Disclaimer: not mine.
Notes: This chapter is Definitely M rated so be warned! Violence, torture, angst and all that ahead. I tried not to be too graphic.
I purposely ended this chapter before anything too triggering I hope. But consider yourself warned if that bothers you,
Sexual assault is hinted at in this chapter.
Chapter Twenty
(Fin's POV)
I circle the house splitting them off as I go.
Sending them in from all sides; I need them focused on the Dead-not the people inside.
I sprint across the open field bent at the waist. My hands feel empty without my bow, but it won't fit through the window; and I'd rather know it's safe where I left it than risk leaving it outside where one of the Peacocks might find it. I'll need it if I pull this off…
The windows of the old farm house glow a pale yellow in the black of night, not much more distinct then moonlight; oddly shaped. I can't imagine what they're using for light, whether it's candles or kerosene lamps, it can't provide much more to navigate by inside then a few rough outlines of furniture. It's a pretty safe bet it will be pitch black or near to it in the cellar. God knows the last time those windows have been cleaned.
I drop to the ground rolling as tightly under the overgrown shrub beside the casement window as I can…And wait, counting my heartbeats. Straining to hear anything through the glass, completely opaque with filth. It's not long before I hear them approaching, their unsteady gaits ambling towards the smell, the light of the house.
No one has noticed the commotion yet; I'm just starting to feel beads of sweat on my lower back, when I hear the first gunshot crack. Someone shouts in the darkened yard.
There's more gun shots, and yelling the Dead are whipped into a frenzy by the noise; really making a ruckus now.
I roll towards the house, sit up, turn my head away and smash my boot heel through the window shattering the glass.
I can't stop, no time to worry if they heard me. It's too late to turn back, and my distraction won't last too long, especially with so many gun's going off in the dark. I smash my heel against the few fragments of glass still clinging to the old wooden frame, hope I don't cut the shit out of myself and scoot forward to slide through the window feet first.
It's awkward, and tight, but I highly doubt going in head first with an eight foot drop inside would be any better. I shift and squirm and luck out when my toe hits a solid surface while my shoulder blades are still on solid ground. I slide the sole of my boot across its width, some kind of tabletop or hutch?
I arch my back, shift forward and pray it doesn't collapse with my weight…or worse flip over and pin me. I land on a rough wooden surface with less noise then I expect…but that could also be the gun shots peppering the air outside.
Someone's a shit for brains shot; there's not that many freaking Walkers out there, Jesus.
A man's voice calls out the second I drop into the room. "That's no fucking Walker."
The linebacker is standing on the other side of a rough hue concrete wall, chest and face visible through the wide thick wire panels. I don't take in much more about him then his
existence though:
He's alive
I can't speak. Bend and leap off the rough wooden surface landing on the concrete floor, heart pounding in my ears. He's alive. Relief floods through me instant and sweet.
I let my feet carry me across the short distance to the grating. His hands smash between the wire squares, fingers digging into my shirt sleeves. I have to bring one hand up onto the wall, stumble forward when he jerks me off balance gasping his name.
Dark shadows obscure most of his face, his eyes catch what light there is from the broken window, spinning their depths into a swirling tangle of midnight blue in the low light.
"You out your damn mind?"
He's angry, voice barely more than a growl.
The hell did he expect me to do? Hide and save myself knowing what would happen here? Run back to Rick and the others empty handed, face Maggie and Carl and tell I left their friends to die?
His hands tighten on my arms; obviously waiting on an answer, he's so close I can feel his breath on my face. The memory of his lips pressed to my skin; the smart ass remark just before he walked away from me yesterday afternoon rises to the surface.
"Someone's got to save your ass." I quirk an eyebrow at him, give him my sweetest smile. His grip is so tight my fingers are starting to tingle…
"Get the fuck out of here right now."
He's behind fucking bars, in a God Damn cage. And he still can't accept my help? I narrow my eyes, hold his stare for several heartbeats. "No." Proud my voice doesn't shake.
