Hello! And a new chapter. Oho we're getting to the fun bits and to the great big revelation. I can't wait to type all that. Anyway, thanks for the maaaaany reviews on the previous chapter. I was so pleased with your reactions :D
I don't know if anyone has seen this, but I really did it. My dear friend Mikayla took Salvation with her to show it to Sean Flanery, and he posted a picture of it on his twitter:
twitter com seanflanery/status/362011428661645312
She said that he was very excited and said stuff like: "This is the story that everyone wants to read!"
I cried for hours because it made me so happy. He even wants a copy, although I'm not sure if I should give him one.
Okay, enough with the fangirl talk. Here's the new chapter:
Resurrection
Chapter 12 - Sewers
The loud banging on the door woke Daryl up with a start. The hunter blinked and then shifted, hair a complete mess and glued to his forehead. He'd been sleeping on his belly, and it took him a moment to focus. He didn't even know where he was which resulted in him being confused as hell, but when he turned his head in the direction of the door and when he saw the window he remembered again.
Augusta. The hospital. The ambush. On the run.
He moaned gently and rubbed his itching eyes, but there it was again, the banging, and then the yelling.
"Get up yah morons! We gotta go!" the old man that Connor liked to call 'Bob' yelled. There was one final bang on the door and then he was gone.
Daryl turned on his back with a sigh and then stared at the ceiling just so he could wake up properly. It was still way too fucking early. That was all he could think about right now. The sun wasn't up yet, it was still dark, the heat of the sun was gone. It was a damn shame that no clocks were working anymore, but he was pretty sure it had to be around 2 or 3 am in the morning.
Way too fucking early.
He turned his head to see how Connor was doing after that rude awakening, and he was rather surprised to see that his friend was still asleep. It was a bit weird, to be honest. He knew that Connor usually slept pretty light, and most of the time he didn't really need that much sleep either, but then he remembered that his friend had taken the night watch shift the day before. And the day before that. Sooner or later even leprechauns needed to sleep, he supposed.
The hunter turned on his side and moved closer to his friend to wake him up. He still felt a bit weird and upset because of last night, but this was a new morning, a new day, so maybe he just needed to forget about it now. He didn't dwell on the past, he was living in the present. At least he tried to keep telling himself that.
He placed a hand on the Irishman's shoulder and then shook him gently, to let him know that it was time to wake up.
"Connor" he called out but not too loud, although he knew that the blonde was a morning person after all.
He shook the Irishman again and then the blonde finally shifted with a gentle moan.
"Fuck off" came the answer just like every single morning.
Daryl tried to be pissed as well, but somehow he just couldn't.
He smirked and nudged his friend's shoulder a bit harder this time, only to get up so he could get ready for their upcoming travel to the hospital.
Connor moaned once more and then turned on his back, shirt and hair a complete mess, and face rather wrinkly from the deep sleep.
"What time is it?" the Irishman muttered as he rubbed his eyes and scratched his forehead.
Daryl was busy sorting their stuff in their bags and wouldn't look at his friend.
"'We gotta get to the freakin hospital before these thugs get us' time" Daryl answered and then threw his friend's duffel bag on top of him, just to annoy him.
Connor huffed because of the sudden weight on his chest and then growled.
"Right, I forgot about tha shit" he mumbled and then sat up.
It was awfully quiet after that, because both men remembered what had happened the day before. It didn't look like Connor had noticed anything that had happened during the night, and although Daryl was glad about that it still didn't make him feel any better about it. Connor got up from the bed and moved his healthy hand across his face, then started searching for his shoes. He was still a bit sleepy, that was true, but he wasn't grumpy because it was so early. He was grumpy because of everything his friend had said yesterday. They wouldn't speak anymore and got ready, and when they opened the door Bob was already standing there, foot tapping on the floor, all nervous, grumpy and impatient.
"You havin fun in there?" he asked in a sarcastic voice.
Connor walked past him, duffel bag strapped around his shoulder. The Irishman snorted and headed for the door.
"Yeah, loadsa fun" he muttered and Daryl, who was exiting the bedroom right after his friend tensed and gritted his teeth.
Great.
"Just get us to that new hideout of theirs" the hunter demanded, no longer able to hide his grumpiness as well.
