….. Chapter 43 …..
Daryl pulled off onto the shoulder of the road and let the bike coast to a low rumbling stop. As its wheels sunk heavily into the mud, he hurriedly read the government evacuation sign posted in front of him. He was somewhere just outside of Butler, a place he had heard about but had never actually been to. The gated communities he had passed indicated that it was one of the wealthier suburbs outside of the city though, the high-end cars left rusting and abandoned in his way only seeming to confirm it.
Wherever it was, it had been ground zero for a conflict of some kind. There was evidence of a large scale military counteroffensive all over the place. Futile remnants of a desperate last stand, the burnt out shells of army vehicles were strewn across the road, most of them gutted and overturned. Equipment… barricades... hell, even a tank... all lay wasted over the previously well manicured lawns. Next to the developed areas, huge holes were charred into the surrounding woods, explosive impacts that marked a battle that nobody was left to talk about and clearly hadn't been won.
Cutting the engine off, Daryl shoved the keys into his pocket and looked around. The dark clouds that had accumulated overnight only shrouded the morning in a depressing grey pall. It did nothing but make the surrounding chaos look that much more surreal. The gloom brought with it an eerie sense of foreboding and he struggled to put it aside as he finished assessing the area.
He had somehow managed to stay on the LTD's ass the whole time, only worrying about being seen by its driver when it started getting light outside. With no other choice, he had fallen back... caught dangerously between not wanting to lose the car and an unwillingness to be detected by it. The painful grip he had around the Triumph's handlebars had only eased when the damn thing finally pulled off from the highway. Upon seeing it do so, Daryl had felt his shoulders physically slump in relief. The bike beneath him was hissing loudly with both the thermometer and the gas gauge firmly situated in the red.
Straining to hear anything past the incessant clicking coming from the overheated engine, he got off the motorcycle and rolled it further down the embankment. With no time to waste in covering it, Daryl shoved it into the nearby foliage to leave it where it lay. The thing was on its last fucking legs but it didn't matter. Up ahead the LTD had turned into a private cul-de-sac at the end of the road. Figuring that it had to be going there for a reason, he pulled the Horton from his back and ran after it, cutting into the tree line to follow both the car and the road it had taken into the exclusive area.
Making his way through the woods as silently as he could, Daryl looked though the brush to see that the homes sitting nearby were huge plantation style mansions, the gaudy pretentious kind that were beyond common in the south. Spread out for privacy, they were intended for the wealthier residents of Butler. They lorded over the plots of land they were built upon and each had its own private entrance.
Daryl finally found what he was looking for in front of the fifth one he checked. There from where he was crouched, he could clearly see the LTD sitting in the driveway, looking about as out of place in it as it possibly could. The vehicle was surrounded by four men arguing, one of them for sure being that mangy piece of shit Len. The others he had never seen before, leaving him to assume that they had been at the store as well on that fateful day. If that was the case then they would likely be just as dangerous as their cohort and without a doubt equally as grudgy.
Looking past them, his brows drew when he didn't see Beth anywhere. Feeling both apprehensive and relieved because of it, Daryl slowly made his way closer, keeping the Horton tucked firmly at his cheek while he did so. His brain felt like it was spiraling into a pit as he tried to formulate a cohesive game plan on how to best handle the situation. Never much one for thinking things through, his first instinct was to storm the hell in, bolts flying. The only thing stopping him from doing so was the knowledge that Beth wouldn't want him to do such a thing. Somehow she'd think of a better way and admitting it to himself was like a punch to the gut that Daryl didn't necessarily need right now.
Edging his way through the overgrown foliage, he got close enough to the edge of the road to see two of the men walking away. The fat one was clearly pissed off and he huffed for breath as he struggled to keep up. His companion had the decisive stride of someone who couldn't give a shit, not once acknowledging what was being said and looking as though he didn't need to. Both disappeared into the house to leave Len and the other guy behind, unpacking bags from the back seat of the sedan like they'd just gotten back from vacation.
Daryl watched as the bags hit the ground, each thud they made seeming to hammer home the fact that the girl was likely locked in the vehicles trunk. In such a dark enclosed space, she had to be absolutely scared shitless. Worrying at his lower lip, he felt his heart constrict beneath his ribs. None of the men who had taken her would care that she was frightened of the dark. To them she was nothing but a means to an unfortunate end.
