Hey you! Lol, I got lots of reviews on the latest chapter. Me gusta. I like being a tease and reading all those reactions was priceless :D
So here, have a new chapter, people. =)
Oh and I lied about the 5 last chapters. I think it might be some more. :D But not too many. Seriously. I don't want this fic to end up being 100 chaps long or something.

setting: episode 16 "Welcome To The Tombs"

Damnation

Chapter 58 - Crisis

"GET TE CAR! GET THE FUCKING CAR!" Connor yelled and looked at Andrea in panic.

The blonde woman had just been about to get to them so she could help, but Connor knew that they couldn't waste any more time on any of that crap. They needed to get Daryl away from here. As soon as possible. Not only because his friend had been shot and was dying, but also because he could already see that walkers were approaching them because of the gunshot and screaming.

"DO IT! RUN!" the Irishman yelled and grabbed Andrea by her jeans to shove her towards the street, and after staring at Daryl and all the blood for a moment longer she finally did as she was told.

For a second the older of the two friends panicked completely. He felt Daryl's back once more and let out a couple of shaky breaths because of the shock. Connor tried to lie the hunter down as slowly and carefully as he could, knowing that one wrong movement could make everything worse. Daryl was still yelping and moaning in pain and tried to fight his friend's hands when the Irishman grabbed his shirt and ripped it open to get a better look at the injury.

There was blood. A lot of blood. It looked like the bullet had gone right through and it had ripped a hole in Daryl's chest. The red and sticky fluid kept oozing out of the wound and now that the shirt no longer held it back it was running down the hunter's pale chest. For a second Connor's mind went blank and he was unable to move. Even after one year it was like a punch in his face, a violent reminder of what had happened to his brother. And once again there was blood on his hands and he was trying so hard to stop it while a person he really loved was freaking dying.

This couldn't be happening again.

No.

This -wouldn't- happen again.

Determination rushed over him, and then he was back on track, trying to take a rational approach rather than an emotional one this time.

"Alright, brother. I'm gonna put ye back together. I need you t'listen to me and do as I say, aye?" he stuttered and then placed his bloody hand on Daryl's neck and cheek to make him look at him. The look on his friend's face nearly made his heart miss a beat. Because for the first time Daryl Dixon actually looked scared. But the hunter still nodded eagerly, despite all the blood and pain.

Connor nodded back and then freed him from his ripped shirt, leather jacket and wing vest.

"'m gonna apply pressure t'yer chest, but you gotta tell me if you can't breathe, alright?"

Daryl nodded once more and started coughing whereas the Irishman tried to twirl his shirt a couple of times so he could use it as temporary bandage.

"Can ye breathe right now?" the blonde went on and then grabbed his friend by his uninjured bare shoulder when he noticed that the hunter's eyes rolled back for a moment.

"Daryl! Come on, stay with me, can ye breathe?!"

The younger of the two stopped rolling his eyes and then looked back at him with an eager nod.
He suddenly grabbed Connor by his arm and tried to get up, but his friend forced him to lie low.

"I don't...I don't wanna..I ain't gonna die" Daryl growled with an extremely low and shaky voice and coughed once more, and this time there were several droplets of blood running down his chin.

"Well, of course you ain't gonna die, ye hear me?" Connor answered and pulled the shirt as hard as he could after wrapping it around his friend's chest to slow the bleeding down. A pain-filled yelp escaped Daryl's mouth because of the sudden pressure and the Irishman looked at him with a very worried look on his face. The shirt was slowly getting soaked with blood. Where the fuck was Andrea with the car? Connor turned around and looked up to see if she was on her way. He didn't see the black car, but his eyes met something else instead: four walkers were staggering in their direction, and there were even more coming from the other side of the field.

"Oh shit shit shit" the Irishman muttered and then looked back at Daryl, who was in pure agony and half-unconscious already.

"You're not allowed ta die, you understand?!" he yelled and pointed a finger at him. He checked the temporary bandage, and once he had made sure that it was tight and kept the blood inside he lifted his friend's head and chest a bit, so he could put his vest and jacket back on. Daryl's body temperature was already dropping because of the blood loss and shock, and the Irishman knew that it was important to keep the hunter warm. If the blood loss didn't kill him then the shock certainly could, and there was no way he was going to let that happen. He cursed himself for not taking his own jacket with him so he could put it on top of his friend as well, but the vest and leather jacket would have to do for now.

"Be right back, brother" he muttered and then got back on his feet, just in time to keep a female walker from kneeling down and attacking Daryl.

"Leave 'im alone you dead bitch!" he yelled and killed her with a stab to her jaw, impaling her head on the blade.

