Hey you! And another chapter. This one is pretty long because I didn't want to cut it in half. I wanted these two storylines to be posted together, so here we go. So Murphy, Connor and Daryl arrive in Augusta. All the exciting shit's about to happen now! Yay! I'm so excited, really. I hope you like what I've got in store for you.

Resurrection

Chapter 9- Welcome

62 days ago

April 24th 2008, 4:06pm, Harrisburg, Augusta

Murphy stared out of the window and watched the houses pass by. He still wasn't really used to the heat down here in Georgia, and every now and then he could feel droplets of sweat run down his neck. He couldn't keep his eyes off the houses that surrounded their car to the left and right.

He'd pictured it to be much more different, to be honest. He'd heard of Augusta before, and Simmons had told him that it had been the third largest city of Georgia, and once upon a time there had been about 200,000 people here. Although he could hardly remember anything about it he believed that there had been a lot more people in Boston, and it wasn't like it was about the number of citizens anyway. More former citizens meant more walkers nowadays, so he actually wished that Augusta had been smaller in that regard.

But on the other side, he'd pictured it a whole lot bigger after all the talk. Higher at least, because he could hardly see any skyscrapers. Although Boston had been burning last time he'd seen it - he was used to 40 story skyscrapers, all squeezed together and raising tall like black splinters. And then there was Augusta all...flat.

Flat and empty.

It felt weird. Ever since they got here they had come across maybe a hundred walkers, and most of them had been in the outer neighbourhoods. Now that they got closer and closer to the city center there were hardly any walkers, just a lot of broken down cars, a couple of collapsed buildings and a whole lot of thrash. But other than that: absolutely nothing but the creepy humming of the wind in old ruins, and that freaked him out a bit.

The younger MacManus turned his head to look at the man who was driving the car. Major Keith Simmons, who was pretty much the only man he considered a close friend now. Whenever he looked at him he couldn't help but smirk, because even now the Major still looked like a Major, a soldier, a disciplined army man. Even now he kept his hair and beard in perfect shape, all short and sorted. He still wore his old uniform every now and then, although it had lost its meaning a long time ago.

This was one of the days were he wore it, to let people know that he had authority, because the cities were dangerous, and because this was an official mission. Just yesterday they had successfully managed to contact their destination. The cure research facility really existed, much in contrast to the CDC. Although they had received the broadcast from Augusta Simmons had still made the decision to do a slight detour to check out the Center of Disease Control in Atlanta, only to be utterly disappointed.

They'd found it in ruins, exploded, burned out, overrun and destroyed. Atlanta was lost just like Boston, but whereas the capital of Massachusetts had burned to the ground Georgia's capital was facing an end that was far worse, because it was more than crowded with walkers. Murphy and Simmons had not even really made it right to the CDC, they'd just seen its ruins from the interstate as they'd been pretty desperate to get out of Atlanta as soon as possible.

For weeks they had been on the run, changing cars, crossing abandoned or overrun towns and cities, but now they were here, Augusta, perhaps their final destination, which was the Health Sciences Campus of the Georgia Regents University.

Murphy turned his head again to look at some more houses, to hide the fact that he was actually a bit nervous, maybe even scared. Back in Boston he'd heard Doctor Gregory talk about it. The pathogen - whatever it was - wasn't just in his blood after the bite, it was deep inside his brain, the brainstem, so what if blood tests and samples wouldn't be enough for those research guys? He hated hospitals and doctors, because Gregory had been experimenting way too much with him, but he was so torn. There was no way he was going to let anyone screw around with his brain, especially because that one had been screwed around with enough for a lifetime, but at the same time he did want to help, did want to find a cure, and he did want to make Simmons' dreams come true.

Because even after all these months the Major wouldn't stop talking about it, the miracle that he was still alive, that he was immune, that it was not too late for a cure yet. He wanted to believe, he wanted to find a cure as well, but there was some part inside him that just couldn't believe it, that it was supposed to be -so- easy and ridiculous, really. Mankind ceased to exist, major cities were burning, millions or even billions of people had died, there were dead people walking and eating each other, and he, of all people, was supposed to be the one to cure mankind?

It had to be some sort of joke. He just -couldn't- be the only one in the world to be immune. Once again he felt a lump in his throat right then and there, because he couldn't help but think about his lost brother, the one he hadn't seen in more than six months. What if Connor was immune as well? They were brothers, so they shared stuff, maybe even the same blood type, although he couldn't remember that one.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head. It wasn't supposed to matter, and he knew that none of the two answers would make him feel better. Answer number one: Connor was indeed immune, consequence: Connor was still alive somewhere in America, and he couldn't be reunited with him. Answer number two: Connor had never been immune and never would be, consequence: Connor was probably dead, eaten alive by flesh eating monsters. No matter what it was, Murphy would always be separated from his brother, the one person he still didn't know whether he loved or hated him.