He glares back at me, snarls a few choice words. If there wasn't a cement wall between us I might be kicking him in the shins.
He releases me suddenly like I've burned him. The wire grating protests as his hands jerk back through the square openings not quite clearing them. He slams his palms flat down on the lip of wall between us, eyes wild, breathing harsh…loudly echoing in the dark space around us.
I don't step back, refuse to. One hand still rested on the wall, I tell myself it's not to steady myself under that heated gaze though…
"My decision Daryl, not yours. Remember that." I lift my arm, slide my machete still in its leather cover to him hilt first through one of the gaps. His hand closes over the leather on reflex.
"Just in case."
Because being here has confirmed what I already knew.
There's very little chance I'll get this door open before they find me here.
My best hope is to do enough damage to the frame that between the big guy and Daryl they can force it the rest of the way open; fight their way out.
"Open this God Damn door." He shoves back on his hands, starts to pace back and forth like a wild animal in front of the wire gap, still glaring at me breath coming in sharp snarls. His eyes drift from my face to the skin I can feel exposed to the cold air, I can almost feel his eyes like fingers over my skin.
I step back, quirk an eyebrow at him. His gaze darkens. I turn my back take a deep breath, pull the hem down over my waist.
I quickly move in the dark, fingers running carefully in the low light over the tools scattered over the walls and work surface…try not to think about what some of these tools might have been used for in the past.
"Daryl who is…" Someone speaks behind me in the dark.
"The girl those assholes are always looking for?" He's stopped pacing. Is staring at me through the wire again when I glance over my shoulder catch his gaze, my stomach flutters.
"No shit." The other two men are staring at him.
He turns on them, "Hell you looking at?" Rubs a hand over his face.
My hands settle on a familiar shape a crowbar, probably my best choice. I quickly move to the door frame, slide the thin curved edge under the hinge and yank with all my weight, repeat the action several times. First on the top hinge, then the bottom.
They start to give, pulling away from the frame in short creaking groans of protest, and I feel a flood of relief; maybe, just maybe I can actually pull this off… actually get them out and we can all make a run for it.
"Fin, you gotta hurry up." Daryl is just on the other side of the door.
I jam the crowbar under the hinge again and yank; it shifts the door starts to lean just slightly.
"Working on it."
Hurry, hurry, hurry…
Voices drift to me through the open window Ken, maybe Mark? Several voices from the family calling back and forth to each other as they check the outside of the house.
If anyone opens that basement door they'll see me immediately…
"Babe, you need to hurry," Daryl's words catch me completely off guard. I freeze, heart pounding, staring at the door frame.
I can hear footsteps in the house, there's not enough time…
"Fin…" I barely hear him over my pulse.
"I know."
I'm out of time.
More footsteps upstairs, heading down the hall overhead.
I tried. God I tried…That's got to count for something.
"Hide now."
It's not going to help; the second they see the window they'll know. My heart pounds in my ears. I try to keep my breathing even, measured; slip back into the darkness between the work bench and the wall. Enough space that I can jump out when I need to-crowbar in my hands.
He's staring at me through the square wire; his shoulders rise and fall with each ragged breath face drawn and pale.
He knows. Or has just started to work it out…
I nod to him in the dark certain he can see the movement when his head jerks harshly hands come up to grip the wall separating us.
This was the only way to get them a weapon, to buy them time to work together…The Walkers aren't the distraction: I am.
The door to the kitchen opens heavy footsteps tread down the staircase.
He stops looking at me, pure seething rage rolling off him the tight set of his shoulders visible even in the dark as he stares at Mark and Ken through the bars.
"Sorry you missed it, had a bit of excitement up there."
"Damn Shame."
The wind rattles the open frame catching Ken's attention. "Shit, I thought Robert said they didn't get within thirty feet of the house?"
Mark frowns. "They didn't. checked myself, twice."
