New chapter! I usually wait for a couple more reviews and hits on the previous chapter, but I seriously just couldn't wait any longer.

First of all: thank you for more than 200 reviews so far! You're the best! Please keep them coming, don't be shy! =)
Second: Lots of jumping around in this chapter, I hope it's not too confusing. I just wanted to wrap things up nicely without dragging it out too much.
Third: At first I had absolutely no clue how I was supposed to make this work, but after playing the TWD game again to help my inspiration a bit the idea suddenly struck me, and although it could be a bit cheesy and too 'easy' I still chose to write it this way because I thought it was a very typical thing for Boondock Saints, and that it tied in very nicely with the beginning of this Walking Saints series (first chapter of Salvation, I mean).
Fourth: this is the 23rd chapter of this fic. Nice little trivia: Chapter 23 of my fic 'Retribution' (the first fic of this series) is the chapter where Connor leaves Murphy behind in Boston. And this chapter...well ;)

I hope you like they way I handled things, don't be too hard on me, and I promise that it isn't over yet. =)

Resurrection

Chapter 23 - Stairway To Heaven

33 days ago...
May 28th 2008, 2:59pm, Hospital Morgue, Savannah, Georgia

Murphy was sitting in his corner, resting on the old mattress on the ground as he kept scribbling on his spare sheets of paper. It wasn't like he was still sleeping here, now that the group had grown on him and accepted him he was actually sleeping with the others on the beds of the body refrigerator, no matter how freaky it really was.

But he had kept the mattress in the corner by the elevator, so he could use it as his personal little corner and keep his distance from the rest of the group from time to time. Being down here with them was rather nice, but since there were only two and a half rooms for them it was pretty hard to get some alone time sometimes.

The younger MacManus had been quite surprised when he suddenly felt the urge to draw something, but it had soon turned out to be one of his favourite new hobbies. It wasn't like they had a working television, games or newspapers and magazines down here anyway, and when he wasn't busy looking after their supplies or keeping their morgue clean he liked to keep himself busy with something.

There were a couple of books down here and it certainly wouldn't be a problem for him to get new ones from the old stores back on street level, but since he still had some trouble reading longer passages he just stuck to drawing. Even this was still a bit of a problem, because sometimes his hand didn't quite listen to what his brain told it to do, but he was getting there.

So he was sitting in his corner, drawing faces, skylines and whatever came to his mind. Sometimes he just wanted to draw the darkest stuff, get rid of all the demonic faces of walking corpses and trigger happy soldiers, but he tried not to spoil his couple of papers. He stuck to other happier things instead. Lingering shapes, houses and faces in his subconscious. The younger MacManus even recognized some of it. He drew green hills, sheep, horses and tiny huts a lot, and didn't really have to question it. He loved to draw Ireland, what he pictured it to be like, although he really couldn't remember much of it.

Then there were days when he loved to draw sharp, rectangular figures, houses, skyscrapers and old churches, buildings he actually did remember, although they had been on fire last time he had seen them. Boston. During the darker days he liked to draw his old hometown, because no matter how much he actually missed it, deep down there was always pain connected to that city.

However, today was one of the days were he wanted to draw faces. He couldn't remember any of their names although they seemed familiar. Well, he couldn't remember all except for one. The dark-haired man looked at the face on his sheet, the one he tried to fully remember but had a hard time doing so. Not only because of his memory loss, but also because seeing that face hurt.

He was drawing his brother a lot.

He didn't care what it looked like, if he looked like he had been drawn by a five year old or if it was a true Picasso, he just wanted to give that man a face. He wanted him here, with him, face to face, although part of him still didn't know if he wanted him here just to stare at him and hate him, yell at him for shooting and leaving him, or if he wanted Connor's face with him just so that he was -with- him. So he didn't feel too alone. And so that he wouldn't forget him.

"Who's this?" he heard a voice say and startled. Murphy looked up in surprise, only to see Brie standing right in front of him, hand resting on her hip as she looked down on him and even smiled a bit. The younger MacManus just looked at her, frowning a bit, because he wasn't too sure if she was having him on or if she really decided to play nice. "'s nothin" he answered and quickly put the drawings away, to hide them from her and everyone else in the group. Brie just stood there and watched him for a while, noticing how wary Murphy was, so she turned her head to look at her group.