The dark-haired man chewed on his thumbnail and then started licking it, and he got more nervous with every larger house they passed. They were close to the downtown area and they had passed a couple of FEMA/GRU signs by now, which told them that they really weren't that far away from their destination. But there were no people, no soldiers, no walkers. The streets were empty. Murphy frowned and shifted.

"Don't ye think it's a bit weird that we didn't cross paths with any soldiers yet?" he asked quietly and then looked at his friend, whowas staring at the road.

"They're probably guarding their base. Trying to keep up their defences. It's not an uncommon strategy. Defensive rather than aggressive. We did the same thing in Boston."

Murphy nodded.

"Aye, we did, but didn't tha guy on the Walkie say they'd sent an escort ta get us?"

"They did, and they said they'd be waiting for us at Central Square shopping center. Don't you remember that, Dave?"

Murphy frowned and scratched his head, because he honestly couldn't remember. He gritted his teeth and then looked away, ashamed because of his little memory problem.

"Sorry. Forgot 'bout it" he mumbled and Simmons nudged him.

"It's okay. Just stay calm. We're going to be just fine. Mark the date. We're writing history today" he announced and Murphy snorted.

"Let's see about that" he muttered and then pointed at a large flat building to their right.

"Hey look. I think it's tha one."

Simmons turned his head to look at the grey worn out building that had a large hole in its roof. There was a larger parking lot in front of it, so it really looked like it had once been a shopping center. He grabbed the steering wheel and moved the car to the right so he could maneuver it around a large truck that lay on its side so he could get to the exit.

"Let's go see if there's a fuckin Burger King or something like tha. 'm fuckin starving" Murphy retorted as he watched how they passed the building and made their way to the parking lot. Simmons just chuckled.

"Can I please have a Big Mac and a coke, Da? And a toy while we're at it" Murphy went on and then smirked, because his nervousness suddenly turned into anticipation.

It had been weeks since they'd last come across living people, and although he didn't like the military and doctors he was sure that Simmons would keep a good eye on him if things went downhill.

"Shit, I forgot t'ask the obvious the entire time" the younger of the two men said and leaned down so he could search his backpack for his knife just in case.

He then turned his head and smirked at Simmons.

"Are we there yet?"

Keith chuckled once more and then smiled at Murphy as well.

"It's good to see that you can still crack a smile."

Murphy looked back at the shopping center and noticed all the pavilions and tents on the parking lot.
There were cars and a few busses, but he couldn't see any people so far.

"I can't see 'em yet" he muttered and Simmons steered their car around the corner.

"They're probably inside. I wouldn't want to be out in the open like that, either."

Murphy cocked an eyebrow.

"Did they even say who they are?"

"FEMA employees, professors and doctors from university hospital."

"And ye think we can trust 'em?" the dark-haired MacManus twin asked and got nervous again when he noticed the green street sign that said "Medical College / Paine College".

"We have to. What other choice do we have?"

Murphy pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Aye."

They turned another corner and had to drive around the Central Square shopping center advert, which had been knocked down by a car and was now lying half way across the entrance to the parking lot. The mall was right in front of them now as Simmons kept moving their vehicle around broken down cars, a helicopter and several tents and busses, and the closer they got to the actual building the more nervous Murphy got. He hated shopping centers, especially nowadays. There were bits and pieces he remembered from the outbreak, and he knew that his kid or whoever she had been had been ripped apart inside a shopping center like this one, and he had been the one to watch it. He didn't want it to happen ever again.

They were about six rows of cars away from the shopping center when Murphy noticed people by the entrance.

"Look, I think they're there!" he said and pointed at the small group.

Simmons narrowed his eyes to get a better view, because the sun was blinding them both and they could hardly see a thing.
He slowed their car down and grabbed his gun with his right hand, but he kept it out of view just in case.

"Alright. Stay focused. They might be our saviors, but we don't want to strain our luck. Stay calm, self-aware. Don't let them see your fear. I think you and I both know the mentality of some soldiers these days."

Murphy snorted.

"I ain't scared" he muttered and shifted his knife, so he could grab his gun with the other hand, although he still wasn't very good at aiming and shooting it.