"So what's the deal with you two and the GRU?" Bob asked as they made their way across one of the many streets in downtown Augusta. The three men were walking around in the dark, but the old man seemed to be completely comfortable with it. Connor and Daryl kept looking around with their weapons ready, eyes fixed on the surrounding dark and abandoned houses.
They thought they were used to this whole thing by now, but truth was that they were still far from it. They had spent the past year on a farm or in small towns, so they hadn't been able to really see what was going on in the big cities. Especially for Connor it was rather weird and like some twisted deja vu, because the last time he'd been surrounded by large empty downtown buildings and shops had been when he'd been trying to escape Boston.
Sometimes he still thought about old Bean town, what it looked like these days, and if it weren't for the fact that he'd lost his brother back there then maybe he would even admit that he missed the old city. He wondered if it looked like that now. Abandoned, corpses on the ground, cars that were stripped clean, burned out or abandoned, like a ghost town.
When Bob spoke up his voice echoed all the way across the street and surrounding alleys, which made both friends turn around with worried frowns.
"Don't worry. Ain't their territory. Downtown belongs to the nerds. They kinda made a deal and split the city up. At least for a while. Wouldn't surprise me if that shit goes t'hell as well" Bob said and then shook his head with a chuckle.
"Still don't exactly think it's a good idea to be walking around in the open like that" Daryl muttered and looked up, because he thought that he'd seen something move behind one of those dark windows. He felt pretty paranoid but didn't care. He didn't exactly fancy another ambush like yesterday.
"Aye" Connor agreed and both men looked at each other, maybe regretting their idea to go with the old man.
He had granted them a bed and saved their asses, that was true, but that still didn't mean that they really trusted him.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch. There's another tunnel right up ahead just waiting for y'all t'complain about other shit."
Connor snorted because the old man's attitude amused him, despite the tension.
"So what is the deal with you and the nerd squad?"
Connor and Daryl exchanged yet another glance, and the hunter shook his head when his friend was about to open his mouth.
"Ain't none of your business, Bob" the hunter answered, which made the old man snort this time.
"How many times do I have t'tell y'all. My name ain't Bob you lil rug muncher."
"Well, ye wouldn't tell us yer name" Connor reminded him and Bob answered him with an angry frown.
"That's cos it ain't none of your goddamn business, sunny."
Connor raised an eyebrow and the put both his hands up in the air to show defeat.
"All right..." he said and smirked to himself, and Daryl got a bit disappointed when his friend wouldn't give him their private knowing smirk this time.
He was excluded from the conversation.
"Don't get yer panties in a bunch" the Irishman said and then smirked, because he was repeating the words the old man had said just moments before.
There was silence again, until some loud metallic clattering somewhere in an alley in front of them startled all three men at once. Connor drew his Beretta, Daryl his crossbow, but Bob still didn't seem too fazed by walked across the street, slower, trying to stay silent and keep it low, and when they got closer to the corner they could hear it again. The shattering of metal and the rustling of tin foil and paper. The Irishman was closest to the corner and pressed his back against the wall. He looked at the other two men who were trying to get to the other corner. He nodded and grabbed his Beretta tight, and when he was just about to walk around the corner and point his gun at whatever was there Bob suddenly called out.
"Watch out, sunny!" he yelled and darted forward. Connor didn't even need to turn around, he knew what was waiting for him because he could smell it: the stench of rotten flesh, then he heard it, the dragging of feet, the raspy, dead breathing of an undead person. He turned around but at the same time relaxed, knowing that the walker wouldn't do anything to him anyway. But he was a bit surprised when he turned around and saw how close the walker was, right in front of him, face to face. Connor just stood there and looked the walker right in the eye, not scared, maybe just disgusted by the stench and look of the rotten walking corpse.
"What the..." Bob gasped and the undead turned his head in the direction of the old man with a snarl.
He walked right past Connor and staggered in Bob's direction. Their guide was too puzzled and surprised by what had happened, so Daryl reacted and shot an arrow at the undead's head. The walker's head was thrown to the side because of the impact, and with a final growl he fell to the ground. Connor turned around to check the alley for any more walkers, while Daryl used the time to get his arrow back. When both men finally looked at Bob again they saw that the old man was still in shock. He was staring at Connor with wide eyes, and it took him a pretty long while until he could talk again.