"I just came here to….." she let out a sigh and looked back at the Irishman.

"I'm sorry for treating you like that before. I actually came here to apologize?" she said and kept looking at him.

Murphy eventually realized that she was being honest, so he awkwardly shifted a bit, scratched his nose and then smirked a little.

"Aye" he just said and Brie nodded.

"It's just that..we've lost many good people to others who were basically strangers to us."

Murphy looked at the woman, seeing regret, pain, but also anger. He nodded slowly.

"Gracie?" he asked gently and Brie looked a bit surprised at first, but then nodded.

"Yeah."

There was a long pause after that, and the woman used the time to look at Joyce, who was sitting on a chair close to the table and kept talking to Vernon with a smile on her face.

"But we all know now that you're not one of them. Part of Crawford, I mean" she said and then looked back at the Irishman.

"We all appreciate what you did for Joyce. Strangers like the ones we've met….they wouldn't do that for a bunch of old and ill people" she said and Murphy smiled.

"Yer good people."

Brie nodded and then offered him a hand.

"Fresh start?" she asked and Murphy examined her hand up close.

He let her wait for a bit, to make her feel uncomfortable for a moment just as payment for treating him like trash before, but then he took the hand enthusiastically and shook it with a grin.

"Aye. Fresh start."

"Welcome to the group" Brie said and let go of his hand with a smile, only to point at his bare right lower arm.

"Now I finally get to ask. You're religious?" she asked and Murphy looked at the tattoo of the cross on his arm. He scratched it a bit and then nodded.

"Aye. Very."

Brie smiled even more.

"That's nice. Me, too" she said and leaned against the wall, so she could keep their 'getting to know each other' conversation going.

"I used to live in Crawford before all this. My parents were proud believers. Sent me to a Catholic School and all that."

Murphy just nodded, feeling the sudden emptiness in his chest yet again. He didn't remember his parents or how he had been brought up, but he supposed that it had been just like that. "Well, maybe we can pray tagether next time" he suggested, feeling a bit awkward around the woman, shyness showing yet again by the way he would scratch his nose or chew on his fingernails. There was yet another pause, as Brie was obviously waiting for him to keep the conversation going, but since Murphy honestly didn't know how to do that without enough alcohol in his blood she started talking yet again.

"Listen, there's another reason why I wanted to talk to you" she said and looked at her group yet again.

Murphy looked at them as well, curiosity showing in his eyes.

"Aye?"

"Vernon and I were just talking about what you did. Back at the hospital, and everything you've told us about your stay in Boston and Augusta. W
e think it's time" she said matter of factly and Murphy frowned.

"Time fer what?" he asked, which made Brie turn to face him.

"Now that we know that we can trust you, Vernon and I have decided to take you with us on our scavenging trips.
We're running low on sanitary articles and need to make a run into town soon."

Murphy just looked at her for a while, not really knowing how to deal with this new information. Weeks of being down here, reading old magazines, drawing pictures, sorting supplies and cleaning toilets and he was finally allowed to step outside again. For days it had felt like the walls were slowly closing in on him, and he had always felt the need to go outside just to see a nice change of setting for once, but now that he was given the opportunity he didn't even know anymore if he really wanted it. His heart started pounding in his chest and he was getting excited, maybe even a bit scared of the possible dangers out there, but then much to his surprise he started to smile.

Fear, danger and trauma aside, he still wanted it. Face the outside world, fight and scavenge.

"'f course. Whatever ye need me t'do and get. I'm in."

16 days ago...
June 14th 2008, 8:00am, River Side, Savannah, Georgia

They were on their sixth supply run when they first heard it. They were pretty close to Crawford, on the other side of the river, which was why they were quite nervous and the sound of ringing bells close by didn't exactly make it easier for them. Brie and Vernon were inside one of the former pharmacies and Murphy kept watch outside when they all first heard it. The rhythmic DING DONG of very old church bells, echoing across the abandoned city of Savannah, the river, right towards them. Murphy had been smoking outside the doors until then and nearly dropped the cigarette, because the sound had startled him. He raised his head and scanned the town to see where the noise was coming from, but couldn't quite make it out. Less than a minute later Brie and Vernon stormed out of the pharmacy.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Brie asked, completely out of breath and carrying few supplies.

