Chapter 3
-Lexi-
Three hours later Lexi crept out of her house armed as well as she could manage and began to make her way towards the general store.
After the incident with Merle, the Governor, not wanting the reputation of his best lieutenant soiled, had instructed the infirmary to give Lexi access to whatever she needed to manage Caitlyn's new break. With the exception of a few terrible times, Lexi had been able to limit it to the occasional Zanex. But after deciding to go for the prisoner Lexi realized sedatives might be her best shot. She had walked straight in and convinced Doc Lewis that the gun shots had set off another of Caitlyn's episodes.
Overwhelmed by the number of gun shot victims crowding her operating room, the doc hadn't hesitated to wave Lexi on, giving her free reign of the back room. She'd left ten minutes later, guiltily hiding five of the six syringes under her wind breaker and carrying a bottle of Zanex. Lexi had always liked the Doc for everything she'd done for Caitlyn, but this was their only chance.
Armed with her sedatives and two kitchen knives she quietly opened the door to the
general store, praying that luck was on her side.
Mercifully, the bottom three floors of the store were completely abandoned. She had had a feeling from the moment she saw them drag him into the store that he'd be kept in he attic office. With the number of men she'd seen in the infirmary she would be surprised if they had enough people to spare from the wall to provide even one guard overnight. Despite her uncertainty, she knew she couldn't climb the last staircase without finding out.
Standing at the bottom of the staircase to the attic, she stood clutching an open syringe in one hand and a light bulb in the other. Hoping the noise would be enough to draw down any guard that was stationed by the prisoner, but not enough to raise a general alarm, Lexi stretched out her trembling arm. Knowing that after this there would be no turning back she exhaled, and dropped the bulb.
-Daryl-
The tinkling of breaking glass woke him from the stupor he'd allowed himself to slip into after three hours of being tied up to the radiator. His entire body ached, and the press of the cold metal at his back did nothing to help, but with the faint sound all drowsiness and thoughts of his own discomfort vanished.
He heard the guard on the other side of the door rise and begin to walk the length of the crowded room outside his. just as he had before he counted out approximately twenty steps before he heard the man begin to lumber down the stairs. Inwardly he cursed himself for falling into a stupor in the first place. Had he been paying fucking attention, he might have heard whatever, or whoever it was that broke the glass approaching downstairs. As it was, he was left straining his ears listening as his captor reached the bottom stair and the platform below.
He heard the further crunching of glass, and then what sounded like a muffled gasp. Something hard hit the floor below. For a moment there was complete silence and then he heard the faint sound of something heavy being slowly dragged along the ground.
Am I being rescued? he thought with amazement. While a rescue seemed to be his only chance of survival, the uncertainty surrounding the chain of events that was unfolding was too substantial for him to feel anything but overwhelming suspicion. There was no way the group had made back to the prison and back into the compound in three hours. Glenn was badly beaten, and needed medical treatment, so hanging around and doubling back wouldn't have been an option either.
Besides, of 'em can stay quiet worth a damn, Daryl thought, straining his ears again as he heard a faint creaking coming from the stairs once again. Someone was definitely out there, and moving a hell of a lot quieter than his jailer had minutes before.
Merle can be quiet when he wants to be, he reasoned with himself. Still he doubted his brother would have dispatched one of the henchmen who'd turned on him without getting a final word in. Not gloating simply wasn't Merle's style.
Who the fuck is it? His mystery rescuer had reached the top of the stairs now, and was making their was through the crowded room. The hunter in him began to count, even as his chest began to tighten with adrenalin.
One, two, three...
Maybe it was that crazy black chick? The one who'd brought them here? Still, why the fuck would she agree to fly solo on a rescue mission for him? Whoever this was the were definitely alone, at least within the building.
Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen...
The anticipation was killing him. Whoever the fuck it was they were taking their sweet ass time. Finally he heard the sound of something sliding between the door and the doorframe, the distinct click of a successfully picked lock, and the rusty turn of the old door knob. As he heard the door creak open and felt the breeze of cooler air from the hallway enter his prison, he could bare it no longer.
"Who the fuck's there?!"