They drove closer and closer at a very low speed, and for some reason the others wouldn't move. They were just standing there by the doors, with shopping carts all around them, filled with trash and other stuff. Both groups stared at each other as they approached each other, and Murphy felt even more nervous when he noticed that none of these guys were wearing uniforms, there were no badges, no FEMA, no doctorish people.

"Isn't that..." Murphy tried to say, but then one of the others suddenly started yelling.

"Travellers!" he shouted and the entire group suddenly moved. A few of them ducked behind the shopping carts, others started running right at them.

With baseball bats, crowbars and guns.

"Shit, shit! Turn around, turn around!" Murphy yelled and Simmons slammed the gear stick in reverse.

Tires were screeching as he drove back at full speed, then bullets started raining down on them.

"Fuck!" Murphy exclaimed as he was thrown against the window to his right because of the sheer force of the car turning around like that. He turned his head to look at the window where he'd hit his head, only to widen his eyes in shock. There was a large muscular skinhead with tattoos who was running right at him, with a metal baseball bat in his hand. The guy struck out and then hit the window which such a force that it cracked and fell inside their car, right on top of the younger MacManus twin, who started screaming.

"Get out!" bald man yelled and tried to grab him by his shoulders.

He had managed to take a hold of the moving car and was now clinging to it, while Simmons kept driving around like a madman.

"Get off!" Murphy yelled and managed to free one hand from underneath the window pane. He had lost his knife because of the impact, so all he could do was use his bare hands to fight the attacker off. He grabbed him by his bald head and then tried to yank him down. The stranger struggled violently, but Murphy still managed to pull him even further down. After some more struggling and dragging he slammed the man's head down on what was left of the car window, which made the guy wail in pain when pieces of the glass got stuck in his forehead.

"Fuck off!" Murphy roared and tried to do it once more, but then Simmons suddenly called out.

"Get down!" he shouted and Murphy did as he was told, without even realizing why he was supposed to do it. The bald guy used the moment of freedom to get away from the window and tried to climb inside the car on top of Murphy, but then Simmons raised his gun and pointed it right at the man's head.

When he pulled the trigger Murphy startled and groaned, because his ears were ringing and he couldn't hear anything for a minute. The gun had gone off right next to him and he felt dizzy as hell because of it. Simmons did another spin with the car which caused the shot man to fall out, but they were too fast, there were too many cars and too much trash around them, which was why Simmons and Murphy lost their orientation. They were horrified when they noticed that they were driving right back at the store. The younger of the two saw a man who was still hiding behind one of the shopping carts, and when he pulled a rifle and aimed it right at their windshield the dark-haired MacManus twin widened his eyes in shock.

"Look out!" Murphy screamed and ducked down, but the shooter was too fast.

He heard the loud PANG of the gun going off, then he heard how it scattered glass, and then there was nothing. The car kept driving, and when Murphy finally got back up again he only caught glimpse of a concrete pillar, which they rammed which such a force that he nearly snapped his neck. Murphy hissed and blinked a couple of times, in shock from the crash and shot. He could hear yelling and shooting all around him, but it sounded like it was underwater because his ears were still ringing from the gunshot and impact. He managed to free one hand and rubbed his neck with a groan, and when he looked down on himself he was actually quite surprised that he seemed to be fine apart from a few cuts in his face.

"Oh, fuck..." he muttered, dizzy as hell and world spinning around him.

"We need t'get outta here" he managed to say and turned his head to look at Simmons.

The man was just sitting there, head thrown back, eyes opened wide, with a bloody hole right between his eyes.
Murphy opened his mouth in utter shock, but apart from a strained high-pitched gasp nothing would come out.

This couldn't be fucking real.
That rifle guy couldn't possible be such a good shot that he could shoot someone like Simmons right in the head while he was sitting in a moving car like that.
Just...

"No!" Murphy finally managed to croak and struggled while trying to get the cracked window pane off his lap. He needed much force and violence to move it, but as soon as he was free he turned around and moved closer to his friend, to grab his shoulder so he could start shaking him.

"Keith! Come on, man. I need ye!" he called out and kept shaking him, but Simmons was just lying there, eyes wide open, with one of them starting to bleed. Blood started running out of the hole in his head and down his nose, and Murphy noticed the blood spatters and pieces of brain matter and bones on the head rest behind him.

"No!" Murphy whispered in utter shock, lips trembling because of the utter shock in pain.

A violent gasp escaped his mouth because he couldn't believe that Simmons was really dead, from one second to the next, ripped out of his life just like that.
He started crying and wailing in pain because of the shock and loss, but then he just got angry.

"No! You motherfuckers! I'll fuckin kill yah!" he screamed as loud as he could and started kicking the glove department with all the strength he could gather.

