setting: episode 10 "Home"
Damnation
Chapter 37 - Encounter
His luck didn't last very long. Of course it didn't. They had been driving around for only thirty minutes when they were forced to stop the car. They were right in the middle of a bridge which was blocked with at least six or more car wrecks, one of them being a large truck. For a moment the Spanish family and Connor just looked at the mess, and when the father already considered leaving the bridge the Irishman asked him to wait. He didn't want to go back, because he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the prison as possible.
So he got out of the vehicle, taking his shotgun and the kitchen knife and made his way towards the other end of the bridge to see if there was a way through the mess, or maybe even a car he could use instead. There were many clothes and trash lying on the bridge, just like anywhere they had went for the past couple of months. The owners of the clothes and cars had long since disappeared, maybe turned into walkers, maybe dead, maybe still alive. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. What mattered was the fact they needed to get off the bridge.
He still hated to be outside for too long, stuck somewhere with all the undead around them, especially when he didn't own a decent gun anymore. The Irishman really needed to find a new one, although he didn't have a clue where he was supposed to get one. Police stations could be his next target. Or military outposts, barricades. That sort of thing. He just needed to get his shit back together.
Connor had reached the other end of the bridge where a small blue sign told him that the river underneath the construction was the Yellow Jacket. Great. He knew that one. They had passed it more than once on their journey all around the prison, which meant that he definitely needed to keep going. He could see a bunch of walkers coming out of the woods, but right now he didn't really worry about them. What really interested him was a police car, which had managed to go off the street and had raced all the way down the hill, only to collide with a huge rock close to the river. Police cars could always mean ammo, guns and medical supplies.
He turned his head to check on the Spanish family. The father and his son had gotten out of the car by now to check their trunk for something, and since they seemed to be busy the Irishman considered it his chance to check out the crashed car. He carefully made his way down the hill but still ended up slipping every now and then. As soon as Connor had reached the river bed he took another look around. He could see several walkers underneath the bridge, some of them stuck in the mud, others just mindlessly wandering around.
For a moment he just watched them to see their reaction. Two walkers turned their heads to look at him and even let out a snarl, but they didn't try to attack him or moved in his direction. Right. So they were back to this again. The blonde sighed and massaged his aching shoulder for a bit, wondering if the bite had made everything worse or if it was just temporary like last time. It still freaked him out, he still felt like shit, tired, dizzy, in pain and he felt sick like hell, but the fresh air was doing him some good.
He let go of his shoulder and headed for the car, grabbing the knife just in case. The car wasn't too wrecked, which was definitely a bonus. Connor tried the trunk but of course, that one was locked. He sighed and made his way to the driver's door, knife up in the air and ready to stab any possible walker which could be waiting inside. He wasn't surprised when there was indeed someone sitting in there, and he opened the door as silently and carefully as possible. The figure wouldn't move, and sadly it wasn't a police officer either.
It was a young man in maybe his mid twenties, who must have hit his head pretty hard on the way down the hill. The front screen was broken right where the man's head had connected with it, and there was dried blood all over it and the dashboard. The seat belt was still strapped around him. Connor took a look inside the car to make sure that there was no other surprise waiting for him, then he kicked the driver with his foot just to check if he was dead. The figure didn't move so Connor reached out to free him from the belt to get him out of the car. Just then the driver decided to open his eyes again with a tired groan, which nearly gave the Irishman a heart attack.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" he exclaimed and kicked the walker again, who started reaching out for him with throaty groans.
Connor stood there and watched, his mind zoning out completely. Just for a second he was back in the woods, walkers all around him, with him. He could remember their groans and gasps just like the ones he was hearing now, remembered the looks on their faces, remembered all the tricks his stressed mind had played on him.
Help me, he heard the croaked pleas again and raised his head to look at the other walkers under the bridge. They all were staring back at him. No longer wavering about like drunks. They were just standing there, looking at him, pleading him. Help us. Please. Help us. Help us. He heard the whispers of all sorts of voices, whispering to him like witches in a dark forest. And suddenly they were all staggering in his direction, reaching out for him, begging him. Help us.
The whispers sounded dangerous, and they were getting louder and louder, the "s" hissing with every word. And then there was the screaming and shouting, like there were countless people yelling at him at once, echoing all over the river. Connor startled when a hand grabbed his arm. He turned his head only to see that the young man from the car was holding on to him, eyes wide and yellow and milky. Help me.
