, keep him from falling to the floor. Sophia, I'm sorry, but you sit on the end. We'll lay him across you too; it'll just be his legs so it shouldn't be too heavy for you. Shane, you and T-dog find a way to fit back there." He nodded toward the trunk.
Dale sat on the motorcycle watching the others frantically getting situated. He was getting increasingly antsy, ready to move on. The walkers were getting closer, and they were nearly out of time. Shane slammed the back of the vehicle shut just as one of the dead beasts ran into it. Once Dale saw that, he was done waiting. The bike roared to life and he sped off. Rick stomped the gas, fleeing the devil at their backs yet again.