Vernon was right behind her, staring into the distance just like Murphy, who was still trying to locate the church.

"I dunno, I was gonna ask ye the same thing!" the youngest of the three of them said but couldn't really make out the source of the ringing.

The bells kept echoing across the river, and Murphy shielded his eyes to get a better view.

"Is that the first time yer hearing this?" he asked and Brie and Vernon moved.

"Ever since the outbreak, of course" Vernon said and Murphy frowned.

"Maybe's someone who needs our help? We should go and look…"

"Don't be stupid. We need to hurry and get back to Clive, Boyd and Joyce. It could be one of Crawfords latest ideas to lure survivors out. A new trap of some sort. What we should be doing is get as far away from this place as possible" she said and started walking, past Murphy and heading for the road that led back to the bridge. Vernon passed the Irishman right after that and placed a hand on his shoulder to squeeze it gently.

"Come on, let's get going. The sun's up already, and we've got to walk back home in broad daylight this time" he reminded the newest member of their group.
Murphy visibly tensed at the touch, because Vernon's hand was right on his healed bite wound, but he tried to hide it and started walking as well.

"Aye" he said, still staring into the distance, eyes fixed on the multiple clock towers of Savannah.

3 days ago…
June 27th, 5:15pm, Hospital, Savannah, Georgia

Murphy was sitting on the roof of the hospital, leaned against the wall, blowing smoke in the air and watching birds fly around. Ever since he had found a pack of smokes in one of the almost empty shops he liked to go up here, for many reasons. The most important one was that he wanted to smoke and wasn't allowed to smoke inside the morgue with cancer patients around. But there were other reasons as well. Although he really liked the group by now, liked the company, he still liked to be on his own sometimes, to dwell on his past, his future, and simply because he liked to be quiet. He'd picked this place because he had been the only one able to close all the elevator doors and keep the walkers inside the hospital, and because he was the only one who could really stay up here without having to fear that he could fall down the emergency ladder inside the elevator shaft, or that walkers could stumble up and eat him.

He also had a perfect view from up here. He could see the river, Memorial bridge, all the neighbourhoods, including Crawford. But he didn't just want to see Crawford, he also wanted to know where all the ringing was coming from all the time. He didn't even know why he was so interested in the church bells, maybe because his subconscious remembered that church had once been very important to him, or maybe he was just curious. Something kept calling him out here, to catch the church bell ringer in the act, to find him and ask him what was up with the ringing.

He didn't care if it was a trap, or if it really were people in need. He just needed to find this freaking church.

Murphy had heard the bells 3 times in total so far, but not once had he been able to actually make the building out. Savannah wasn't too big, but it had enough churches to make the search even more confusing, and that wasn't really the worst part about it. The group didn't want to join him on his search for the bells, and neither did they want him to leave on his own. But the more they urged him to just leave it be the more determined Murphy got, spending more and more time up on the roof with his cigarettes, magazines and drawings, hoping to see the bells moving from up here.

And the mysterious stranger certainly didn't disappoint him that day. He'd been up on the roof for about two hours when he finally heard them ringing again, the first time up on the roof. Murphy widened his eyes and dropped everything he had, to spring to his feed and start running for the binoculars that he kept with him up here. He frantically scanned Savannah's neighbourhood, searching the houses, towers, anything he could find, cursing under his breath and nervously tapping his feet.

"Come on….come on…where are ye" he hissed and looked around, running from one corner to the next. The bell tower right next to the hospital certainly wasn't the one ringing, but he was determined to find the real one. It was important somehow, he needed to go there, maybe find another bunch of people, younger people to keep him company.

"Come on!" he hissed, as he heard how the rhythm slowed down and was about to die.

