Disclaimer: Don't own anything from the Walking Dead, except my OC she's available to AMC…for a price ;)
Notes: Short chapter, Sorry Daryl is not cooperating. just snarling and threatening to smash things. I'm hoping to get inspired by tonight's episode…instead of getting writer's block!
Chapter Twenty-One
(Daryl POV)
"Tyreese pins his arms to his sides; tries to stop him. Keep him from smashing his shoulder into the God Damn door until he blacks out:
He can hear her…
The only sound over the roaring in his ears.
It burns him till he's nothing but white hot ash…
She's screaming.
It assaults him, tears him open-claws at his ears,
writhes in his chest and shreds his heart into
red hot ribbons of agony and guilt consuming him whole.
He's drowning in it.
When he finally comes up for air what feels like years later
she's still screaming…
…it's all his fault."
"Daryl Man, Keep it together! Come on!" He lashes out with his boot, tries to twists himself loose but Tyreese keeps his grip, just barely.
"She's up there! They're fucking killing her."
"And we're going to get up there; but you need to get your damn head on straight!"
"It's straight, fuckin g'off me!"
Tyreese releases him. They glare at each other in the dark for a tense moment, breathing fast. Tyreese jerks his head to the door. "On three?"
They move to the door, lean their shoulders against it, can barely fit all three of their bodies against it at once. It takes them a few tries to get the timing right. Every time he slams his shoulder into the solid surface pain radiates down his whole arm, after a minute his fingers are nearly numb with it.
Tyreese is gritting his teeth with each blow.
"Again!"
He ignores the pain. Blocks out the sound of Mikka sobbing in the corner and Sasha's shushing. One thought looping over and over in his mind,ripping through him with each blow.
She's up there.
They're doing God only knows what to her and it's his fault.
Glenn has to switch shoulders twice. Alternating sides with his smaller frame but he's not complaining, doesn't stop.
"Come on, Don't be a pussy let's go!"
They slam the door until it lurches sideways, twisting. The bolts of the top hinge yanked out of their concrete mortar. Several long three inch screws clatter to the floor.
Glenn picks them up, hands one of them to Sasha who's standing behind them now, one arm around Mikka, Molly close to her side.
Daryl wastes no time, vaults over the door; stops to help Sasha over then steps to the bottom of the stairs.
She stopped screaming just before the door gave way…he listens at the door while Glenn and Sasha help the kids and Tyreese squeeze through the gap in the door frame.
It's quiet upstairs.
He might be too late…has to get the kids out of here, that's why she came back.
He moves to stand by Sasha. "Think you can fit out that window?" She eyes it, she's taller than Fin, but not bigger. "Yeah, I think so."
"Okay, we get Sasha outside with the kids, get into the woods, move as far away from the house as you can."
"What are you going to do?"
"Aint no way me an Tyreese fit out that cookie cutter hole, maybe Glenn's scrawny ass…"
"Dude."
He ignores Glenn "…we go upstairs get our weapons, and get the fuck outta here."
"Hold up, you can't send them alone out there with no weapons. They just shot the yard up, probably attracted every Walker for Miles." Tyreese cuts in.
"Better out there, then in here with them."
"He's right. We'd have better luck with sticks and rocks against Walkers then guys with guns." Sasha moves toward the window. Tyreese helps her climb out, lifts the kids up one at a time helping them crawl on their bellies out the small hole.
"Go!"
They turn back to the stairs the machete in Daryl's hand, Tyreese has quickly located himself a sledge hammer from the tool wall.
"Seriously dude? That thing weighs like 20 pounds." Glenn eyes him for a second, shakes his head and grabs a hammer pockets the three inch screw he picked up earlier.
"All the better for knocking their heads off."
"Amen brother."
"Daryl," He stops, looks back at Glenn. "What are you really going to do when you get up there?"
He stares at him, mouth pursed. "How 'bout you let me worry 'bout that."
He moves to the stairs, climbs the short distance to the doorway. Grabs the handle, turns it as slowly as he can. Leans on it trying to be as quiet as possible, finds it's not locked; pops open with barely a sound. The hallway is empty.
He opens the door enough to look down the hall towards the kitchen, listens to the voices talking on the other side. His crossbow is still leaning against the fucking wall.
At least something's gone right today.
Glenn and Tyreese follow him down the hall moving as quiet as possible; the bow feels good in his hands, comforting and familiar. He listens at the kitchen door for a moment, signals to Glenn and Tyreese and busts through the door bow already aimed towards the first voice.
One of the brothers goes down with an arrow before he's even turned his head to the open doorway. Daryl just keeps walking not giving the other's time to react; he's already turning striding forward to slam the machete down into another mans surprised face.
Tyreese and Glenn are in the room now, makeshift weapons raised at the Mother. She doesn't move to defend herself, just stands frozen with her back to the counter eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open cut off mid-sentence by his attack. Nobody moves for a few tense breaths, she continues to stare one of the young men on the floor.
Daryl doesn't look down, can hear him sputtering for air next to his boots. He's too busy taking in all the blood covering one side of the wooden table. Raises his eyes, turns his head to see the mother has a bloody rag in one hand, blood staining her fingers, palms…her wrist…her apron front.
She couldn't chop up her body that quickly, she's got to be in here somewhere still…
"The Hell is she?" She doesn't answer, still staring at the body by his feet.
"I asked you a fucking question lady! Where the Hell Is She?!"
"Upstairs."
