setting: episode 4 "Killer Within"

Damnation

Chapter 22 - Hide And Seek

"It's about time!"

Connor startled awake. The first thing he noticed was that the annoying beeping had eventually stopped.

"What now, yer gonna lie there ferever?"

"What the..?"

He blinked a few times, but no matter how many times he did it, the view wouldn't change. He was staring up at an incredibly beautiful blue sky.
Only a couple of small clouds were slowly drifting away, and when he turned his head he could see that he was surrounded by long blades of grass.
He huffed when something heavy landed on his chest and his instincts kicked right in. Panic washed over him. The walkers! The prison! The...

"Kept me waiting fer way t'long, dickhead!"

Connor blinked once more when a face swam into view, only a couple of inches away from his.

"What?"

The little boy hit his chest and giggled.

"Earth t'Connor. Earth t'Connor. Please respond."

The Irishman widened his eyes in pure shock.

"Murph?"

The little boy grinned, revealing a missing baby tooth. He hit the back of his head.

"What dream cloud are ye on? I thought we was gonna play hide and seek. I've been waiting forever! You promised you'd come and play with me!"

Connor groaned and rubbed the back of his head. He had the worst headache in his life, and Murphy's slaps weren't exactly making it any better.

"But..."

"Come on!" his little brother yelled and grabbed him by his hands to pull him up.

It was then when the older MacManus saw the difference, his brother's hands were ever so little and fragile, whereas his were the mere representation of his age, big, hard and rough, the tattoo on his finger clearly visible on his pale skin. His twin eventually pulled him back on his feet, although Connor was groaning and protesting because of the pain in his head. Murphy seemed to be life itself, all young and running around and giggling and talking.

"Come on! Come on! Come on! You gotta close yer eyes and count t'thirty! You promised you'd come and play with me!"

The dark-haired MacManus hit his brother every once in a while as he ran around him.
Connor scratched the back of his head with a confused frown and let his gaze wander. They were in the middle of the meadow close to their home.
He could see their village, their house just down the hill.

"You promised you'd come! Kept me waiting and waiting... come on now!"

Murphy giggled and hit him again and again. Connor looked at the little boy in front of him, who was only half as tall as him.
He could see the scratches all over his twin's face, the bruises on his arms he had because of all their running around and playing cops and robbers.

"Murph..I.." the older MacManus murmured and was even more confused.

Where the fuck was he? What the fuck was going on? Where were all the..? He frowned. All the what? He didn't even know what he was supposed think anymore.

Murphy grabbed his arms again and started shaking him.

"Please don't keep me waiting anymore! You promised. Please, Connor, please!"

The older twin finally smiled and stroke his little brother's head.

"Okay, Murph, okay. What do y'want me t'do then?"

Murphy grinned, his blue eyes gleaming with joy.

"Close yer eyes and count t'thirty."

Connor sighed and did as he was told.

"Okay...one.."

He could hear how his younger half giggled and ran away.

"Two...three...four..." he counted and took a deep breath. The air was so clean, smelled and tasted so good that it made him forget everything.
Why had he been so scared, so terrified? He was with his brother. Of course he was. He remembered it now. He had promised him to come and play with him.
Murphy had been the first to finish homework and had run off on his own. To prepare something, something secret. He remembered it.
He had promised that he wouldn't let Murphy wait for too long and that he would join him as soon as possible.

"Five...six...seven...eigh.."

He startled when the image of a terrible face with wide gray eyes flashed before his own. A second later he could hear loud squeals and groans.
Connor gasped and placed a hand on his forehead when the pain got worse.

"Ei...eight...nine...ten..."

He gasped when he saw another terrible creature, if only just for a split second, and when he resumed counting each number was underlined by an incredibly annoying beeping.

"T..ten...eleven..."

Beeeeep. Beeeeep.

The blonde MacManus groaned and fell to his knees.

"Twelve..."

"No! Connor!"