"What the...how is this possible?" he snapped, seemingly angry all of the sudden.
"Were you bit?!" he went on and tried to get to the Irishman, but Daryl stepped between them.
"Hey, relax old man" he said, but Bob ignored him and kept staring at Connor.
The Irishman automatically messaged his shoulder and then put his Beretta away.
"Well there ye have yer reason why we need to get t'this fuckin crew" he muttered and then nudged the walker on the ground to make sure he was really dead.
Bob snorted and fought Daryl's hands off. He kept staring at the both of them in utter disbelief.
"You two ain't telling me you're immune to this shit."
Connor rolled his eyes and started walking, because even now he still hated it and didn't like talking about it.
"Can we please just get te fuck going? Being out here in the open ain't sitting right with me. Where's the tunnel of yers?"
Daryl was still standing right next to Bob, who seemed to be in shock. The hunter figured that the best way to get the old man to move was by following Connor, so he did. The two friends started walking and the younger of the two walked a bit faster so he could be next to the Irishman. Daryl kept turning his head every once in a while, to make sure that Bob was keeping up. Their guide was walking behind them and stared to the ground, while he was manically talking to himself. It weirded the hunter out, so he approached Connor.
"Don't you think we should lose him? The guy lost it" he muttered and both friends turned their heads to look at the old man.
"Months of this shit! And now they gotta turn up. Now they gotta...I'm sorry my boy, oh Eth, I wish you could see 'em if only...ah, fuck! Why'd they have to come now...just three months...three fuckin months and I could've..." Bob kept talking to himself.
Connor shrugged and stared straight ahead.
"He knows his way 'round town."
Daryl snorted.
"Yeah, remember last time some crazies learned about your immunity bullshit?"
The Irishman rolled his eyes.
"Aye. I do. And I remember that they outnumbered us big time back then. Now look at us. He's all on his own, and he's an old fella. Nothing we can't handle. He can get us to that group a lot faster, and this way we don't have ta wander about te city without knowing where te fuck we're supposed ta go. What's te matter, I thought ye couldn't wait ta get my ass to this hospital?" Connor answered and sounded pissed and maybe a bit bitter, which made Daryl tense.
"Look, I know I said some pretty.." he answered but got interrupted when Bob suddenly called out.
"Stop" the old man demanded and both friends turned around.
"This is us" Bob said and pointed at another alley.
He disappeared around the corner and Connor and Daryl followed him, their conversation completely forgotten.
When they entered the alley both friends stopped walking in surprise, because they could see their guide on the ground, hovering above a gully.
"No fuckin way" Connor said as he watched Bob getting rid of the cover.
The old man started climbing down and then looked at Connor with a raised eyebrow.
"You really are a fuckin pansy, aren'tcha? This'll get yah right past the guards and into the parking garage of their building."
"No fuckin way. I'd rather fucking walk" Connor repeated and frowned angrily, because there was no fucking way he was going to through a sewer system that hadn't been cleared and cleaned in ages. He'd seen it in the movies all the time. He wasn't a diva, and there were many things he didn't give a fuck about, and it wasn't like he minded getting his hands dirty, but even he drew a fucking line somewhere.
Daryl threw his crossbow over his shoulder and headed for the gully as well, which made his friend protest even more.
"Eh, come on! There's gotta be another way for Christ's fucking sakes!"
Daryl, who was half way down, raised his head and looked at the Irishman with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't be a sissy about it. You scared of the dark or something, you pussy?"
Connor snorted.
"No, but I know enough about fuckin hygiene and shit to know that sewers are a bad fuckin idea, and I'd rather shoot a couple 'a soldiers than...hey!" he called out, because Daryl just rolled his eyes and climbed down so they wouldn't lose Bob. Connor was now standing all alone in the alley and kept staring at the hole in disbelief. He turned around and scratched his eyebrow. There was no one there, he was all alone in a dark alley in a fucking ghost town, but for a moment he still actually considered going on his own.
"Leprechaun!" he could hear the echo of Daryl's voice and then looked back at the gully, only to let out an angry groan.
"Jesus fuckin..." he muttered and then followed the other two with an annoyed headshake.