Across the way, the forth man picked up the duffle bags and took them into the house, leaving Len standing there alone. Daryl tensed when he got back into the LTD and started it up, realizing instantly how completely fucked he'd be if the cocksucker decided to drive off. Instead he pulled the vehicle around the side of the house, out of sight but at least still on the property somewhere. The man reappeared again a minute later, twirling the car keys on his finger like he didn't have a care. He climbed the steps to the house and went inside, the screen door slamming noisily behind him.
Still hunched nearby, Daryl could feel his anxiety rising. What the hell? Did the bastard really just leave her locked in the trunk like that? After all of the trouble he had gone through to acquire her, what was the fucking point?
Not wanting to wait around to find out, Daryl carefully crossed the road and made his way around the property, using the cover of the overgrown landscaping to mask his movements. Observing everything as he went, he could easily see why the place had been chosen as a base camp for the men who resided there. It was well laid out, with a large sprawling yard and a wall of dense trees surrounding its perimeter. The house itself was untouched though, which made it an anomaly. The tall majestic columns at its front and the long porches lining its sides were both free of any anti-walker modifications that had mostly become the norm. There were no boards on the windows, no traps at the doors and upon closer inspection, no lookouts posted either... nothing that would hinder him in what he was attempting to do.
Whoever these guys were, they had to be some cocky sons of bitches to be living in a building so unfortified. Confused by the notion, Daryl suddenly heard the groans of the dead coming from somewhere nearby, the tell tale sound of which instantly making the hair on his neck stand on end. Not wanting to be caught unawares by whatever it was that was causing it, he took a moment to find its source.
Following the noise, he stepped past the overgrown shrubs in the back yard to come across a large steel fence erected around the secluded pool area. By itself such a thing wouldn't have been that unusual, except this one had tangles of barbed wire that ran around its length as well. Moving in closer, it didn't take long for Daryl to find out the reason why. The pool itself had no water but it was packed to the walls with walkers, all of which were anchored to its floor by a complex net of chains and weights. There was an array of blood soaked body parts mashed under their feet and swallowing at his revulsion, Daryl instantly realized what such a thing meant.
The scent of the walkers alone would act as a natural deterrent, shielding the house against any others that happened to be roaming the area. But of more importance, they would provide a quick and convenient way to get rid of any human problems as well. From where he was hovering nearby, Daryl could see that most of the walkers were female, all of them young. Beth obviously wasn't the first girl taken by these bastards. Upon noticing a slim blonde one snarling in their midst, he swore to himself right then and there that she would absolutely be the last.
Getting back to the task at hand, he disappeared into the trees until he finally found the LTD. The car was parked under an open overhang, right next to an F-250 truck that had seen better days. It was easily accessible… almost too much so... and Daryl felt his senses jump instantly on point, his stomach clenching as they tingled ominously under the plains of his skin. Raising the Horton, he honed in on the vehicle, slowly leaving the safety of the trees to close in on it. Despite his best intentions, his blood was racing anxiously in his ears. He was so close… so fucking close. All he needed to do was jimmy the trunk, grab the girl and get them both the hell out of here. Once he was sure she was safe, he would come back and finish what he started, set fire to the house and leave it and everything it represented behind like the hellish nightmare it was...
With the sights of the crossbow leading the way, Daryl steadily closed the distance to the car, making sure to stay alert to any sudden movement in the vicinity that could make itself known. When no alarms were raised from the house, he figured he was in the clear and ran over to the vehicle to check the inside of it quickly. Finding the interior empty, he took a knee down next to the trunk.
''Beth…'' He whispered urgently, not daring to actually bang on it, ''Beth, ya in there?''
There was no response but he could hear movement. It was enough.
''Hang on baby, I'm gonna get ya out…'' Setting the crossbow by his feet, Daryl pulled his knife and jammed it in the crack just below the trunk lock, twisting on it in an effort to get the damn thing to trip...
''Says who, motherfucker.''
Daryl felt the cold tip of the bolt jab the back of his head before he heard the voice that accompanied it. Unable to help himself, he squeezed his eyes shut, the feelings of anguish and regret inundating him enough to bring him to his knees it he hadn't already been on one. How the fuck could he have been so stupid! There hadn't been a lookout for a reason. The car… the girl inside it… all of it had been a trap and he had just walked right into it.