"I'll fuckin kill yah!" he repeated, his blood now boiling with nothing but unstoppable wrath and fury.

He couldn't keep yelling like that because then he felt another pair of arms wrap themselves around his chest, with one hand being pressed to his mouth so he would stop screaming. He startled struggling as someone tried to pull him out of the car.

"Get him outta there! Search the car!" one man yelled somewhere behind him, and Murphy kept yelling and kicking.

Then he opened his mouth as wide as he could and bit the hand that silenced him with all the strength he could gather.

"Ah! Son of a bitch!" his attacker roared and let go of him, and Murphy used this freedom to twirl around while grabbing his gun and knife.

Before his attacker got another chance to grab him he kicked him between his legs and then his right knee, which sent the man with the filthy long black hair to the ground, screaming and wailing in pain.

"Shoot him!" an other man yelled and when Murphy looked up he saw how a whole group of thugs came running at him, with heavy guns in their hands. They were about to aim them at him when the younger MacManus darted forward, grabbed the man he had kicked and yanked him back up by his hair, so he could keep him hostage. He pressed his knife to the man's throat and aimed his gun at the rest of the group.

"One fuckin wrong move and I'll cut his fuckin throat!" he spat, chest heaving because of the excitement and terror.

His eyes were widened in shock and his pupils dilated like he was on drugs.

"You ain't gettin outta here alive" his hostage gasped from under his grip, but Murphy pressed the knife even tighter to his throat and kicked his calf.

"Shut up!" he spat and the man groaned in pain.

"Alright, let's just...talk about it, buddy. We can make a deal. You give us your shit we'll let you go. Everybody's gotta pay to enter my city, y'know" one of the other attackers said as he tried to get closer, but Murphy kept swaying his gun around at all of them, to stop them from coming closer.

"Let him go, motherfucker!" another man in the back roared.

Murphy tensed and had a hard time keeping his hostage in place.
He knew that the odds were against him, because he was outnumbered and facing about 20 thugs at once.

"Come on, we can make this..." the leader of the group tried to speak up again, but when Murphy remembered that he was all alone and that Simmons was dead because of them he absolutely lost it.

"Fuck you!" he yelled and then aimed his gun right at the man's head.

He pulled the trigger and knocked him off his feed while keeping his hostage as a human shield.

"Fuck!" "Oh shit!" the remaining members of the group yelled in a mess of words and started running, but Murphy wouldn't hesitate. He kept pulling the trigger fast and efficiently, the Aequitas tattoo on his trigger finger moving continuously, mind going blank, concentrated on their heads and their heads only. It was like shooting fish in a tank, because the others were busy running and couldn't shoot him because of his human shield, and Murphy managed to shoot five men in the head before they got the chance to hide. He felt strangely comfortable like that, like he'd done shit like this before.

"No! Don't leave m.." his hostage called after his group, but that just made Murphy even more angry.

"Shut it!" the dark-haired MacManus twin roared and then hit the back of his head with the gun. He heard the disgusting and yet satisfying crack of his skull where the gun had made a dent, and then he dragged the body with him so he could use him as a shield while getting back to the crashed car, so he could hide behind it, get his stuff and get the fuck out of here.

"Move! Move! Surround this little fuck!" he heard one of the men yell and saw how a couple of them entered the shopping center, to hide and get the angle at him from in there. Murphy was halfway around the car when he noticed that there were men on the other side, guns pointed right at him. One shot at him but only hit the body he used as a shield, and the younger MacManus startled because of the sheer force of the bullet.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed and tried to duck down, but he knew that it was useless.

He was already getting surrounded, and knew that it was just a matter of seconds until someone would manage to shoot him in the back.

It was so fucking unfair. He had been so close.

Simmons had been so fucking hopeful. He tensed and gritted his teeth, only to make the final decision. If he was going to die, then certainly not like a coward or idiot. He wasn't going to just stand here and hide behind a dead body. He was going to die in a hail of bullets, and he'd make sure that he was going to take as many of these evil fucks with him as he possibly could, to keep them from ambushing any more people after his death. Without a warning he suddenly dropped the body, aimed his gun at the shop window and shot at it, then he started running. He already prepared himself for the worst, maybe a couple of bullets, but somehow, nothing would happen.

What he did hear instead, was the sound of car engines and the loud voice of a man, that was coming to them through speakers.

" You are surrounded by the military! Put your weapons down and freeze! We have orders to shoot on sight! I repeat, drop your weapons and freeze!"