The Irishman fought the hand off with an annoyed growl and stepped back to stay out of the walker's reach. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to concentrate and breathe. When he opened his eyes again he saw that the walkers weren't coming for him at all, they were still under the bridge, and they weren't looking at him either. Just the walker inside the police car was still trying to get him, but since he was trapped he wasn't going anywhere.
Connor was furious. He hated the whole zoning out thing all the time, hated the freaky hallucination stuff, hated basically everything about that stupid freaking bite. Last time he had been bitten the hallucinations had been a whole lot better, because Murphy had been there, but fucking Murphy was nowhere in sight. The Irishman grabbed the knife and stabbed the walker in the head, then he walked around the car to get inside through the passenger door.
They were making their way through the woods again, now that Merle had agreed to go and look for fish. Daryl knew that there had to be a river close by, the one they had crossed countless times before. It was the same one that was eventually leading back to the prison, but it wasn't like Merle knew about that, did he?
"Smells to me like the Sawhatchee Creek" Merle said as they stumbled through the underbush.
Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"We didn't go west enough. There's a river down there, it's got to be the Yellow Jacket."
And he had thought that walking around with Connor had been bad.
Merle chuckled and looked at him.
"You have a stroke, boy? We ain't never even come close to Yellow Jacket."
Yeah of course. Because Merle, the very man who had spent months in a town like Woodbury, still knew his way around the woods. Right.
"We didn't go west. Just a little bit south. That's what I think" Daryl reminded him carefully, since he didn't exactly want to get in a fight over who had the better sense of direction right now. But Merle wouldn't be Merle if he didn't saw everything as a fight between them.
"You know what I think?" the older Dixon scoffed and Daryl sighed.
Here we go again.
He looked up at the sky when he heard how a bird flew by. For a second he considered shooting it as a meal, but then it was already gone.
"I may have lost my hand, but you lost your sense of direction" Merle said and Daryl looked at him.
It made him angry how his brother kept bringing up his missing hand, like he was trying to make it look like it was all his fault.
Yeah, he knew that his brother was missing a hand. It wasn't like he couldn't see it.
"Yeah, we'll see" he muttered and tried to leave the topic be with that.
But once again his big brother just wouldn't let go.
"What do you wanna bet?"
And there it was. Big brothers deluxe. Just like Connor back then, and now Merle, always with the goddamn annoying bantering.
"I don't wanna bet nothing. It's just a body of water. Why's everything gotta be a competition with you?" he growled and kept walking.
Merle followed him through the woods and started waving around with his arms.
"Woah woah, take it easy, little brother. Just trying to have a little fun here. No need to get your panties all in a bundle."
Just trying t'make new friends.
That had been Connor's perfect answer to everything. Daryl couldn't fight an angry frown. Hours of walking around and he still couldn't stop thinking about this stupid Irishman.
He is gone. Get over it, jackass. Merle's with you now.
And truth be told, Merle wasn't really so different from Connor. He was annoying, loud, stubborn, cocky and basically an ass.
Daryl stopped walking and looked around when he heard the crying of what sounded like a baby.
He tried to make out the source of the noise, and it seemed to come from somewhere right in front of them.
"You hear that?" he asked and his brother stopped walking as well.
They both listened up for a while, then they could hear it again.
"Yeah. Wild animals getting wild" the older Dixon said and Daryl approached him, still looking around.
"No, it's a baby" he observed, and just for a second he had to think about little ass-kicker.
Could this be? Was that her? Had his group really left the prison because of the Woodbury threat and was now out there on the road?
Merle snorted and turned around to look at him.
"Oh come on. Why don't you just piss in my ear and tell me it's raining, too? That there's the sound of a couple of coons making love, sweet love" he answered and started swaying his hips.
Daryl just rolled his eyes and started walking.
"Know what I mean?" Merle called after him and started laughing.
The baby didn't seem to be too far away, and Daryl ended up jogging in the direction where he supposed the sound was coming from. The older Dixon finally followed him, still chuckling to himself because of his previous assumption. The hunter ended up running until they finally reached what looked like a clearing, and there it was, a river, and a bridge which led right to the other side. They could hear people shouting and yelling, and the crying of the baby wouldn't stop. There most definitely were people on top of that bridge, and one of them was still an infant.
The closer they got to the bridge the more he could hear it, the groaning and snarling of countless walkers, which seemed to be the reason why those people were yelling and shouting like that. Trouble was that this sort of noise only made it worse. Both Dixon brothers stopped walking for a moment to evaluate the situation. Daryl came to the conclusion that the people, which happened to be two men who were speaking Spanish, really needed help. They had managed to climb on top of what looked like a big truck, and there were walkers all around them. He wasn't sure where the baby was, but its cries were getting louder and louder. Merle didn't think the same way though.