My heart beat is so loud they have to hear it…
I tighten my grip on the warm metal in my fist, palms sweaty.
I stand up as silently as I can, move with slow gliding steps eyes locked on the back of Marks bald head, I own him one.
I slam the crowbar down, Mark falls forward to his hands, I swing at Ken who's jumped away from me.
"Eli! Bobby! Get down here!" Mark isn't moving, but he groans from the ground. I must twitch with the thought of smashing his skull in because Ken barks a sharp. "Don't do it girl! You'll only make this worse."
Eli and Bobby: Caleb's brothers are coming down the stairs they freeze when the see me, but only for a second.
Eli lets out a low whistle. "And here I thought, I'd have to track that sweet little ass for weeks to pay you back for Caleb."
"That's just because you can't track worth a shit Eli." I hiss. "You couldn't find an egg in a hen house." Caleb was the brains between the two of them, and that wasn't saying much. Never underestimate mean and stupid though, I learned that last time.
Ken is chuckling, "Do believe she's got you pegged boy." He glances down at Mark on the ground, "Boys get your uncle up off the floor, that's a damn disgrace in the presence of such a fine sweet young thing."
Eli and Bobby move down the steps I back up two steps, let them grab Mark by the arms, haul him up. Ken grabs his chin, glances at his face as they drag him upstairs "That was one hell of a hit, going to have to pay you back for that."
"Don't you fucking touch her, you hear me?"
Daryl.
I blink. Remind myself that I'm not going to be sick in front of him, no matter how much my insides twist under Ken's gaze. I can do this.
"Boys send Robert down,"
They finish dragging Mark up the stairs. There are now several dark outlines crowding the top of the staircase.
"Fin, long time no see." Robert leans down from the doorway. "Why don't you come up here and we can have a chat,"
"Why don't you come down here and make me, bitch." My voice is steadier then I expect.
"The fuck you say to me?!" I could almost laugh, he's far too easy to rile up.
"You heard me, nothing wrong with your ears, limp dick."
An explosion goes off in the basement.
There's a flash of bright light and fire sears through my thigh. I cry out before I can stop myself stumble backwards, but manage to stay on my feet. I'm nearly deaf from the sound, ears ringing. One hand clamped over the small hole now seeping blood into the fabric of my pants.
Maybe I'll get lucky; piss him off enough that he'll make this quick. Can't be too quick, they need enough time to get loose.
Daryl is screaming obscenities behind me. I try to block him out, the pain helps.
I have to shout to be heard over him. "You're such a little Bitch. Have to shoot a girl half your size so you can take her? Oh, I forgot! Caleb's not around for you to catch his sloppy seconds."
Shit that works!
I have to leap backwards when he all but dives down the stairs at me. I swing the crowbar as I move clock him in the throat spin and swing my foot up with as much momentum as I can between his legs where he's bent over hacking and gasping for air.
Two down…Someone else jumps at me, hands trying to grab me... I twist, move my feet but there's not enough space…too many opponents…someone grabs me from behind. Arms wrap around my waist. I slam the heel of my boot into their foot, smash my head back into their nose and jam my elbow into their stomach. Twist when their grip loosens and slam the crowbar into somebody else's face.
I have a split second to savor the moment before someone's foot flies out in the dark, connects with the bullet wound on my left leg, Agony sears up my nerves my knee gives way and I crash down, lashing out even as I go; losing my only weapon when they slam me to the ground flat on my back. My hand opens in reflex when my skull smashes down to the concrete.
"Fuckin hold her! Don't let her up, Shit." Ken's got a split lip it sounds like; I don't remember that, but I'll take it.
"Get Off her!" He's screaming, drawing far too much attention to himself for this to work.
"Daryl!" He stops instantly; no one speaks for a few ragged breathes. "It's okay,"
He makes a strangled sound. "The Fuck it…"
"It was never going to work," I cut him off, press on. "You know that right?"