"Oh shit!" Murphy heard one of the thugs yell, and when he turned around to see what the fuck was going on he noticed how the entire group suddenly started running, away from him, and as far away from the approaching vehicles as possible. He was too baffled and confused to start running himself, because he was now facing three large military SUVs, with bright spotlights on their roofs. It was broad daylight but they still used them to blind him.

Murphy just stood there in pure shock and horror, because too much shit had happened at once. He leaned against their crashed car, fear and panic rushing over him as he raised both his hands in a defensive manner. He hated the military since Boston, but he knew what they were capable of, and since the thugs were already scared shitless because of them he just knew that he didn't stand a chance against them. So did as he was told and carefully placed his gun on the ground but still within reach, hands up in the air and trembling because he was frightened.

Then he saw them, about six heavily armed soldiers with rifles, who were running at him while another group covered them to their left and right.

"Where are you from?" one of the soldiers yelled at him, but Murphy was too shocked to answer.

He could only think about one thing: I'm so tired and I don't want to die.

He couldn't get the image of Simmons getting shot out of his head, and now that the thugs were gone he could really process his friend's death.

"I'm..." he whispered and then two soldiers were already on him and forced him to the ground to search him.

"I said, where are you from?" the soldier repeated and then grabbed him by his black hair to yank his head up.

"Ow fuck! 'm...'m from Boston ye fuck!" Murphy finally managed to yell back at him, because he hated it when he was being manhandled like that.

The soldier let go of him and turned around to look at the rest of his crew.

"We've found them!"

62 days later

June 25th 2008, 11:24am, Uptown, Augusta

"You sure he said University hospital?" Daryl asked as he stared out of his window with a worried frown.

They were in Augusta, pretty much the city center, but there were no walkers, no people, no doctors no soldiers, absolutely no one.

Augusta was a ghost town.

He remembered what Atlanta had used to be like last year, when they had been so close to the city. There had been a shitton of walkers back then. And looters who shot old people in their heads. With Augusta it was strangely different. He could see burned out car wrecks and bodies on the ground, and it was unmistakable that there had been some sort of war going on here, because there were military vehicles parked in the middle of the roads, even a bunch of helicopters and two tanks. He could even see a bunch of dead bodies of soldiers, but there were no alive ones or undead ones.

He didn't like it at all.

He knew that some herd had to be there, maybe there was a hotspot where they kept lurking around. He turned his head when Connor spoke up.

"Aye. He said university hospital. Those are the ones they'd been in contact with til last month or so. He said they were workin on something last time they talked. He said we can't miss it, 's right in te middle of the city and that it's guarded by soldiers and FEMA guys."

Daryl snorted.

"FEMA guys" he muttered and shook his head.

"Don't see no one around, do you?"

Connor massaged the back of his neck and stared out of the window to let his gaze wander. He started chewing on his lower lip and frowned.

"Aye, I gotta give ye that. 's kinda weird that there's no one around. Especially since this is sapposed t'be a large city."

Both men looked a bit around and then Connor chuckled.

"But 'm not exactly surprised, considering that this is redneck-fuckin-territory. I'm surprised that people actually used ta live in real houses here.
I always thought you guys live in trailer parks 'n shit. And where are all the trucks, fer real. All I see is fuckin minivans."

Daryl frowned and looked at his friend.

"And yah complainin when I'm talkin 'bout potatoes, sheep fuckers and leprechauns?"

Connor chuckled and hit Daryl's left thigh a couple of times.

"'m just shitting ye, brother. But fer real, were are all the skyscrapers and shit?" he asked and turned the car around, oblivious to the fact how Daryl tensed at his touch and moved out of his way.

"This ain't Atlanta" Daryl growled and looked away, because once again he couldn't help but feel weird.

Connor suddenly pointed at a larger eight story building complex to their left. It was a large red brick building with white wings, and there on the top they could read it, against the black wall in large white letters - "UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL"

"Look, there it is" the Irishman noticed and Daryl looked up to get a better look at the large building.

He narrowed his eyes and then grabbed Connor's dufflebag to search for their binoculars.

"Slow down" he demanded and his friend looked at him with a frown.

"What? You see anyone?" he asked and looked at the hospital, but couldn't see anything.

Daryl grabbed the binoculars and then searched the surrounding skyline, eyes fixed on the hospital windows and roof.

"No. It don't feel right. Slower."

Connor frowned once more and kept an eye on the abandoned streets as he moved their Mustang around several crashed cars.

"We're not even there yet and yer already freakin out, man" he muttered, although he had to admit that Daryl had a point.