"Hey! Jump!" he yelled and whistled, then he started chuckling to himself, which made Daryl angry.
Correction. Merle wasn't like Connor at all.
Because that bastard wouldn't hesitate a second to go up there and help those poor bastards, just like he was going to do now.
The hunter started walking and headed for the bridge. The older Dixon stopped laughing and looked at his brother with a frown.
"What?"
But Daryl kept walking. Now he could hear the screams of a woman as well, so he started running up the hill, through the woods, to the top of the bridge.
"Hey man, I ain't wasting my bullets on a couple of strangers that ain't never cooked me a meal or felicitated my piece. That's my policy. You'd be wise to adopt it, brother!" Merle yelled after him, but Daryl kept going.
Who the fuck would put his gun under the seat?
Connor tried to reach it, but goddamn, this one was a bitch. The fact that he could hardly see a damn thing made it even harder. He got hold of all sorts of crap. Wrappers, old rotten foot, even a goddamn old bubblegum. He kept touching the weapon with his fingertips, but it felt like it was stuck somewhere. Jesus fucking Christ. He needed to get creative. Connor let go of the gun with a frustrated sigh and grabbed the car keys instead to have a look inside the trunk of the car.
Once again there was all sorts of junk inside. Old bags with clothes and personal items, an old medkit and other stuff, but nothing really useful. He got hold of an old clothes hanger and came to the conclusion that this was his best option, so he took it with a determined huff and made his way back to the passenger door, whilst keeping an eye on the walkers. They still looked like they weren't really interested in him, which certainly made it easier for the Irishman.
He knelt down next to the car and started fishing for the revolver with the hanger, being well aware of the fact that the thing could go off any minute. But he'd rather get shot by a bullet like that than running around with no gun at all. He kept pulling and shoving until the weapon was released, and for a second he couldn't hold back the happy "Taha!" that escaped his mouth. Things were getting better at last!
Just then the screaming and shouting and most of all shooting started.
When Daryl finally reached the top of the bridge he saw the problem in its entirety. At least fifteen walkers were surrounding what looked like a small family. A red station wagon was standing right in the middle of the road, with walkers piling up on it. The trunk was open, one walker was trying to creep its way in, while the others tried breaking the front window. He could see a crying woman inside the car and she was holding on to a small and incredibly loud bundle.
Two men, who looked like father and son, were trapped on top of the loading area of a large truck, the father on his knees as a walker tried to bite his leg. They didn't have any weapons in their hands, and Daryl knew that the whole family would be screwed without him. In just a couple of seconds. So he got rid of his backpack, threw it to the ground, took his crossbow and aimed it at the walker which was attacking the older man. For a second the two Spanish men looked at him in surprise, but Daryl didn't have time for any talk.
More walkers were coming at him now, and he knew that every arrow counted. He took aim at a young female walker and shot her in the head. The hunter turned around to see where his brother was, but of course. Just like Merle would react in a situation like that, the bastard was no where in sight and it was all up to him to save the day. Again.
Instead of Merle there were more walkers behind him, who were slowly closing in on him. Truth be told, he wasn't used to fighting them on his own anymore. For the past couple of months either the group or Connor had had his back. No, if he was honest, Connor had always had his back. Add another reason to the list why he freaking missed the guy. So Daryl kept fighting on his own, using the arrow he had just pulled out of a walker's head to stab the next one with it. It was getting dangerous with all the walkers around him, and he knew that he just needed help. Since Merle was still nowhere in sight he looked at the other men, who were just standing there and stared at him with wide eyes.
"Come on, man! I'm trying to help you out! Cover me!" he yelled and the two finally moved.
One of them jumped off the truck to get what looked like his weapon, which was lying on the ground. Soon the other man started shooting the walkers on the other side of the bridge, so Daryl could fully concentrate on the car. His protector instincts kicked right in when he heard the baby cry, and just for this moment he tried to tell himself that this was little ass-kicker in there. Maybe with Carol. This helped him a lot and urged him to try harder, and it was rather effective.
He took aim at the walkers which were lying on top of the hood of the car, and with two loud ZAPs they got arrows in their heads. Neither the woman nor the baby would stop crying, which seemed to make the walkers extra aggressive. There was one more male walker by the driver door and the other one in the back of the car, so the hunter went for the closer one first. He didn't waste time on actually shooting an arrow at the undead, he used the crossbow itself to bash his brains in instead. A wave of red and sticky fluid rained down on the car window and the woman inside screamed even louder.