He knew that they had made too much noise already anyway so he decided to use his gun as well. He pulled the blade out of the walker's head and then quickly replaced the knife with his Beretta. He used it to shoot all the nearby walkers that were walking down the street. Once that was clear he ran down the hill and nearly stumbled on the hot asphalt. He could see Andrea by the car just by the place where they had crashed, and the blonde woman seemed to be fighting walkers as well.

"ANDREA! HURRY!" he yelled as loud as he could, his throat aching because of the intensity and volume. He could see how she looked up but then started stabbing and shooting walkers herself, and the Irishman knew that if she kept going like this she was going to get overwhelmed and the car would be going nowhere.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck" he gasped and yanked his messy hair in panic.

He knew it was dangerous and stupid to move Daryl too much with this sort of injury, but they really needed to get out of here.
Everything was happening so ridiculously fast that it just couldn't be true, could it?

He couldn't lose both Dixon brothers on the same day.

That was it. He was never ever going to plan shit again. His plans really did get people killed all the time, and it really wasn't fun anymore.
Yes, he needed to use his brain and be the head of the whole thing one more time to get this solved, but after that he was going to fucking quit.

He ran back up the hill to get back to Daryl only to widen his eyes in shock. Two walkers had managed to make their way past the Governor's crashed pick-up and were now feeding on his corpse, and another one was already staggering in Daryl's direction. His friend was just lying there, eyes closed, not moving.

"No no no no!" Connor yelled once more and started running, and just when the male walker was about to grab his friend he kicked the undead right in the face, sending him flying backwards with a sick crack. The hard upward kick had not only broken the walker's nose but also his neck. The undead could no longer move his limbs but was still growling and snarling, and Connor didn't waste a second and stomped his head as hard as he could while shooting the other two walkers by the Governor's corpse. Another female walker with extremely long dirty hair was thrown back against the wrecked pickup, with her brains getting splattered all over the white door. No matter how many walkers he killed, it seemed like more and more were already coming for them. Just the undead were coming, but no freaking car. He needed to do something.

He stared at bloody unmoving Daryl, mind racing, chest heaving, hands shaky.
He then grabbed his rosary and squeezed his eyes shut.

Please God, not him. Kill me, kill everyone else, I don't care. But please not him. Watch over him. Let him make it through. Please please please.
After all the shit that's happened to me, I think you really owe me. I never stopped believing in you. So please please please.
Not Daryl.

He crossed himself quickly and opened his eyes so he could get his friend.
They needed to get out of here. Fast. He would have to carry Daryl and make run for it. No matter how screwed he was himself. Just before grabbing his friend he placed a shaky hand on his neck to make sure his heart was still pumping blood in his veins. He could feel the pulsating, but it was weak and getting weaker still.

Fuck.

He grabbed his knife and looked up once more when he heard more groaning coming from behind the wrecked car.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Connor grabbed Daryl's jeans and then started cutting at the furthest end of the leg so he could get another piece of cloth he could use to tie his friend's hands together. This way he would make sure that when he was carrying his friend on his back he wouldn't lose grip of him, especially when there were walkers everywhere and he needed to shoot or stab them.

He heard more walkers coming and tied Daryl's hands as fast as possible, and just for a moment he cursed those things because no matter how immune he was, they still scared the crap out of him and made his heart beat faster. Part of him wished that he could just give some of his blood to Daryl, to make him invisible to them as well. For a second he actually considered it but knew that it was a stupid idea. He now regretted that he had destroyed all of Milton's efforts back at Woodbury, because maybe they could've had a cure or vaccine by now to protect his friend. But of freaking-course there was no such thing, and those countless undead bastards were about to swarm them to a point where even he couldn't fight them all anymore. They were going to eat Daryl if they didn't get to the fucking car.

Once Connor had tied his friend's arms he grabbed him by his waist, careful not to hurt the hunter even more. He needed to keep him as steady as he could, which was quite hard to achieve because a) he had a broken hand and couldn't do shit with it b) his shoulder was just as screwed c) he needed to fight undead people every two minutes and d) Daryl was freaking heavy. Connor awkwardly adjusted their positions until he carried his friend on his back and threw his tied hands over his head so he could put them under his chin and around his neck. He tried to hold him steady with his broken hand although he couldn't move it, but he couldn't use his right because it was holding the gun.

After shooting another walker the Irishman started walking and then jogging, and although he was now carrying the weight of two men he still kept going, especially now that he could feel how Daryl's blood was sticking to the back of his shirt.

You owe me you sick bastard. Please don't let him die, please don't let him die. I cannot take another death, Connor thought as he started running faster and zigzagged his way across the street to avoid the countless walkers that were now staggering towards them from all directions. They were hardly faster than them and the blonde suspected that it was his friend's blood that made them go wild.