"Then explain this to me" the hunter said and let go of the binoculars so he could look the Irishman in the eye.

"No lookouts. No snipers. No guards, no blockades, no nothin. These guys've been broadcasting shit all over the country if Milton's right. So they just gotta be prepared for all sortsa shit. You can't have a medical facility like that with a possible cure, and then not be prepared for unwanted visitors. That's just stupid."

Connor started chewing on his lips again and then continued looking at the hospital.

"Alright Daryl Homes, we better come up with a plan then."

Daryl snorted and had a look through the binoculars again.

"You ain't gonna plan shit. Your plans always suck."

Connor smirked knowingly and chuckled.

"Aye, but ye love it when they go wrong and there's some action."

"Yeah, cos then I get to kick your stupid ass" Daryl countered and Connor chuckled even more.

"So ye like my plans and my ass, interesting" he muttered as he drove around another corner and Daryl hit his chest with a soft chuckle.

"Shut up."

Both men fell quiet then, and Connor let out a gentle sigh.

"Eh, 'bout those girls earlier" he suddenly said.

Daryl tensed and turned his head away.

"Don't get started on that shit now. We're..."

A loud PANG and then the hiss off air startled both men and interrupted their conversation. Connor suddenly found it difficult to steer the car and slowed down.

"What te fuck was that?" he asked and looked at Daryl with a confused frown.

The hunter shrugged and then let his gaze wander, now alarmed and ready to act should anything weird happen.
Connor managed to move their car to the side of the road and then hit the breaks.

"Jesus fuckin Christ" he muttered and then moved the steering wheel once more, only to hit it with his palm.

"Fuckin flat tire that's gotta be" he observed and turned around to look back on the street behind them, to see if they had run over splinters or sharp metal. But he couldn't see shit.

"Great" he growled and grabbed both his guns.

He put one in his leg holster and grabbed the other one with his right hand, only to exchange another worried glance with Daryl.

"Let's go outside, have a look, and if it's too bad then I guess we'll have ta walk"

Daryl nodded and grabbed his crossbow, looking just as pissed and worried. Despite the fact that neither of them could get attacked by walkers he still hated how they were now stuck in the middle of a large city without a car or any other means to bail out quick, so he was even more worried. Both men stepped out of the car and had a look around, then Connor crouched down next to the front of their vehicle to get a better look at the flat left tire.

"Cover me" he said to Daryl and then pressed his hand to the tire.

He felt the ripped and hot rubber which smelled burned and disgusting, and there was a large hole in its side.

"Shit. We've got a goner here. We can pretty much screw that" he observed and then got back up to wipe his hands.
He stared at the shining black vehicle and shook his head.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, that was a nice car" he said and looked at Daryl, eyes nothing but slits because the sun was blinding him.

"Ye think we should risk changing the tire? Although we're almost there?"

Daryl stared back at his friend for a while and chewed on the inner side of his cheek. He knew that Connor was right about the almost being there thing, but he didn't like how they would have no ride otherwise. Even if they did get to the hospital in one piece, who was there to tell them that this place was any safer than out here? He nodded reluctantly and grabbed his crossbow tighter while making his way over to Connor.

"Yeah, but hurry" he said and his friend jogged to the back of their car, so he could get the spare tire, equipment, and the rest of their stuff plus the rifle bag they had stolen from Woodbury. Just in case.

He dragged the stuff over to the front of the car and Daryl grabbed some of it when he saw that it was still rather awkward for Connor with his healing wrist. The Irishman threw the spare tire to the ground and then grabbed the car jack to start pumping. He wouldn't stop looking around either, because the silence and ghost town atmosphere of it all crept him out as well. He couldn't wait to get the fuck away from here.

Daryl started walking up and down their car in slow circles, so he could keep an eye on all the nearby houses, cars, streets and alleys. He looked at Connor from time to time, who was kneeling next to the car now so he could get rid of the lug nuts. The Irishman wiped the sweat off his forehead and smudged it with dirt during the process, and now he looked like a weird mechanic, which made Daryl smirk.

"So yah actually weren't shitting when you said you really had cars in Ireland? Not carriages?"

Connor snorted and freed the tire from another nut.

"Fuck you, where do ye think I got me driver's licence from?"

He'd gotten that back in Boston and he had been the only one to get it, not Murphy because of the money issues, but it wasn't like Daryl needed to know that. The hunter raised an eyebrow and smirked even more, it was a private smirk since he had his back turned on the Irishman by now to keep an eye on what was going on behind them.

"Yah call this driving?"