His eyes snapped open when he heard the sound of his brother's voice, how terrified Murphy sounded.

"Murph!"

He gasped in horror when he saw how their surroundings had changed. The sky was dark and flickering in dark shades of red every couple of seconds,
the crops and grass all around them was no longer green but rotten, and the smell, oh the smell...

"Connor!"

He could see Murphy standing there, about 200 feet away from him.
Strange people were staggering in his direction, like the old men they knew from their uncle's pub, people who had been drinking too much.

"Murphy! Come back here! Get away from them!" he spat and got back to his feet.

He didn't even know why he was so terrified all of a sudden.
They were just drunk people, right? Drunk people were all around them all the time, hell, even their mother was drunk all the time...
Little Murphy watched how they came closer, then he turned his head and looked at his brother again.

"Connor! Come on! You promised! You promised you'd come so we could play t'gether! You gotta come t'me!"

The older MacManus started running, but he knew that he wouldn't get there in time. The staggering people were heading for his younger half, reaching out and making the most terrible noises. What made it even worse was the fact that the soil underneath his feet was so muddy, and he stumbled and almost fell multiple times.

"Murph! Ye gotta come back here! Run!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, but his younger half still wasn't moving, and the others were getting closer and closer and closer..

"Connor!" he could hear how terrified his twin was.

"Connor, you gotta come here!" he screamed and looked at the staggering figures again, but when the older MacManus was just about to reach out for his younger half he suddenly slipped on the mud and fell on his back. All the air was pressed out of his lungs and he was staring at the dark, no, black sky, flares of red flashing every couple of seconds.

"Murph! Come back t'me! You gotta come t'me, I can't fuckin move!" he yelled when he realized that his legs were no longer following his orders.

The pain in his head got worse and worse, and he could hear the footsteps of the other staggering people coming closer and closer.

"Murph!" he called out once more and huffed when something fell on top of him again. He raised his head and let out a relieved sigh.

"There you are, ye came back" he gasped and stroke his twin's black hair.

He kissed his forehead shakily and clung to his brother as if his life depended on it, which it actually did.

"Yer with me now. You came back t'me.." Connor repeated and pulled a face when his younger half suddenly moved very close, their noses almost touching and...
The older MacManus yelped in surprise when he saw that the blue in his brother's eyes was gone, he was staring at cloudy gray eyes and...

Beeeeep. Beeeep.

Connor groaned and blinked a few times. Why was Murphy so..

Cloudy gray eyes were staring at him wearily and dead. The Irishman could hardly breathe because of the weight on top of him.

"Murph..?" he croaked and the eyes, no the face moved even closer, sniffing and shifting. And the smell...

The Irishman was wide awake in a matter of seconds and couldn't hold back the cry of sheer terror that escaped his mouth. Now he remembered where the beeping was coming from, why everything was so dark and red, where he was, and what was lying on top of him. The undead seemed confused because of his sudden movement and cry, and for a second it looked like it was getting into attack mode. The undead snarled and bared his teeth and moved even closer so that his and Connor's nose were actually touching. The Irishman groaned and turned his head away in disgust. He could feel how the undead prisoner was clutching to his shirt and started sniffing again, on his cheek, his forehead, right where the damp spot was. Connor realized that he was bleeding because of the fight with Andrew, and his blood seemed to confuse the walker on top of him. The blonde tried not to panic, although it was quite hard to achieve. The undead was heavy, and he could hardly move because of the weight and the pain in his head. He could see how other walkers were staggering around them, but none of them would look at them.

"Get off me" Connor gasped and tried to shove the undead prisoner away, but the creature just snarled and still seemed unsure what to do, whether it should attack him and bite him or not. "I said get off me" the Irishman repeated but trailed off because the world started spinning again. He could still hear his twin calling and shouting his name in complete and utter terror.

"Connor!"

"Get off.." but the headache made it impossible to move and fight.