He landed inside the muddy and stinking water with a loud splash! and let out a disgusted groan. He was now facing everything he'd pictured. Dark, dirty water. Rotten feces. Trash. Toilet paper, and the smell, oh the fucking smell. He wanted to throw up. Connor pulled a face and grabbed his shirt so he could drag it up and use it to cover his mouth and nose, but that still wasn't enough. He waded through the water that reached all the way up to his hip and then made his way over to the side-walk, where Daryl and Bob were waiting for him. Connor kept his arms up as high as possible so he wouldn't get his hands dirty, but when he looked down on himself he wrinkled his nose yet again, because he could see how the dirty water was drenching his jeans and now shirt.
He was so going to burn that shit, and he so didn't care if he had to run around naked because of that. There was no fucking way he would smell that any second longer as soon as they got out of here, although it almost felt like his skin sucked up all the smell and buried it deep inside his every cell. He climbed out of the water and then got up, only to give both Daryl and Bob an angry stare.
Happy? it said, then Daryl moved closer to him and wrinkled his nose.
"You stink like hell" he noticed and Connor gave him his best bitch face.
"Hardy fucking har" the Irishman answered and walked past his friend, so he could shove his shoulder against his chest on purpose.
Daryl stumbled a bit, but couldn't fight the amused chuckle that escaped his mouth.
"Fuck you" Connor answered and followed Bob, who had started walking and was now leading them through the maze that was the sewer system.
It only took Connor a couple of minutes until he got even more pissed, because rats suddenly came running right at them, stumbling over their shoes and making the Irishman kick and groan in disgust.
"Jesus fuckin Christ" he exclaimed and pulled his Beretta to aim it at one of the animals, simply because he was so fed up with everything right now. He hit it but regretted pulling the trigger, because the shot echoed through the small tunnel, ringing in their ears and startling Bob.
"Have you lost your goddamn mind?!" the old man snapped and shoved Connor, who stumbled back and nearly caused Daryl to fall into the water.
Connor caught his balance and then pointed at the rat he'd shot.
"Just look at that shit! 's the size of a fuckin pony that is!" he tried to justify his behavior, but that didn't seem to make Bob any more understanding.
The old man shook his head and turned around to keep walking.
"Jeez, can't wait to get rid of you two idiots!"
"Yeah, same fuckin here" Connor muttered and followed Bob again.
They didn't speak for a long time after that. Daryl, who was walking right behind Connor, staring at his friend's back from time to time, thinking about how he should probably apologize just to make the Irishman less bitchy, but for some reason he couldn't get himself to do it. There were too many awkward topics connected with that day, stuff that Bob didn't need to hear about. No one needed to know about. So they all kept walking, until it was the old man who broke the silence.
"How long since you got bit, boy?" he asked and Connor looked up, knowing that Bob was talking to him.
It took him a while to answer, because the memories were still painful and horrifying, but he figured that the dude deserved to know, especially since he was the one saving them and getting them through Augusta to keep them from getting killed.
"First time was 'bout eight or nine months ago."
Bob turned his head to look at the Irishman with a frown.
"First time?"
Connor nodded.
"Aye. Second time was 'bout a month ago. Long story, and I ain't gonna fuckin talk about it."
Bob snorted.
"Lucky you" he muttered and shook his head.
"Couldn't've gotten your ass here three months ago, could you?"
Connor frowned.
"And why's that?"
"Long story. And I ain't gonna fuckin talk about it" Bob repeated and the Irishman chuckled, because he liked their back and forth.
The old man sighed.
"First time they talked about the other kid I didn't believe it because it is so damn ridiculous" he said and looked at Connor again.
"Even now 'm havin a hard time believin it" he went on, which made Daryl snort.
"Yeah, we've seen that" he remarked, but both Connor and Bob ignored him. So he kept talking, because being ignored made him angry.
"You know anything about the other kid?" he asked and looked to their right, because he thought he'd heard something
Bob shrugged.
"Don't know much. I was already out of there when he got there. Got ambushed just like you, couldn't not hear it. It was a damn mess back at some shopping center where they used to get their supplies. Think he came all the way down here , he was from somewhere up North? Heard the broadcast, got here..and ran away again."
Connor frowned because once again he didn't like hearing that he wasn't the only 'special' one.
"How old was he then?"
"Stuff I heard, just 'bout your age? Hell, I don't know nothing about that. Just like I said, didn't even believe it. I thought it was another one of them stories just t'get more people here to recruit more soldiers to keep up their shitty defences."