More and more shooting could be heard and for a second Daryl was pretty sure that he could hear more than one gun. Merle, he thought and growled as he made his way to the back of the car. Fucking finally. He grabbed the remaining walker by the back of his shirt to pull him outside the car, and after looking up he got an idea. He slammed the undead's face down and used the trunk lid to smash its head. And yet another walker down. It was a bloody mess with all the guts and skull pieces being stuck in the trunk like that, but no matter how sick and disgusting it really was, it still made Daryl smirk. Damn good kill.
He wiped all the blood off his hands and looked up to see how the rest of the family was doing, then he grabbed his crossbow which he had thrown to the ground. A female walker with shoulder long hair was right behind him, but he still didn't have an arrow in his crossbow yet. Damn. This whole thing was getting pretty hairy. He remembered all the times he had spent complaining about how Connor hadn't stopped following back at the farm, but right now he really wanted to take everything back. He freaking needed that guy to have his back now, how dare him disappear on him just when he needed him! The hunter stumbled backwards, away from the walker, and when he saw all the walkers behind him it was a bit too much for him for a second. Jesus, the whole thing had looked easier than it actually was.
"Daryl! I got ya!" Merle suddenly yelled and his younger brother looked up.
He could see the older Dixon on the other side of the car, how he was making his way down the street like he was taking a simple stroll and had all the time he needed. Merle took aim and shoot the walker in the head right after Daryl had jumped out of his way. Another walker down, six were left. The father of the Spanish speaking family approached him just when Daryl was busy putting an arrow in his crossbow. The man started talking to him fast and sounded very excited, but the hunter didn't understand a damn thing.
"Speak English!" he yelled but the man kept talking.
Then a loud gunshot startled Daryl, because it had gone off right next to him.
"He said if ye touch his wife he'll kill you."
The hunter turned around abruptly, crossbow aimed at the person who was standing right next to him. It was impossible, but there he was, dirty clothes, messy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes which were staring at the walkers that were staggering in their direction. It had to be a freaking joke. A hallucination. Maybe he was going crazy just like Rick and the man who was standing right next to him with his gun pointed at the undead. The blonde pulled the trigger and killed another walker, but Daryl couldn't stop staring at him. What. The fuck.
"Jacob!" the Spanish man yelled and was looking right at the blonde, now that he was struggling to fight the last walker.
The hunter frowned and looked at him again.
"Jacob?"
The other man finally looked at him and smirked.
"Howdy" he said and headed for the last walker to stab him with a kitchen knife.
He shoved him off the bridge and the father of the family they had just saved kept thanking him, talking to him in Spanish, but Daryl just kept staring. He still didn't get what the fuck was going on, how the guy was just standing there right in front of him, calling himself Jacob? He eyed the blonde head to toe just to make sure that he didn't face Connor's look-alike right now, just like he was Murphy's look-alike. But there they were, absolutely unmistakable. The tattoo on his neck, the tattoo on his arm, and although he could only see the last two letters on his left index finger, there it was, the Veritas tattoo. There was a bandage around Connor's left hand and the way the Irishman was holding it it looked like it was broken, and even through the shirt he could see the fresh wound on his shoulder.
The guy was absolutely freaking impossible.
He couldn't be standing there like that. How was this even possible? That shit only happened in bad movies. People didn't cross paths by chance.
And even if it did happen, how was this guy still alive? How could he...
The creaking of a car door and the rustling of things made him turn his head and forget about the whole confusion for a second. He could see Merle, who was searching the back of the family's car now, ignoring the crying baby and woman completely. Right. Merle. He had forgotten all about him! His brother kept searching, being the uncaring bastard that he was. The father of the family suddenly darted forward and yelled something at the older Dixon, who pulled his gun and aimed it at the man's head.
"Slow down, beaner. That ain't no way to say thank you."
Daryl just watched the whole scenario with a worried look on his face, the shock still paralyzing him. Merle turned his head again to start searching the car once more, now that it was obvious that the father wasn't going to fight him. The younger Dixon turned his head to check if Connor was really there, only to see that the blonde was gone. Right. Of course it had to be a freaking illusion. It would have been...The loud click of a gun made him face his brother again.
"And that ain't no way t'treat a lady with a crying baby in her arms, don't ye think, beaner?"
Daryl widened his eyes in surprise when he saw that Connor was now standing right behind his brother, with a gun pointed at his head.
"Now out of the car. Hands where I can see them. Nice and slow, ye piece of shit."