It was when he almost wanted to give up when he finally saw it, the church, the tower, the moving bells further South-East, and much to his liking - far away from Crawford. "Gotcha!" Murphy exclaimed and moved the binoculars down, hoping to see it without them, but the church was too far away. He still thought to know the neighbourhood, and he was certain about one thing - the next time he heard the bells ringing he was going to head there.

With or without his group.

3 days later
June 30th 2008, 11:32am, Gas Station Near Nathaniel Green Park, Savannah, Georgia

"Maybe he ain't here anymore."

Daryl stared at the man opposite him with a worried frown. His friend looked absolutely miserable by now, disappointment and lack of sleep showing and wearing him down. They had arrived in Savannah two days ago, two days of searching abandoned buildings, avoiding large herds of walkers, two days of noticing how clean the city was apart from the undead. Savannah felt like a ghost town, just like Augusta when they had first arrived there. All the cars were missing tires and parts, all the shops and houses had been looted a long time ago, and there were lots of strange signs on practically every door in the surrounding neighbourhood.

Daryl was convinced that Savannah had another fanatic military camp, judging by the freak wall they had found by the river, and he was convinced that all the red symbols on the doors were some sort of military code. And if Savannah hadn't been stripped clean and 'organized' by the military, then there certainly had to be other fanatic groups of people around, people who meant trouble, who were dangerous and who he hated. The hunter really wanted to leave the city because he knew too well that those were to dangerous and a complete waste of time, but he knew that his Irish friend wasn't going to get better by doing that. They needed to stay here, and find freaking Murphy.

Connor was standing by the former counter of the abandoned gas station they used as their temporary hideout, fingers tangled in his messy blonde hair as he was staring at their map of Savannah. Daryl had tried to get him to go to sleep, but ever since they had arrived in this city Connor had just kept working, searching, looking around and planning nonstop. He'd even gone so far to head into the city without the hunter when the latter had been trying to sleep. Something had been driving him for 48 hours straight and Daryl still couldn't believe that they had managed to search at least one quarter of the entire town, but without any luck. The city was clean, there were no tracks for him to pick up on, it was a ghost town apart from that one camp they had discovered back at a district called Crawford.

Daryl just watched his friend a bit longer, really wanting to tell him that they should leave and go back to Woodbury to get more help (and time), but he just knew that Connor really needed him as emotional support right now, needed to be here, needed to find his brother that the hunter hated more and more. The younger of the two friends sighed and walked over to his friend, so he could place a hand on his back and pat him gently, while pointing at the map with his other hand.

"Well, maybe he really is with those guys behind the wall. Haven't checked there yet. I mean, it's plausible. They got defences, maybe they're just like Woodbury.
It's the best option in this city, and if the little shit is smart enough he tried his luck over there when he got here."

Connor snorted and moved away from the counter, out of his friend's reach as he headed for one of the boarded up shop windows.

"Ye saw what those fucks did yesterday. Shootin an entire family up in the middle of the street like fuckin fish in a tank.
There's no way Murph's with people like that" he said and Daryl leaned against the counter, scratching his forehead, trying his hardest not to lose his temper.

"Well, who says they're from past the wall? Could be thugs, like back in Augusta…"

"Ye saw their guns. They had cars. And ye saw the wall and what the place looked like from up above. Those were the guys. They were heading fer the river. There's fucked up people behind that wall of…death, and Murph ain't with 'em. Maybe he left as soon as he saw 'em. Maybe they spooked him after what happened t'him back in Augusta. I…I dunno. He could be hiding up in the hills or…fields…or a farm somewhere around Savannah or….fuck.." he said and sat down on a chair, resting both his arms on the counter and then burying all his fingers in his hair yet again.

He was staring at the surface of the counter, now no longer hiding the fact that he felt miserable and frustrated.
Daryl just stood there, watching his friend cautiously, trying to come up with anything useful to say.
He heard Connor swallow and then sigh.

"'f fuckin course. I was foolish ta believe that we'd just be going here and find 'im right away. 's a big fucking city and just like te many times before my plan didn't fucking work" he said, obviously pitting himself yet again. Daryl tried to move closer, a bit shaky and hesitant, but he still did it.