"Jesus, you really fuckin love me taday, don'tche?" Connor grunted because the next lug nut was stuck.

"Real nice charmer y'are today" he went on and looked at his friend's back that was turned on him. Daryl chuckled.

"Yeah, got charm coming outta my ass."

"Pff" Connor retorted and looked at his friend's ass, trying to picture what that would look like. Charm coming out of his ass. Ha.

He got back to the tire iron and then started kicking it when the lug nut wouldn't give in.

"Fuckin...thing won't come off. Move! You! Fuckin! Bitch!" he grunted, but the tire iron wouldn't move an inch.

Daryl turned around and looked at him, and once again there was the infamous 'Really?' expression on his face. The hunter walked over to his friend and then kicked his ass because it looked way too inviting, and when Connor got up the hunter shoved him away to get to the tire instead. Daryl threw his crossbow over his shoulder and then leaned down so he could grab the tire iron with both his hands. His friend leaned against the car, folded his arms and watched him with a cocky smirk on his face. His expression screamed "bring it on, then. Bet you can't do shit" at the hunter, which made Daryl even more determined. Damn right he was going to bring it and show that loser that was his friend that he was way stronger than him.

He gathered all the strength he had and then started pulling and moving the tire iron, muscles in his arms tense and moving underneath sun-tanned dirty skin. He grunted awkwardly and kept pulling until the lug nut finally gave in, and for a second Connor couldn't stop staring because he was jealous and had to admit that even after all this time Daryl was still a whole lot stronger than him. The hunter still had more muscles and the Irishman hated that, because he was older, mouthier, which was why he was supposed to be the stronger of the two, which he wasn't at all.

Daryl shoved the tire iron to his chest which made the Irishman huff.
He caught it just in time to stop it from falling to the ground, as Daryl walked past him and bumped into him on purpose.

"Pussy" he said, which made Connor pout and then snort.

"Bullshit. I already loosened this shit fer you. I did all the work."

"Yeah, you wish" Daryl said and kept walking. He grabbed his crossbow again to stay alert.

Connor crouched down again and got rid of the old tire when the rattling of metal on asphalt could be heard.
The Irishman frowned and then looked down, only to see that a large caliber bullet had fallen out of the ripped tire.

"What te fuck" the Irishman said and grabbed it, only to hiss because it was still hot.

"Jesus fuckin .." he said, realization suddenly hitting him like a train. He looked up at the surrounding houses in surprise, and Daryl approached him with a frown.

"What's wrong?" his friend asked, while the Irishman started moving and tried to turn his head slowly and carefully.

"Move yer ass over here. Slowly. Don't let 'em know we're on 'em" Connor hissed and finally managed to catch a glimpse of his friend.

Daryl noticed the worried and tense look on Connor's face, and that was enough to make him understand that his friend wasn't joking.
The Irishman kept making it look like he was still changing the flat tire, and Daryl moved even closer to him.

"Make it look like yer helpin me with the tire" Connor murmured and then grabbed the new tire, and Daryl crouched down next to him.

The Irishman slowly pointed at the bullet during one of his swift motions.

"Someone fuckin shot at us and made the goddamn tire explode" he hissed and put the new tire on, then he looked at Daryl.

"Make it look like yer talking and looking at me and check out what's going on inside the houses behind me. I do the same thing on the other side" he muttered and the two men looked each other in the eye, only inches apart, eyes then fixed on their surroundings.

"See anything?" Connor muttered after about a minute later.

The hunter shook his head.

"Nope."

The Irishman let out a frustrated sigh but then froze when he believed to see a guy up on the roof of one of the houses to their left.

"Shit. 3:50."

Daryl frowned and stopped staring at the surrounding houses, so he could look his friend in the eye with a frown.

"3:50?"

Connor looked at him as well and hushed him angrily.

"Shh! As in right be-fuckin-hind you, man" he hissed and then slowly reached out for their rifle bag.

"'m gonna grab te rifle, place yerself in fronta me and make it look like yer putting the lug nuts back on. Which, by the way, ye could actually do."

Daryl did as he was told whereas Connor reached out for the bag and kept an eye on the potential sniper. All the more did it surprise him when it looked like the guy saw right through their plan. He startled even more when Daryl suddenly wrapped his arms around his waist and wrestled him to the ground.

"Get down!" he yelled and then Connor suddenly heard shots going off right from behind him.

Within seconds there were even more gunshots, piercing the surface of their Mustang like it was made of tin foil.

"Jesus fuckin Christ!" Connor exclaimed and managed to grab the rifle just in time.