The beeping annoyed the crap out of him. Hell, everything annoyed the crap out of him. Why the fuck had this happened? He gave Oscar a death glare. He just knew that it had to be those prison scumbags, but Rick wouldn't let him shoot him just yet. Because they needed the guy for the generators, as living map through all the dark corridors. He cursed himself for everything he had criticized on Connor when he had killed Tomas. His friend had been right. They were prisoners. They couldn't be trusted. They should have shot them on sight and they wouldn't be having this goddamn problem now.

Daryl had a flashlight on his crossbow, and Rick was also carrying one but it was still pretty much useless. It was so dark that they could hardly see a thing, and the alarm was driving them even more nuts. Countless thoughts were going through his mind. Where were the others? Where was Connor? Were they okay? What if he was bit again? How was he supposed to handle this shit all over again? Better not be bit or I bash your skull in, you dumbass leprechaun, he thought and punched a wall when he was sure that neither Oscar nor Rick were looking. He cursed himself for all the bullshit he had said to Connor just this morning. The guy had saved his ass and he had thanked him with a shitload of punches, insults and accusations. What if this had been their last words? What if the guy was dead now?

Daryl shook his head and tried not to think about it. Because this was ridiculous. Connor was immune and strong, and even if he had been bit, he still wasn't supposed to care so much, to worry so much. After almost a year and a near death experience he was still fighting his obvious affection, but he knew that it was pointless because in the end he would care and he would be devastated.

Better not be dead, asshole.

The three men stopped walking when they heard the gasps and tearing sounds of walkers who were obviously feasting.
Rick, Daryl and Oscar moved closer to the walls and Daryl leaned his head back for a second.

Please. I ain't the praying type, but please don't let it be him.

Rick nodded and both Oscar and Daryl darted forward, only to stop right in their tracks. They could see two walkers by the end of the corridor, who were kneeling next to a bloody corpse and ate its organs out of its belly. When they noticed their flashlights the undead got up with a growl and staggered in their direction. Before they could even get close Rick started walking again and shot them right in the head.

Don't let it be him, Daryl prayed once more and started walking as well. When they got closer to the corpse they could see that it was T-Dog. No one said anything for a while and they just stared at their friend's mutilated corpse. Of course they felt sad. T-Dog had been with them since..hell, ever since they had formed their group back in Atlanta. But there was a certain part of Daryl, and he wanted to hate himself for thinking like that, that was glad that it was T-Dog and not somebody else. Somebody with whom he had been close. The hunter shook his head sadly and started searching the hallway for any more clues. The door to his right was open, and there was a lot of blood on the ground. What really hit him was the sight of a scarf though, which was lying right next to the pool of blood and guts. The hunter leaned down to grab it. He knew the smell, he knew the look, he knew who it had belonged to. Carol.

He swallowed hard when he saw the blood on it. For a second he just looked at the scarf in his hand, and he was well aware of the looks he was given, but he didn't care. Ever since the Sophia incident he had felt a special connection with her, to an extent where he called her a good friend. She and Connor had always been his favorites, the people who had really mattered to him. And now this.

He was holding her scarf in his hands, there was blood on the ground, they were surrounded by dark corridors and walkers, T-Dog was dead, the others were nowhere to be seen and Connor was... He growled and put the scarf away. "Let's go and switch those goddamn alarms off" he murmured and started walking, because he feared that he would explode otherwise. There was so much sadness, frustration, hatred and sheer anger inside him that he knew that his next fit of anger wasn't too far away. Neither Oscar nor Rick were safe, and he just needed to get out of this place.

They made their way through the endless maze of corridors again.

"Ain't too far now. Just two more corners" Oscar explained and both Rick and Daryl went after him.

"You know how to turn those off?" Rick whispered and the prisoner shrugged.

"I don't know, man. Just been in there a couple of times, but there's instructions all over the place and..."

Daryl hushed them loudly when he heard another bunch of walkers. Both Rick and Oscar nodded and grabbed their weapons tight, then they made their way to the corner in front of them. When they got closer they heard how many more walkers there really were.