"Well, I think yah did pretty well. Locating all the relevant shit like stores, pharmacies and places to hide, and then divide the city in hot zones and everything in just two days…" he said and pointed at Connor's countless scribblings and notes, his beyond detailed plan on locating one single person in a larger city. He really admired his friend in that regard, how he had been able to come up with all this in such a short amount of time, to be so rational and logical about it, despite the fact that he was emotionally unstable because of his twin. And oh how that was showing now.

Connor just snorted, obviously not really taking his comment as a compliment. Daryl looked around the store, quite helplessly, and there was a stupid part of him that hoped that Murphy would just jump out of a freaking closet with a green stovepipe hat and start river dancing in front of them while singing 'This is candid camera! I've been here all along!' But of course this wasn't going to happen. His friend's brother remained lost, and Connor remained upset and disappointed.

"Maybe yah should just go to sleep, man" Daryl said quietly, moving awkwardly and trying to be gentle and mature for once.

"Yah ain't thinking straight nomore. There ain't no food, no booze or coffee in you and yah didn't smoke a whole day. Maybe yah just gotta…lie low, give your melon a break and have a fresh start later."

Connor shook his head and grabbed the map again, rubbing his tired eyes and staying where he was.

"No. 's exactly the point. So maybe he's still here, but who's here ta fuckin say that he ain't gonna leave while I'm sleeping? I can't miss 'im.
I gotta come up with a better plan. Maybe we could try…further West. We haven't been t…"

"Connor" Daryl said and grabbed his friend's arm, to keep him from pointing at the map and working even harder. The Irishman raised his head and looked at his friend, who was just nodding and trying to signal that he was supposed to take a break. Connor just kept looking at him, looking incredibly tired and yet determined.

"What would you do if this was about Merle, hm? Just think 'bout how ye felt when ye heard that he was in Woodbury. The same town you were hiding in in that very moment. That there were only a couple of fuckin houses keeping ye from getting him back."

Daryl stilled, remembering that night, the longing, the desperate need to be reunited with his brother after almost a year of being separated from him.
Yeah, he knew exactly what that felt like, that there was no reason to that.

"Yeah, and think 'bout where that mess got us" he muttered and then looked at his friend's shoulder, the shirt that was covering the scar of the second bite wound he'd only gotten because of this night, his foolish move to stay back in Woodbury even with all these crazy people surrounding them. Connor seemed to remember that as well as the expression on his face changed, but then he looked down again and concentrated on the map.

"I don't care."

Daryl tried not to roll his eyes and walked away with an exhausted sigh.

"Murph's sharp. He let me do all the planning, but our minds were pretty much alike" Connor said in the mean time and Daryl clenched his fists, relaxed them, clenched them, relaxed them, clenched them, relaxed them rhythmically to keep his temper.

"I say we check out the rest of the city t'day, sweep the important bits later today and tomorrow once more, and if we don't find 'im then we'll move on. Search the areas around Savannah. Locate farmhouses, woods, clearances, fresh tracks like someone's been on a hunt regularly. Murph is smart enough. If he isn't here then he found himself a nice desolate little place close enough to Savannah, or another larger town so he can come back fer supplies. We just gotta find that place. Or places like tha."

"Yeah, whatever" Daryl murmured and headed for their sleeping bags in the storage room.

He just needed to get Connor out of his sight for a moment, because he feared that he could knock him out cold on purpose, just to get him to shut up and sleep and give him time to come up with a plan of his own. He was halfway down the small aisle when a sudden loud noise startled the both of them. Daryl didn't want to believe his ears at first, because it was too weird to hear something like that in a ghost town like Savannah, but here it was, loud and clear, almost deafening compared to the usual silence they were used to.

Church bells.

There were church bells ringing somewhere in their neighbourhood, and it even sounded like they weren't too far from it. He turned around to look at Connor, just to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating or anything like that, but the Irishman seemed just as astonished. He was looking out of the window to his left so Daryl did the same, walking up to the wooden planks and then peeking through one of the slits. He could see a bunch of walkers out there on the street who were reacting just as much, all slowly turning around in the direction of the noise, staring and then shuffling towards it.