A second later a bullet hit the asphalt right where his hand had been, then he felt how Daryl grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him away from the car. Connor managed to catch a glimpse of their attackers, there were three on the roof and more of them coming down the streets, a couple of them with motor bikes. It looked like it was a fucking gang.

Great.

They managed to get to the street corner and Connor was busy reloading their rifle when they suddenly ran into another bunch of guys, who had managed to close in on them from behind.

"Shit!" Daryl exclaimed and hit the first guy in the face with his crossbow, and when he was busy keeping his balance Connor suddenly twirled around, grabbed his Beretta and aimed it an the next bunch. They worked like a well established team, because Connor didn't even have to tell Daryl, the hunter ducked down right away, to give his friend the opportunity to fire his gun over his back. He used the time Connor was shooting at their attackers to reload his crossbow down there.

"Down!" Connor yelled as soon as their attacker was dead. He turned in the other direction, in perfect tune with Daryl, who got back up and aimed his weapon at the next bunch of people with machetes, baseball bats, guns and knives. Connor was busy shooting at the guys on motor bikes on the main street, and he did manage to hit one of their tires, which sent one of the bikers down, with more of them colliding with the crashed vehicle.

"Three!" Connor exclaimed and then exchanged his Beretta for the rifle, so he could aim at one of the snipers on the roof and who kept shooting at them.

Both men kept walking like that, back to back, Connor walking backwards and keeping an eye on the rear, Daryl walking ahead and keeping an eye on what was ahead. There were many guys closing in on them as they tried to get away from main street and the hospital, and they knew that it was only a matter of time until they would get overwhelmed. Daryl shot two arrows at the guys with guns, but when he realized that it took to long to reload his beloved weapon he threw it over his shoulder and reached back. Connor was busy aiming at the sniper, and the hunter used the time to let his hand travel down his friend's hip and then thigh, so he could get to his leg holster where he kept his other Beretta.

Connor startled because of the touch and accidentally pulled the trigger, but missed the sniper.

"Fuck! I missed because of that, you fucker!" he complained and pulled the rifle bolt back to reload.

"It's cos you're fuckin blind!" Daryl roared and then pulled his friend's gun to shoot another guy who had managed to get dangerously close to them with his knife.

"Fuck you!" Connor yelled back and pulled the trigger once more, and this time he hit the sniper and sent him flying down the roof.

"Nailed him!"

"Two down!" Daryl informed him but then they came to a halt, because now there were fucking cars involved.

The hunter widened his eyes when he saw a shiny red BMW speed right at them, and when he saw how one guy got out of the window and pulled a heavy rifle at them he started yelling again.

"Get down!" he screamed and pulled at Connor's shirt again, then bullets rained down on them once more, hitting the windows of a former clothing shop and causing thousands of pieces of glass to rain down on them.

"Jesus fuckin Christ, is that what they call a fuckin welcome party here? Not fuckin redneck my ass!" Connor roared as he kept running away, crouched down, hands covering his head as he tried to make it to a nearby alley.

He groaned when something suddenly hit him right in the guts, and it took him a moment to realize that one guy had manage to jump him from inside the shop.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed but instantly reacted. He ran at the guy and shoved him back, and when the man nearly lost his balance Connor buried his right fist in his side right where his kidneys were. The man let out a painfilled groan but couldn't do anything else, because then the Irishman used the grip of his rifle to knock him out.

"Down!"

"We gotta get outta here!" Daryl yelled and croaked when someone suddenly wrapped an arm around his throat and started strangling him from behind. Connor was still busy shooting at the red BMW and couldn't hear his croaks and struggling because of the noise of all the bullets and yelling. No matter what the hunter did, he couldn't fight his attacker of. He was even more horrified when the guy suddenly pulled a gun and aimed it right at his friend's back.

"Connor!" he croaked, but couldn't speak because of the lack of air, and just when the guy was about to pull the trigger to kill his friend he was suddenly knocked out by a brutal blow to his head.

Daryl gasped in shock and turned around, knife and gun ready to kill. He was staring at an old thin man with grey hair, who was staring back at him with wide eyes.

"This way!" he shouted at Daryl and then pointed at the back alley he'd come from.

Daryl turned around to see where Connor was, and when he saw how -close- the rest of the thugs were he realized that he didn't have any other choice.

"Connor!" he shouted which made his friend turn around.

"Grab your shit! Let's get the hell out of here!"

Connor shot another guy and then cursed, because he finally realized that it was hopeless as well. He threw the rifle over his shoulder, grabbed their backs and then started running after his friend and the stranger, praying to god that this wasn't some sort of stupid trap.