"Shit, that's the only way" Oscar whispered and Daryl hushed him again. He looked at Rick and adjusted his crossbow.

"'m gonna have a look" he murmured and took a deep breath.

He could hear them, the dragging of feet, the tired groaning and moaning. The hunter counted down to three and peeked around the corner, only to let out a surprised gasp. He could see a group of about eight walkers by the other corner, and two of them were kneeling next to another body. What really shocked him though, was the fact that he recognized the tattoo on their victim's arm. A shocked "No!" escaped his mouth even before he realized what he had done. Every single walker turned his head and looked at him, but even that wouldn't snap Daryl out of his shock.

"No! Connor!" he yelled and wanted to run for his friend, but then a strong hand grabbed him by his arm.

"We gotta move! Get back!" Rick yelled but Daryl fought his grip in sheer terror.

"No!" he yelled again, the anger and heartbreak eating him up.

"Connor!" he yelled again and Rick started shooting the walkers, but there were too many of them.

"Daryl! We gotta go!" the policeman yelled again and managed to drag him away.

"No! Get up you stupid leprechaun!" the hunter yelled again but couldn't see anything anymore. Not the arm, not the walkers, everything disappeared behind the corner. Rick and Oscar started running, but Daryl managed to free himself. His mind wasn't even working anymore. He saw the image over and over again, his friend lying there on the ground, a walker on top of him, and when he saw a door to his right he reacted instantly. He remembered how Connor had done this sort of thing the first time they had tried to clear out the corridors, so he did just the same now. He hid inside the room and watched how the walkers ran after Oscar and Rick instead. The hunter knew that it was incredibly stupid and selfish to do this, to abandon their leader and the other man like that and use them as bait, but somehow his brain had just stopped working. All he needed to do was stop them from eating his best friend, and he knew he just needed to see him.

The walkers had just passed the room he was hiding in when he stepped outside and started running again. He prepared himself for the worst as he approached the corner, and countless words and things were going through his head. I told you to watch your ass. You're immune you stupid ass. You've got no idea how much you matter to me, you've got no idea how much it hurt the last time you...He stopped in his tracks when he saw the Irishman, how he was lying there on the ground right in the middle of the corridor. There were no guts, no chaos, no...nothing.

"Connor?!" he shouted and ran for his friend, and when he landed on his knees right next to him he could see why he was lying there like that. Connor's eyes were closed, but when he put a hand on his chest he could feel that his heart was still beating and that he was still breathing. There was blood on his face which seemed to come from a wound on his forehead. It looked like the Irishman had been in a fight and had received several punches. Daryl grabbed his head and started hitting his cheek. His heart was pumping because he was so glad that the walkers hadn't managed to eat his friend yet, but at the same time he was worried sick because he didn't have a clue what was wrong with the Irishman, why he was unconscious.

"Hey! Hey, come on, man. Open yer eyes. We're here now. I got yah. Just open yer eyes."

He hit his cheek again and Connor shifted a bit, groaning and blinking a few times.

"Get off.." he mumbled and Daryl chuckled nervously.

"Hey! No no, don't close yer eyes. Wake up, leprechaun."

Connor groaned again and smirked weakly.

"There ye are..you came back.." he mumbled and chuckled tiredly. "Murph..knew you'd come back t'me.."

Daryl growled and hit his cheek hard.

"I said open yer eyes and wake up!" he spat and startled when he heard several shots and footsteps that were coming closer.

Connor was obviously still fighting to stay awake, but Daryl knew that they didn't have enough time. He grabbed the Irishman by his arm to lift him up.
For a second he didn't know where to go, but then he saw the door at the very end of the corridor.

"Let's get in there! We found it!" he yelled and dragged his friend to the generator room.

The beeping was incredibly loud now, but he didn't care. He knew that he needed to get the Irishman someplace save, that someone needed to stop the alarm.