No hallucination. There were definitely church bells ringing somewhere close to them.

"Jesus fuck Christ" he heard Connor say all of a sudden and turned around to look at his friend with a frown.

A tiny part of his brain acknowledged the irony in the Irishman's choice of words right then and there.

"Why didn't I come up with this shit" the blonde said and kept staring out of the window with wide eyes, which made Daryl frown even more.

"What?"

Connor pointed out of the window and looked at Daryl like he was facing a mentally handicapped person.

"Churches!" he exclaimed, but only confused his younger friend even more.

"Yeah, freaking churches usually made noise like that... With y'all fanatic worshipping crap and callin people to mass brainwashing?" Daryl just said, not really getting what his friend was aiming at. Connor jumped up from the chair and suddenly tried to run for the door, but since Daryl was close enough to that he managed to get hold of his friend before he got to do anything stupid.

"Woah, woah, chill out Padre, I think you and I both know that your little head shrinking sessions in places like that stopped a long time ago" he said and tried to hold Connor back, to keep him from running out in the open like a headless chicken without a real plan or cover. Connor suddenly fought him way harder and aggressive than necessary and stared at him with angry eyes. "No, don't you fuckin get it!" he spat and Daryl frowned even more, now seemingly offended by the way he was getting yelled at.

"Sure as hell don't! Just calm down, yah wacko!" he snapped back, but Connor was far from letting go.

"Back when we first met, where did ye fuckin find me? Where did I go when I thought I was all on me fuckin own surrounded by death and danger?" he asked, all excited and almost panicked. Daryl no longer looked angry, he had a blank look on his face as he remembered that day, the day that had burned itself into his memory.

The figure, covered in blood, jeans and pea coat dirty and worn out.
Kneeling in front of the altar with his head down, his shoulder long hair covering his face and making it impossible to see it, just kneeling there, hardly alive and praying.

"A church" Daryl murmured, now slowly understanding what his friend meant.

"We didn't check the fuckin churches, churches were me and my brother's sanctuary fer Christ's fuckin sakes. 's gotta be him" the Irishman said and grabbed the door handle to rip the door open and run outside. Daryl was still momentarily paralyzed by the memories, the noise and all the sudden information, but when he saw how Connor was already zigzagging his way across the street and past the walkers he finally snapped out of it.

"Connor! Wait up you asshole! This could be a trap!" he yelled but Connor wouldn't wait, he just kept running towards the noise.

"Fuckin hurry!" the Irishman spat and then disappeared around a corner.

"Connor! Fuck…" Daryl exclaimed and then ran for their stuff so they wouldn't leave it behind just because his friend was so freaking brainless sometimes. As soon as he had their bag and his crossbow he ran outside the gas station, past the multiple shuffling corpses, after his friend.

the same day, the same time, Hospital, Savannah, Georgia

They were on yet another small scouting mission around town when Murphy suddenly heard the ringing again. The Irishman had secretly urged his small group to keep searching in areas closer to the church, to use exact moments like this to get away and check out who was making the freaking noise all the time. Vernon and Brie didn't even really look up or search the neighbourhood for the source of the noise, they just kept walking, heading for the apartment complex at the far end of the street.

"They just keep trying" Vernon muttered to himself and Brie nodded.

"It's not working, though" she agreed, although the younger MacManus twin wasn't really so sure about it.

He had stopped walking and was falling behind because of that, head turned in the direction of where the Gould Estates were.
Vernon and Brie kept walking for a moment, until they finally noticed his absence and stopped walking as well.

"David?" Vernon asked and Murphy looked back at them, fingers itching, something inside of him craving to be close to that church. It wasn't just the curiosity, to see who was ringing and what they wanted, he also missed being inside churches, the praying, staying there and joining masses, but there was also something else connected to churches and the ringing of those bells, something he could quite put his finger on it.

"We should check out who's ringing those bells" he said matter of factly and looked at both members of his group, who looked terrified and stared at him like he had lost his mind.

"No! We agreed that this is just Crawford! It's too dangerous and we…."