Slowly raising his hands, Daryl swallowed hard and muttered, ''Hold up man… ain't no need for that.''
A boot came out to kick the Horton away. ''Stand up… real slow... unless you want to eat the end of this bolt for breakfast.''
Daryl did as he was told, pushing himself to his feet to turn and face his provoker. Unsurprisingly, Len was standing there, an intimidating Stryker crossbow held tightly in his grip. There was a gleam of satisfaction apparent in his bloodshot eyes and upon seeing it, Daryl mentally berated himself once more for fucking up so badly.
''The knife. Drop it and kick it away.''
Troubling at his lower lip, Daryl did so, his mind scrambling to formulate an exit strategy where there wasn't one to be had. This wasn't one of those situations where Rick, Glenn and the others would sweep in and unexpectedly save the day. This was all on him.
''You have to be one dumb son of a bitch, y'know that?'' Len sniffed unbelievably, obviously feeling free to voice the sentiment now that both the Horton and the knife were far out of Daryl's reach. ''Who the fuck else would raid an unknown camp out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere all for some stupid teenage girl?''
When Daryl just glared at him narrowly through his hair, Len stepped in closer. ''You see, I'm onto you… I've been onto you since the day the tables were turned and I was on the other end of your crossbow. Remember that day, asshole? While you and… what's her name? Beth? Yeah, while you an' Beth here were playing happy little home time, I was lookin' for you and I been lookin' for you ever since. Guess it was pure dumb luck that I saw the two of you leaving town that day and from there it was easy... as easy as lighting a fire.''
Daryl could only listen with his chest heaving in anger, the sound of the man's voice now grating over his last nerve. Not caring in the slightest, Len walked his way around him, continuing with his tirade as though enjoying himself.
''For a dumb son of a bitch, you sure were smart to hide that bike though, I'll give ya that." He leaned in to sneer at Daryl's ear, "I bet you came in here thinking this was gonna be easy, didn't ya? That you were gonna just waltz in here and get what you came for. Well, I hate to be the one to break the bad news but it ain't. The girl? Well, she's just the cherry on my cake. But you… I've been waiting a long time to give you this…''
Len hammered the butt of the Stryker into Daryl's gut, taking him immediately down to the ground. Left wheezing there for a moment, Daryl spat out a wad of agitated stomach acid before rolling over to bite out derisively, ''That tha best ya can do? Fuck you.''
Smirking back a grin, Len set the crossbow to his cheek before saying, ''Nah, that's not the best I can do. That bitch in the trunk? She's gonna see the best I can do. Y'know what, asshole? I was thinking about letting you watch, just so you'd know who it was that was giving it to her good… but now, I'm thinking I want to keep it private like… y'know, just me an' her. I promise, I'm gonna make it real special…''
Daryl immediately moved to shove himself to his feet, a red cloud of fury convoluting his vision and his judgment. The thought of Beth being subjected to what was being said had his stomach clenching more painfully than the blow it had just taken. Wanting nothing more than to go ballistic, he came up yelling, ''Try it an' I swear ta god, I'll fuckin' kill you like I should've tha first time!''
Len took him down to the ground again, this time with a solid boot to the chest. Coming over to where Daryl was sprawled out on his back, he stood directly over him, lining up the crossbow in his hands to say quietly, ''You ain't gonna do jack shit. At that store you were damn lucky my back was turned… damn lucky. It ain't never gonna happen again. You're one tenacious bastard, I'll give you that… but it's time for you to go…''
Not one to just take his fate laying down, Daryl reared back and went to sweep the man's leg out from under him, rolling to the side when he only stumbled instead of going down. In response Len immediately released the Stryker, the gut reaction causing its bolt to sear across the side of Daryl's arm through his jacket. Grunting against the pain, Daryl scrambled quickly for his knife, the blade being the closer of the two weapons that he had. Gripping it firmly in hand, he surged to his feet, his wound now leaving a trail of blood on the asphalt that couldn't be helped.
Completely pissed at the sudden turn of events, Len threw down the cashed crossbow and drew his own knife - a sick looking tactical combat blade with a serrated edge. The two men faced off against each other and were about to go for each others throats when an infuriated voice cut through the tension that inundated the air.
''What the fuck is going on out here?'' It barked, causing both combatants to hesitate. Neither Len or Daryl took their eyes off the other as time seemed to freeze in place.