"ANDREA! GET IN THE CAR!" Connor yelled and tried to run faster but couldn't because he was so out of breath and absolutely exhausted.

He had tried to stay calm for a while now, but truth was that he was far from calm. Daryl was dying.
His best friend was dying because once again he wasn't running fast enough.
So many should-have's were going through his mind that it was driving him nuts.

I shouldn't have let him go after that bastard on his own.
I should've made him stop the car.
I should've been the one driving the car.
I shouldn't have let Merle die.
I should've killed the Governor earlier.
I shouldn't have left the cell today.
I should've should've should've.

A surprised yelp escaped his mouth when he felt how they were both being dragged back. Daryl's arms were strangling him because of the sudden pressure and then he heard his friend yelp in his ear, and within seconds the blonde understood what was going on. A walker had managed to grab his friend, maybe even close to his injury and tried to attack them from behind.

"NO! FUCK OFF!" he yelled and twirled them around, and that so fast that he was getting strangled even more and then nearly lost grip of the man on his back. As soon as Connor was facing the undead he let out a moan because the fool breath that escaped the woman's ripped mouth hit him right in the face, now that she was only inches away from him.

He knew that if he started fighting now they would get surrounded, so all he could do was kick her hard in the chest to make her fall to the ground. He nearly lost his balance because Daryl's weight kept pulling him back and his arms were still strangling him, and after hopping a couple of times and stumbling around he regained his balance and started running again. The car was so close now. He could see it, could see Andrea in front of it and how she was still trying to get inside whilst fighting all the walkers herself.

They were so so close. He could feel Daryl's breath against his neck and the beating of his heart against his back. It was getting weaker and weaker, and there was more and more blood running down between them. He felt incredibly sick all of a sudden. He had never contemplated the idea of losing Daryl. Daryl was a fact, not a maybe. He was Daryl Dixon, and Daryl Dixon did not die. He was way too tough, and although it sounded fucking gay he had always considered him his rock. He needed that bastard, didn't he get that? That was the man who had saved him, who had helped him out of his depression, who had kept him from dying over and over again. He wasn't allowed to die. Just like there had been no Connor without Murphy before there was no Connor without Daryl now. If his friend died then he would not survive that shit either. No. Daryl Dixon was life support. He was not allowed to die.

"Come on, stay with me, brother" he gasped and then placed both his right hand on his friend's tied arms to stroke them with his healthy thumb, trying anything to make it right.

Even now he could almost hear his friend grumble against him.

Fuck off, that's gay yah moron.

"Who's gonna kick my ass fer all my shite plans otherwise?" he went on and adjusted Daryl's position once more, because it felt like the hunter was getting heavier with every second that passed.

After what felt like eternity he finally reached Andrea, who was currently being pressed against their car by two walkers as she tried to fight them off at once. Connor took aim at the undead's heads and although he knew that he could hit their friend as well he still pulled the trigger, hitting the first walker in the head and killing the other walker right next to him as well. It was a damn neat kill, and for a second the Irishman was pretty aware of that, but he had no time to cheer and tease, because another dangerous cough and groan behind him reminded him that Daryl was dying.

"Get inside the car!" the blonde demanded and glared at Andrea with wide eyes.

"Is he..?" the blonde woman asked but Connor would not let her speak it out.

No Daryl wasn't dead. And he wasn't going to fucking die.

"No! Now get inside te car! In te back! Hurry! You gotta look after 'im!" he demanded and ripped the car door open.

He needed to stab another walker and watched how Andrea climbed inside the black vehicle, and when he turned around his eyes widened even more.
It looked like a fucking small herd was coming after them by now, staggering down the road, coming from the field and out of the woods.
Where the fuck had they all come from all of a sudden? Those fucks really were like a freaking plague!

"Ye gotta help me get him inside" he gasped and then got rid of Daryl's arms around his neck so he could put him inside the back of the car.

"We don't even know if it's working!" he heard Andrea protest from the inside, which made him lose his patience even more.

"Of course it's gonna fucking work, you just gotta fuckin believe, woman!" he snapped and tried to keep his friend steady as he heaved him inside the car.

Daryl's eyes were closed by now and the shirt he had put around his chest was completely soaked with blood, and just for a second Connor nearly panicked again because he thought his friend had died while they were busy argueing. He quickly placed a hand on his naked chest to feel for his heartbeat, and let out a relieved sigh when he could feel that there still was one. Of course there had to be one. His friend was Daryl Dixon. A tough motherfucker. And tough motherfuckers didn't just die because of some silly bullet wounds. He had been shot many times and he was still fine, so his friend was going to be fine as well.