"Con..."
"Now hohoho! What do we have here!" Merle interrupted him as he slowly got out of the car, with both his hands in the air.
Connor wouldn't stop pointing his gun at him, piercing his back with his eyes. Merle slowly turned around to face the Irishman, whereas Daryl tried to approach them carefully. He could almost taste the tension between the two men, and this wasn't like he had pictured their first confrontation. Oh god. He knew Connor, knew Merle, but he seriously didn't have a clue how this was going to end. For the first time he really felt small next to them. He wanted them to stop, but this was a clash of big brothers, this was a fight over him.
"Just..come on man, let's just go" he said, and didn't even know who he was aiming it at. He just didn't want it to be like that. Not at all.
Merle clicked his tongue and eyed Connor head to toe, an evil smirk spreading over his face.
"So you're the one, huh? The leprechaun?" he said with a chuckle and looked at his brother.
"Been making more of a fuzz over you than over me when I got lost. Hell, even went back looking for yah, unlike what he did for me...Thought you'd be taller.
And a redhead."
He chuckled even more.
"But look at that goldyface. Looking like you're straight from a boy band poster. No wonder our sweet little faggy Darylena likes yah."
Connor just kept staring at Merle, and he was giving him that look.
The look Daryl knew all too well by now. The look that told him that his friend was in his freaking Saint mode.
"Let's just go! There's walkers all around us and we should..." he tried to reason with them, but Connor interrupted him midsentence.
"Shut up!" he yelled and Merle exploded.
"Hey! You ain't talking to my brother.."
The Irishman shoved the older Dixon against the car and pressed the muzzle of his gun to his forehead.
"And you keep yer fucking mouth shut and drop the gun."
Merle laughed even more.
"Hey, come on man! I'm his brother! Makes us best buddies by default, right? His friends are my..."
"I said shut yer fucking mouth and drop yer gun right fucking now!" the Irishman yelled and Daryl had enough.
He needed to get his friend out of his psycho mode.
"Just, come on, man. Calm down."
Connor turned his head and tried to talk to him, but Merle was faster. He used the moment of abstraction and grabbed the blonde's broken hand, using his other arm stump to knock Connor's gun out of the other hand. The Irishman yelped because of the sudden intense pain in his broken hand and didn't have the time to fight back, and just in a matter of seconds he was the one who's head was bashed against the roof of the car, the arm with the broken hand painfully pressed against his back and a gun to his head. Merle didn't get the chance to pull the trigger or hurt the blonde in any other way, because then he could feel the sharp end of an arrow, which was being pressed between his shoulder blades.
"Let him go."
Merle froze and snorted.
"I know you're not talking to me, brother."
Connor grunted underneath Merle's weight and still tried to fight the man on top of him, his teeth gritted and eyes watery because of the immense pain in his broken hand.
Merle pressed his entire body weight against him, so he hardly stood a chance of actually freeing himself.
"I said let him go" Daryl repeated, his eyes fixed on his brother's back.
Merle slowly turned his head to look at him, but wouldn't say anything. And now the younger Dixon was given that look, the look that meant that there was going to be trouble later. But he didn't care. He didn't want his brother and Connor to murder each other, so he had to be the one to put an end to it. When Merle let go of the Irishman the latter backed off, holding his broken hand with an angry hiss. He was giving the older Dixon a death glare, but just like Merle he wouldn't do or say anything either. Both men were slowly walking away from the car, so Daryl turned his head to look at the Spanish family, which had watched the whole scenario without a word.
"Get your car and get the hell out of here" he demanded, while still pointing his crossbow at his own brother.
When the man and his son wouldn't move right away he looked at them again and got angry.
"Go! Get in your car!" he yelled and they finally moved.
The older man gave Connor a worried look, but the Irishman just shook his head and waved him off. The two men got in their car to sit next to the crying woman and baby, then they drove off at full speed. Merle and Daryl kept staring at each other for a little while longer, then the younger of the two finally lowered his crossbow.
"Go" he demanded and Merle frowned.
"What?"
"I said go. I'll be right behind yah" he growled and headed for his bag.
He gave Connor just the same angry look, but the Irishman wouldn't stop glaring at the older Dixon instead.
Daryl put his backpack back on and turned around to look at his brother, who was just staring at him in what seemed like surprise.
"Said I'll be right behind yah! Now get your ass off this bridge!" the hunter yelled, because now he could no longer keep his anger in.
Merle just kept staring at him for a little while longer, then, and that much to Daryl's surprise, he turned around and headed for the woods.