''Nothing that concerns you,'' Len responded casual like, readjusting the knifes grip in his hand, ''… just two friends settling a disagreement that's been a long time comin'…''
''Yeah? And who the hell are you?''
Daryl didn't need to look over to know that the question was being directed at him. Stuck in a quandary, he could either answer it or take the opportunity the distraction provided to finish Len off right there and then. As tempting as it was, he found himself hesitating, realizing that such a thing would probably exacerbate the situation beyond the point of no return. If that happened nobody would win, least of all Beth.
''Name's Daryl,'' He admitted, his voice heavy with the angry adrenaline still flooding his veins. ''Weren't my intention ta come here an' start a fight, but I'll sure as hell finish one if that's what it takes.''
''That so.'' The deep voice sniffed, sounding amused enough to where Daryl felt compelled to spare its owner a glance. Sure enough, all three men he had seen earlier stood there with guns held at the ready, the one addressing him still carrying himself with the same air of authority that Daryl had recognized in him from before. It was clear that he was the leader. ''You have some nerve coming in here like that, boy... you suicidal or something?''
''Nah, jus' came here ta get what's mine. No more an' no less.'' Daryl muttered, lowering his knife somewhat after seeing Len sullenly do the same.
''Get what's yours?'' The big man next to the leader repeated, his face puffy and flushed from the stress of the moment was taking. ''Do you mean a death wish? 'Cause if so, I reckon you came to the right place, asshole.''
''Tony, will you shut the fuck up!'' Len barked, obviously getting frustrated. ''Joe, I done told you this ain't got nothin' to do with you! I got a debt to settle with this piece 'a shit and if you don't mind, I'd rather just get to it!''
''Wait… is this the guy from the store?'' Joe said incredulously, the piece of the puzzle that had been previously missing now falling into place. He went over and picked up the Horton, taking a closer look at the bolt locked on its frame. ''I'd recognize them bolts anywhere. I'll be goddamned if they ain't the same as the one pulled from Harley's dead bloated corpse…''
He began pacing around the two men still glaring at each other, his cold eyes missing nothing. Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he did so, not knowing what to expect now that the man had the loaded Horton and his gun held firmly in his hands.
''You know Daryl, you lead me an' mine on quite a wild goose chase through that store, running around in the dark like that. Guess you had better places to be, more important things to do… like kill one of my men. Can't say I'm too happy about that but then again, I also can't say that I blame you. Still, there's a price to be paid for everything in the end…'' Joe raised both of the weapons in his hands and pointed them over, disheartening Daryl and confusing the shit out of Len. ''Where's the girl?''
''Man, she's in the trunk of the LTD!'' Len said irritably, having now realized that none of this was going his way. ''Why the hell else would this motherfucker be here for!''
Shoving the gun in its holster, Joe held out his hand for the keys and Len begrudgingly handed them over, not having much choice in the face of the crossbow pointed squarely at his chest. Tossing them to Tony, Joe stepped back and waited along with the rest of them as the big man made his way to the car, opening the trunk to stare inside of it stupidly.
As he stood there watching, Daryl felt as though he could barely pull a breath. This whole situation had spiraled disastrously out of control and Beth was about to find herself thrown in the middle of it. His throat was dryer than shit and he swallowed against its grittiness as she was pulled from the trunk and situated unsteadily on her feet. She was gagged with her arms tied behind her back and even from where he was standing, he could see traces of the tears that had stained her cheeks. They coalesced with the dried blood on the side of her face and neck, leaving her looking as torn and broken as she probably felt.
Unable to help himself, Daryl huffed in torment and surged forward, only barely comprehending to stop when the Horton was immediately swung over in his direction. The angry red haze descended once more and with it came a palpable bloodlust, the urge to attack Len with the knife in his hand almost overwhelming. His fingers shaking with it, he struggled to reign himself back, doing so not just for Beth's sake but his own as well.
The moment she saw him, Beth's eyes welled up again as though hardly believing that he was there. Practically sagging over in relief, she spared no one else even the slightest glance, her gaze remaining locked only on him. Sniffling back the tears, she swallowed hard against the rag in her mouth before pulling herself together enough to stand up straight.