He let go of the injured man and headed back outside so he could keep an eye on the walkers and made his way to the driver's door. He had to shoot another three walkers and was really getting annoyed by it by now, and when another fat old undead was just about to stagger in his direction and he already wondered why the hell he was interested in him in the first place Connor grabbed the door handle and pulled himself inside the car, closing the door just in time before the first couple of walkers started banging on it.

Great.

Now they were trapped and really getting surrounded.

When he had a look in the rearview mirror he could not only see the countless undead but also Andrea, who was taking care of Daryl in the backseat.

"You gotta keep him steady, apply pressure t'the wound and make sure the air pressure in his chest stays constant. We need ta make sure he won't suffocate. I don't know what's screwed inside him, if tha fucker hit any organs, so ye better not fucking move him" he croaked and then turned the key in the ignition only to hear...

Nothing.

Just the stuttering of the engine and the banging of the walkers on the windows and doors.
More and more were closing in on them, trying to get to them from the front, back and all sides.
Andrea watched the whole scenario in panic.

"Is it working?!"

Connor tried it again. Another couple of stutters and some smoke that was slowly coming from the engine department.
Of course. The accident. They had hit a fucking tree.

This couldn't be real. This had to be some sort of sick joke.

"We can still get out of here, maybe we should..."

"And what are we gonna do? Fuckin carry him back t'the prison? He won't fuckin make it, and neither are we with all those fucking dead pricks behind us!" Connor yelled and tried the ignition again.

The stuttering was getting louder now, just like the banging of undead fists on their windows, and the right passenger window which the Governor had shot just a couple of minutes ago was starting to crack even more.

This couldn't be fucking happening.

He didn't know what was worse. The fact that Daryl was slowly bleeding to death behind him, or the fact that countless walkers were about to break into their car and attack them. And as this wasn't even enough: there was also a pretty good chance that he was going to survive this shit, although he seriously didn't want to if it happened. He was covered in Daryl's blood, which might draw the walkers back to him although he couldn't know for sure. If they really decided not to attack him because of his immunity he was soon going to be forced to watch how his best friend and another member of his group were going to get eaten alive, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop it. There were too many of them. It was getting darker and darker inside the car because all the walkers were blocking the light with there bodies, and the right passenger window was creaking violently by now. He didn't want it to end like this. This had to be some sort of sick joke.

Connor tried to start the engine again.

Nothing.

He froze and stared at the bloody grimaces in front of him, and his mind went blank.

"Connor!" Andrea yelled as the creaking got louder and the car started shaking because of the force of the walkers, but he zoned out and just for a moment he thought about giving up.

If Daryl died he didn't want to live on this filthy rotten world anymore, and he did not fucking care if suicide was a sin. He had tried and gotten better after Murphy's death, but Daryl had literally been the only reason for that. Strip Daryl away from him and he was back to day zero, back to when he had lost his main purpose in life. He had hardly made it after his twin's death, and there was no way he was going through that shit twice. So yes, if they broke in here he would let them eat him instead of dying maybe a couple of months later. He would rather burn in hell than go up to that sick motherfucker who kept disappointing him these days. Who turned his back on him and damned him to this world.

The first larger piece of the window next to him broke and fell inside, and when he heard Andrea's terrified scream he finally lost it.

"YOU OWE ME YOU FUCKIN BASTARD!" he yelled and hit the steering wheel as hard as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his hand.

He stared at the ceiling of the car and grabbed his rosary, and for a moment he thought about just ripping it in halves and throwing it to the ground.
He took a deep breath and kept staring at the ceiling but then let go of his rosary and reached out for the car keys again.

You owe me for taking Murphy from me.

He moved the keys one final time, and this time the roaring of the engine greeted him.
Connor let out a gasp and then cheered.

The engine was working, and he could still hear Daryl breathing, coughing and moaning behind him.
And although the window next to him really broke now he did no longer believe that anyone was going to die.
He knew that God was still watching over him, even now.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

He put the car in reverse and then hit the accelerator as hard as he could, driving right into all the walkers behind them and making them fall down.
Andrea let out a surprised shriek because of the hard impact and Connor hit the first gear.

"Sorry!" he apologised and then moved the car further away from the tree they had hit, and although the engine was way too loud and sounded like it was pretty screwed the car was still working and hit the walkers in front of them, making the windshield crack and the vehicle jump when they ran over a couple of bodies. It was a bumpy ride but then they were back on the road that led to the prison. At least five dozen walkers were staggering after them, dragging their feet across the asphalt as they watched the car drive away from them at full speed.