Murphy didn't even really listen anymore, he was staring into the distance, and he could almost feel how his time was running out. Whoever was tolling those bells wouldn't be there too much longer as soon as they stopped ringing. Or maybe they kept tolling them because they were slowly dying, surrounded by walkers without any food or water left. And he was the only one who could probably do something about it. Even if those weren't survivors - if this really was Crawford, then he could check out what they were up to, maybe even integrate that into his plans about breaking into the place and robbing it blind sooner or latter.

"I just gotta see!" he exclaimed and then suddenly started running, maybe even regretting it a bit because he didn't want to leave Brie and Vernon behind, but also because he feared that they wouldn't let him in later. But he still kept running, ignoring their shouting. He was doing it for them after all, for the greater good, maybe even for Savannah. So Murphy ran even faster, towards the church, heart pounding faster and faster, although he didn't even know why.

Fifteen minutes later, the Church

Murphy burst through the door and had a frantic look around, only to close the doors shut behind him yet again. More and more walkers were showing up all around the building, drawn in by the noise the bells were making. It wasn't like he feared the walkers, but he knew that other survivors feared them, that they were trying to get away from them no matter what. It had been pretty easy to get inside the church and that confused him a bit. The doors weren't barricaded, just closed, which was pretty uncommon for places that people usually used as hideout.

"Hello?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the halls of the church and making a couple walkers turn around.

The undead were staggering around the place that had once been holy, but other than them there was no one else here.

But the bells were still ringing.

Murphy raised his head, confusion written all over his place because he couldn't find anyone, he could just hear them.
Maybe they're still up there, he thought and started running yet again, down the aisle, eyes fixed on the ceiling and ignoring the walkers around him.

"Hello!" he called once again and searched the halls for a bit, until he could finally find the door with the sign 'historic bell tower' on it.

It was closed, which made the whole thing even more suspicious, but Murphy really wanted to find someone, find out who was ringing the bells, so he ran for it and cursed at the sight of so many stairs. Stairway To Heaven, a once famous tune he didn't really remember but that still started playing in his head suddenly came to his mind and then he ran for it with a huffed "Fuck it". The bells weren't on a timer, not so irregularly, not just once a day, and certainly not after so many of months of being without electricity or anyone to look after them. Someone had to be tolling them. He jogged up the stairs, completely out of breath by now, his old shoot wound pounding and making his entire head ache with every step that he took, but he kept running until he finally, finally reached the tower where the bells had stopped ringing by now only to find…

Nothing.

No people. No Crawford. No one who wanted to surprise kill him, ask him for help, laugh at him.

The bells weren't ringing anymore but swaying still. He was all alone up here, seeing the walkers on the streets who were slowly swarming the place, but he was just with the undead. No holy, no priest, no survivors, the bells still echoing in his memory. He was disappointed at first, searching all around the bells and even inside them just to make sure. The younger MacManus didn't know what he had expected to find, but the entire run, the wondering about it for days and coming up with plans to practically betray his group for nothing?

Maybe it had been the wind, he tried to tell himself, although he perfectly knew that it was calm today. And that Brie and Vernon had obviously told him that they'd never heard it before. He looked up at the sky to check for anything weather wise, and maybe he was even looking for god, asking him if it had been a sign. A sign of what, though? There was nothing here.

He walked another round and felt his heart beating faster yet again. It was the lack of everything that made him feel uneasy about it. No answer. No people. No solution, just nothing. Then he heard the loud slam of doors downstairs, and seconds after that excited and muffled yelling. Murphy froze on the spot, paling as realization suddenly hit him.

It could be one of Crawfords latest ideas to lure survivors out. A new trap of some sort.
What we should be doing is get as far away from this place as possible.

A trap.
The bells had been the cheese. And he was the mouse.
The church was a giant mouse trap.

"Fuck" Murphy hissed and instantly grabbed his gun, hurrying for the stairs to get down before his attackers got a chance to get up here or trap him.
The stairs were his only way up and down and those bastards knew it.