"Well, guess that worked pretty well then didn't it?" Daryl muttered and Connor snorted, although he didn't want to.
All three men froze when they heard the sudden and loud sound of something moving in the water. Not just something, many things. Then they heard the echo, the groaning and moaning, coming from somewhere to their right. It was coming closer and closer, the splashing and splashing, like fish that were fidgeting on the water surface. Connor, Daryl and Bob looked at each other with wide eyes.
"Oh shit" Connor gasped, and Daryl hit his shoulder angrily.
"Because of your fuckin gunshot, you asshole!"
"Oh fuck you, it came right fuckin at me!" Connor protested as he turned around and shoved Daryl back.
"I don't exactly want to interrupt your goddamn sandbox brawl, but I think we should get a fuckin move on!" Bob whisper-shouted at the two friends and hit Connor's shoulder.
The Irishman turned around to snap at the old man then, but a loud growl and maybe even scream startled them once more. They looked to their right where another tunnel branched off from the one they were in, and then they could see them, countless undead, some of them with swollen limbs and faces that were full of water, who were staggering in their direction, all pressed together in the small tunnel like a tidal wave.
"Oh shit!" Connor yelled once again, and although he knew that the undead probably wouldn't attack him or his friend, he still didn't fancy getting surrounded and crushed to death by a herd of walkers in such a tight area.
"Move!" Daryl roared and then all three men started running at once.
"How far is it?" Connor yelled and jumped to the other side of the canal, since Bob wasn't moving fast enough for his liking.
"Ain't too far now! Just eight more turnings!"
"'Just' eight?" Connor exclaimed in disbelief and turned around to see where the walkers were.
He was even more surprised when he noticed that for some reason, although they were running, the undead were still pretty much right behind them.
"Listen, sunny!" Bob suddenly yelled, which made Connor turn his head so he could look at the old man.
"You listen carefully now...!" the old man went on and was already out of breath from the running.
"I'm gonna lead 'em away from y'all, and you get your ass to that lil crew and find a goddamn cure!"
"Te fuck I'm doing!" Connor yelled back, because there was no way he was leaving an old man behind.
"We can't have 'em pile up in those guys' freakin cellar! Just...think about it!" Bob said and started coughing.
It sounded like he could hardly breathe from all the running, and he was running more slowly which each second that passed.
"Come on, get a move on!" Daryl roared and tried to shove the old man forward to get him to run faster.
Bob staggered and kept going, but it was obvious that he didn't stand a chance on a straight track like that.
"I know my way around here, I can lead 'em away but you gotta listen!"
"Then fucking talk!" Connor roared and nearly slipped on the wet stone floor.
"Right, right, straight ahead, left, right, right, left, right!" Bob shouted and Connor looked at him with a confused frown.
"What?!"
" Right, right, straight ahead, left, right, right, left, right, are you fuckin deaf?!" Bob repeated and Daryl jumped to the right, so he was right behind Connor.
"I got it!" he yelled and Bob gave them a final nod, only to start yelling and scraping his machete along the wall.
"Come on you filthy bastards!" he roared and made as much noise as possible, until they reached another junction.
"Now, go right!" Bob roared and then suddenly disappeared in a tunnel to their left.
Connor watched him disappear in surprise, until they could only hear the noise he was making, but then Daryl suddenly shoved him to the right, into another tunnel, where he stumbled and fell down.
"Fuck!" he exclaimed and tried to shout after Bob, but then Daryl suddenly pressed his hand to his mouth, grabbed his torch to turn it off, and then dragged him further inside the tunnel, the dark. Now they were just sitting there, Connor's back pressed to Daryl's chest, hand muffling the Irishman's words, both men breathing heavily. They still heard Bob's rattling, shouting and footsteps that echoed through the tunnels but got quieter, then the splashing and groaning got louder, as the undead staggered past their tunnel, and inside the one Bob was using to get away. Daryl still wouldn't stop pressing his hand to Connor's mouth although the Irishman didn't intend to say anything anyway, and he was slightly annoyed by the fact that he could hardly breathe and how Daryl's hand tasted and smelled like the freaking sewers. It took a while until all the walkers had passed their hideout and staggered after Bill, who they could hardly hear now.