From somewhere close by, the forth man who still hadn't said a word spat into the dirt, breaking the tension that held them all firmly in its grips. Tearing his gaze away from her at the sound, Daryl saw that he was a kid really, a teenager… a really large teenager but a teenager none the less.
''Damn Len, what'd you do to this girl?'' Joe finally said, going over to grasp her chin with his free hand so he could take a better look at her.
''Man, I didn't do nothin' she didn't deserve.'' Len spat from behind him.
''She looks like you beat the ever loving shit out of her.'' The kid finally chimed in. ''That ain't right. Good lookin' gal like that…''
''Billy, go inside and get a glass of water, would you? Bring it to me.'' Joe ordered over his shoulder, not expecting an argument and not getting one. While the kid did as told, the man untied the rag from around Beth's head, letting it drop down unheeded to the ground. ''Let's take this off, shall we. What's your name girl?''
Painfully clearing her throat, she managed to croak out, ''Beth.''
''Beth.'' Joe repeated placatingly, for some reason making Daryl more edgy than he already was. ''Beth, you see this fella right here? He's telling me that he came here to get what belongs to him. Do you think that means you? Because I do. And you see, well… that's there's a problem…''
He paused the roll he was on to take the glass of water from Billy who was standing there patiently holding it out to him. Letting the girl drink some thirstily, he finished the rest himself before handed the empty glass back. Daryl and the three other men were left there watching this happen tensely, completely caught up in the moment at hand. The man was a commanding presence, the soothing voice he presented on the surface hiding a sinister malevolence underneath. Daryl's nerves were wound so fucking tight that he felt nauseous. For her part, Beth could only stand there dejectedly as Joe began walking his way around her, using all the time he had in the world to touch her hair, her neck and anything else that he wanted.
''Where was I… oh yeah, I remember… it's a problem because he killed one of my men and then beat the shit out of Len here. You remember that, don't you? You should because if I recall correctly, you were there for it… in fact, I'm fairly damn sure you were the catalyst for it. Now, Beth... you're a real pretty girl… who knows, maybe even beautiful... but I can't have my men getting themselves killed for such a thing. So with that being said, I now find myself in a bit of a predicament, a bind if you will. What to do… what to do.'' He began tapping his finger against his lip as though in deep contemplation, ''Oh, who am I kidding... we already know what I'm going to do.''
Daryl tensed instinctually, having already guessed what was coming. The knife left stagnant in his hand was no match for the Horton, he of all people knew that all too well. Even if he tried to use it, he had no doubt that Tony would put a bullet in his back as soon as he made the move. The whole time they'd been out there, the fat man had done nothing but glare at him as if itching for him to attempt it. The intensity of the moment seemed to decelerate into slow motion and Daryl could only watch as the crossbow was raised to point directly at his chest…
''Don't...!" Beth gasped, her heart in her eyes. The tearful plea was enough to make Joe pause and glare back over at her.
''Why the hell not?'' He challenged, his features hard and unforgiving.
''I'll tell ya why not…'' A new voice drawled loudly in the distance, one Daryl instantly recognized as surely as if it was coming from his own mouth. He closed his eyes, the blood draining steadily from his face as it continued, '''Cause that there's my lil' baby brother, back from tha dead like Jesus H. Christ, that's why not. What say you Darylina, you done got ya self in one hell of a pickle. Before tha shit hits tha bricks, I was jus' wonderin'… you got somethin' ya wanna say ta me?''
Daryl turned around slowly to find the voice and its owner weren't just another facet of the nightmare he was in after all. There, leaning against the porch post like he'd been enjoying the show the whole fucking time was Merle, looking definitely worse for wear but still carrying himself like the imposing figure he knew him to be. Even from where he was standing, Daryl could see that he had on a prosthetic arm of some kind, a customized contraption that looked tailor-made for the apocalypse. He was cackling like the asshole he was and looked more than happy to wait for an answer, even if it took all damn day.
Daryl resignedly squared his shoulders to give it, shrugging with a forced indifference as he pretended that his mind wasn't reeling as it tried to process this equally unnerving change of event.
''Depends," He said, standing his ground. "Jus' know that if you're lookin' ta kill me, reckon ya gonna have 'ta get in line.''
…...
Another Monday and another chapter to post! This was a great one to write because it's the pivotal moment where everyone and everything collide to the point we've been waiting for. Thank you as always for reading it and please post a review!