He was so stupid. No surprise his brother had left him for dead. He should've known. He should've listened to Brie and Vernon. And now here he was, all stupid, trapped, all on his own and possibly surrounded by Crawford's citizens, the very people who wanted sick and weak people dead. He tried to make his way down the stairs as quietly as possible, but since they were made of very old wood it was way harder than he thought. Murphy tiptoed his way down, towards the door, fingers clenched around his gun and ready to kill whoever tried to attack him first.

a moment earlier, the church

"I told you this is a stupid idea! He ain't here!" Daryl yelled as he tried to lock the door tight, since he didn't exactly fancy all the walkers from outside in here, ready to crush them to death because of the lack of space. Connor wouldn't listen to him though, he was walking down the aisle towards the altar, eyes skimming each row of church banks, hoping to find his brother. "Murph?!" he shouted and stabbed a walker who was in the way, but couldn't see his twin anywhere. Not hiding. Not praying, not waiting.

"Just forget it, he ain't here! Just look at this place. It's deserted, and it made enough noise to lure people from freakin Atlanta over here!" Daryl shouted and tried to have a look outside one of the heavily decorated windows, to see if anyone else had followed him, not just the walkers. "Won't be long and those wall of death freaks'll turn up and shoot us like that family yesterday!" Daryl hissed and then walked away from the windows, because he didn't want a sniper or other kind of shooter to spot him. He rushed down the aisle of the church, not really paying attention to anything or looking for his friend's brother, he just wanted to get out of this place, fast. So he rushed after Connor, walking faster and faster so he could place a hand on his shoulder and pull him back. The Irishman was staring at the ceiling by now, searching it, as if he was expecting to see his twin hung up like cheap angel statue, but there was nothing there.

"Come on, the bells stopped ringing, there's geeks piling up all around the church and we should…"

"He's gotta be up there. The bells are up there. 'm gonna check out the tower" Connor said and ignored his friend completely, until he started running yet again. He stopped midtrack though when he heard the loud creaking of wood somewhere to their left, behind a door. Daryl froze as well and then both men looked at each other. The hunter instinctively placed a finger on his mouth and then signaled Connor that he was supposed to approach the door from the right side, whereas he was going to approach it from the other.

The Irishman nodded and then did as he was told, crouching down a bit and then tiptoeing his way through the maze of benches, towards the door with the sign 'historic bell tower' on it. Just before reaching it he made eye contact with Daryl yet again, nodding and then slowly grabbing the door handle. He could hear someone moving behind the door, making their way down the stairs, way too cautious and steady to be a walker. The Irishman waited until his friend was with him, standing by the door, aiming his crossbow right at the wood and ready to shoot who ever was behind it. When the hunter gave Connor a final nod the older of the two friends finally pressed the handle down, ripping the door open and then aiming his gun at whoever was waiting.

He wasn't to surprised to face the muzzle of a gun. That he'd been expecting. What he hadn't expected to see though, wasthat face.

"Drop yer guns or I'm gonna shot yer fuckin Crawford ass all the way back t'where yah fuckin came from!" greeted them the angry voice of a person who kept moving his gun back and forth between the two friends. Connor just stood there, a shocked, horrified and strange expression on his face like he'd just zoned out completely, unable to hear or process anything. Daryl widened his eyes in shock as well but wouldn't lower the crossbow. For a moment he fixed his eyes on the person in front of him, and it really felt like he was staring in a mirror.

The man opposite him seemed just as taken aback by the encounter, the resemblance, but before he or Daryl got the chance to actually say something they both heard a loud thud next to them, which made them both turn their heads. Connor's guns were lying on the ground where the Irishman had dropped them a second ago, and when Daryl finally fixed his eyes on his friend's face again Connor finally reacted.

"Murph?"

extra note that I didn't want to write about before: the church bells ringing isn't some godlike 'fate/destiny' thing, like 'god' wanted them to meet.
the ringing is explained in the telltale game, and I don't wanna spoil you, I just wanted to say that the church bell person won't turn up in my fic ;)
It remains a 'mystery' to our characters. Or who knows, maybe it is 'god's will' after all ;D But it was such a nice touch that I just had to use it.