Please, know that this was my choice…understand that…
I jerk my shoulder off the concrete, twist when a hand clamps over the wound in my leg, finger digging at me; someone slams me back down. Anger and fear claw at my throat threaten to choke me, I gasp for air. "There's no way I could take that door down, I'd have to be someone three times my size to do that."
Get it Daryl; come on…put it together. Please…
"Let's take this upstairs where we can be more comfortable." Hands haul me up, taking more of my weight then I'd like to admit.
The darkness spins for a few moments…too many blows to the head: it's been a busy week.
"Say goodbye to your girlfriend," Someone calls out. I'm not sure who, the light at the top of the stairs is a little bit fuzzy…no make that everything is a bit fuzzy.
I can still hear him cursing and screaming when they shut the door behind us dragging me into the kitchen.
Ah, Fuck no.
Bravado only lasts for so long when the very real prospect of pain looms.
"I'm gonna kill that cunt!" Sounds like somebody got their voice back. Robert is sitting on a kitchen chair bent double, red in the face. Sniveling over one little kick. At least he won't be joining in on some of tonight's activities.
I can only hope I'm dead or unconscious at the very least before he's feeling amorous again.
"Well you shot her, shit for brains." They lift me up, slam me back onto the fucking table holding me down, their tight grips giving me way too much credit in my current state. Ken comes into view is looking down at my leg, grabs a bottle and pours it over my thigh.
I jerk, scream.
Holy Fuck. Shit. Hell…
"God Damnit!"
"Momma, come dig this bullet out of her so we can get her upstairs."
No that's okay;
We don't have to do that…
Hands are pulling my pants down, but I can't focus on that because someone is pouring more of what can only be described as searing liquid fire onto my thigh.
I twist and bite my lip, try not to cry out, make it worse for him downstairs…the ceiling blurs.
I blink gasping to put air in my lungs…try to remember why I'm here, what I'm doing…
No one speaks for a moment and I swear I can still hear him screaming downstairs even over the rushing sound in my ears. Then I can't hear anything because someone is jabbing at me, slicing down through my leg; and that's worse, oh God.
So Much Worse…
I try to kick, and twist, and scream and scream for ages…
and finally it stops.
I lay there wheezing, leg in agonizing pain…but it's less pain that it was a second ago and that's a Fucking Godsend…
Someone is lifting my leg, bending my knee, holding it there, my boot flat against the table's surface when it's obvious I have no muscle control right now. Shaking from head to toe, sweat dripping down my temples. It might be tears….I let them go. Room still spinning around me, trying to catch my breath. Prepare myself for what's coming next.
Ken leans over me. "Did you kill Caleb?"
"No…" my voice is a rough cry. He blinks in and out of focus, but he's starting to get clearer…
"That's bullshit!"
"Shut up Kyle." Ken stares down at me. "You see Caleb? Out there?"
I nod my chin once. "He still alive?"
Nope. But I'm having trouble trying to remember what happened to Caleb…it's hazy…
Oh, that's right Daryl killed him.
Definitely shouldn't tell them that…
"Found him, already turned," I gasp.
"That's bullshit!"
"Shut up Kyle! Take her upstairs. I shouldn't have to say it, but Don't kill her!"
They drag me off the table jostling my leg….it hurts like hell…Start to climb the stairs with me, dragging me up. Pain sears my thigh radiating all the way to my toes each time they take a step. I think I might pass out after all, that sounds good.
We reach the top of the stairs and they start down the hallway I'm not even picking my feet up anymore, they drag behind me. I get a unfocused look at a dark room with a bed.
Fuck, didn't pass out soon enough…
"Hey Dipshit, you're supposed to buy me dinner first."
"I'm gonna fucking enjoy this," someone hisses in my ear.
"Do me a favor and let me know when you get started," My voice slurs. They dump me backwards onto a firm surface.
"Last time I couldn't tell."
I don't want to remember what happens after that.
Notes: I'll try to get the next bit out on Saturday. Thanks guys!