Daryl finally let go of Connor and stopped holding him down. The Irishman let out an angry grunt as he got up and sorted his clothes.
"Jesus fuckin Christ" he growled and walked outside the tunnel to check if there were any more walkers.
When he couldn't see any he turned around so he could glare at Daryl. He pointed at the other tunnel and got angry.
"We can't just use te old fucker as bait, man. We could've taken 'em all on. It wouldn't have been a fuckin problem fer te both of us. We didn't fuckin need protection from these fucks, he did."
"He don't need any help. He's gonna be just fine" Daryl just said and then turned around to start walking.
Of course Connor wouldn't thank him for probably saving his ass from a herd of walkers.
"We should go after him" Connor said and Daryl shook his head.
"No we ain't. We don't know our way 'round here. He does. We'd just get lost. We didn't come here to save an old man's ass. We came here because of that hospital crew. Gettin all of us killed ain't gonna help no one. We gotta focus and stop bein stupid."
Connor snorted and finally followed his friend after wiping his face with an angry sniff.
"Aye. Do remind me one more time how my fuckin immunity is more important than anything or anyone else."
Daryl turned around to look at his friend in surprise. And maybe he was just as angry. Connor stared at him as he reached for his knife.
"I get it" Connor said, looking angry and stressed, then he walked past Daryl without saying another word.
They reached the exit after walking around the maze of tunnels for what felt like hours. Although both men had agreed on having heard the same directions they soon doubted they were on the right path, because the distance between each junction was sometimes large, sometimes short, and just when they were about to give up and get up some random ladder they finally found it, a heavy steel door that seemed to lead outside and that was at the end of a pretty long tunnel with a concrete floor. There was no more water here and it looked a bit less filthy so they were pretty sure they were right. They found the door locked so Connor had to shoot it open, and soon they found themselves in some sort of dark boiler room. They could hear that some of the engines were still running, and when they saw that the emergency lights were on they were even more certain that this was the right place.
Electricity. Generators that ran on gas. Gas that people needed to collect and put inside the generators. People, who needed light. Connor and Daryl's previous fight was soon forgotten, because they needed to focus, because they knew that people meant danger. Goodies or not. As soon as someone had a gun on them this could mean trouble, so they grabbed their own weapons and concentrated on every so slight movement. Both men didn't need words to work together, they coordinated and synchronized their movements by giving each other simple nods and gesturing with their hands.
They made their way to the other door, knowing that this had to be their way out, and Connor really hoped that he didn't have to fire another shot. He grabbed the door handle and then looked at Daryl to make sure that he was alright. The hunter was standing right next to the door, back pressed to the wall, crossbow in his right hand with an arrow loaded, ready to shoot. The younger of the two friends nodded and then Connor pulled the door open, only to groan because some bright light blinded him.
"Jesus" he muttered and shielded his eyes.
"FREEZE!" came the order. Before he got the time to adjust to the light or simply shoot his gun he could already feel how someone kicked his knee and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He was forced on his knees and was left no other choice but to throw his hands in the air.
"All right! All right!" he exclaimed and someone grabbed his Beretta from his hand.
"Get your hands off him!" he heard Daryl roar and when his eyes finally adjusted to the brightness he could see that he was facing at least ten soldiers, who were pointing their heavy rifles right at him. He could hear what sounded like a fight that was going on right behind him, and then there was the clicking of countless guns.
"I'm immune!" he yelled to keep them from shooting him or his friend.
"I'm immune" he repeated and then looked at the soldiers with wide eyes. He couldn't see their faces because they were all wearing helmets and masks. He could see them clearly now. Full army clothing, heavy rifles, far superior than him with his guns and Daryl with his silly crossbow. He heard how the hunter wouldn't stop cursing as they forced him to his knees right next to him, but Connor kept going. He slowly moved his hands down so he could get to the collar of his shirt.
"I said freeze!" one of the soldiers roared and they got closer to him.
"I just wanna show ye!" Connor yelled and then yanked the collar of his shirt down so they could see the healing wound, the angry flesh, the stitches, the red and burning scar. The soldiers froze and just looked at him, then three of them turned their heads in the direction of the one right in the middle.
"Sir.." one of them said and then Connor used the time to turn his left arm around so he could show the other scar, the one that looked like two directly opposed U's.
"I'm immune" he repeated once again.