He raises his arm pulls the trigger. She crumples to the wooden floor before he's turned around. He's not waiting for Tyreese and Glenn to react, doesn't care if they follow him, he hears them grab weapons, but he's already moving down the hall again.
He's halfway up the stairs to the second floor, bow raised and ready when they catch up with him shotgun and rifle in hand. They move down the darkened hallway, stopping to listen for voices at each door. Glenn nods to him and opens the door to Kevan and Betsy's room…it's empty; the beds stripped bare.
"Shit. Where are they?" Glenn is looking around the room.
"You don't want to know." He turns back around.
They quickly check the room they used for sleeping during their brief stay, it's empty as well, stripped bare just like the other. They're already setting up for another group to come through...fall into their jaws.
He's not going to let that happen again, it ends now.
He picks up speed when he hears a sound from the door on the left, jerks the handle; shoves it open…
He slams into Eli with a roar.
They crash to the ground on the other side of the bed. His fist coming down; sending blood gushing from the other man's nose before Glenn and Tyreese are even through the doorway behind him guns up. He raises his whole body slams into him again cursing with every breath.
Eli's bucks and twists trying to dislodge him, making feeble attempts to protect his face. They're both screaming he realizes…tries to remember why that's a bad thing, can't bring himself to care when Eli bucks and he has to put one hand to the carpet to keep from falling.
Except it's not carpet, he realizes. It's her clothing: crumpled, and torn, and bloody... lying in a pile under his hand…right next to...
He jerks up face contorted with rage. "I'm gonna Fucking Kill You!"
"Get off him!" Kyle is screaming at him from the bed.
He's still up there with her…
One of those damn things might be his. His mind snarls at him.
His gaze flies to Kyle searching for evidence, realizes that Kyle's got a knife he didn't have before.
"You Hear me? Get off him or I'll slit her throat!"
Like fucking Hell he will. Hate rolls through him in thick black waves at the sight.
He's going to kill every one of them. He stands, leaves Eli bleeding heavily to jerk away from him, grab his pants off the end of the bed…That's not going to save him, nothing will.
Kyle's seated behind her on the bed, using her as a human shield.
Just like the fucking coward that he is.
His position neutralizing Tyreese and Glenn's weapons pointed at his chest...they can't shoot him without hitting her…but he can, he could…the desire to do it makes his fingers twitch …his insides roar with approval.
He can end this right now… and he might do it; except that his bow is strangely absent from his hands. And then there's the knife to consider...
Daryl stares at the knife blade to her throat, already smeared with blood…
He tries not to look at the rest of her. Fights a losing battle to keep his eyes firmly on her face…not sure he can handle seeing what else they've done to her, not with Glenn and Tyreese standing here…with every brutality on clear display it would be far too easy to slip into a mindless rage and get them all killed.
He was already planning to kill every last one of them if he could…this changes nothing except maybe how slowly he now plans to do it- how much pain he wants them to feel before he ends it…
She's hauntingly quiet. Staring past him, mouth set in a grim line that's split on one side. Blood is smeared down her chin, and across her cheek. Her right eye looks like it's starting to swell shut already. He tries not to lose himself at the razor thin slices on her arms and legs, the blood clotted bandage over the gunshot he saw her take in the basement. His eyes jerk back to Eli's bloody face. His fists clenched ready to strike him again; pound him into oblivion before starting in on Kyle, then finding Robert…and Mark…and Ken…
"Get the fuck off her." His voice comes out somehow calm, quiet.
Her eyes flick to his for just a moment, what he sees slices through his guts like a red hot knife.
Tyreese and Glenn both have long guns leveled at the bed, though they can hardly shoot with Fin in the way.
His crossbow catches his eye lying by Glenn's shoes…he doesn't remember dropping it. Glenn stoops to grabs it quickly, shifts across the room holding it out to him with one arm, keeping his gun trained on the bed. His fingers wrap around it, he checks the lock without having to look at it, the action second nature, instinct: as natural as breathing.
"There something wrong with your ears?" He needs to do something to keep from flying at Eli and Kyle ripping both their heads off…He turns back to level the bow at Eli. "Tell your skank ass cousin to get his hands off her, Don't make this worse than it already is."
Fin moves lightening quick without warning, drawing his attention.
She yanks the hand holding Kyle's knife against her skin down with both of hers, twisting his grip with a hand on his thumb, jerking her neck away in the same instant and then ramming the heel of her hand into his nose.
He sputters in shock and pain, grip loose enough now for her to jerk forward again. This time she twist to slam her elbow into his face; keeps twisting with the motion. Brings her leg up.
They left her boots on somehow, the dark leather looks harsh against her pale skin he notes absently. When she lashes out the force slams Kyle's head back into the wall above the headboard blood gushing from his nose and mouth.
Kyle's knife is now in her hand as she kicks out again tries to use the movement to leap off the bed. But whatever hell they've put her through her legs won't take her weight. She crumples forward not quite getting her feet underneath her. Staggers two steps trying to stop her forward momentum.
He has to move just as quick: jerking his bow with one hand to the side so he doesn't hit her with it. He steps forward dropping almost to his knees so she crashes into his chest instead of the floor. He brings his arm around her back, just like he did before when she needed help; pulling her tight against him.
He backs up a few feet crossbow pointed at Eli again partially dragging her. She hasn't said anything, hasn't raised her head from his chest. He risks a glance down at the top of her head…at the bite marks on her bare shoulders. His breath leaves him in a sharp hiss.
"Fin, Can you stand for a second?" He wonders if maybe she's passed out against him. From pain or shock, or both… He wouldn't blame her if she did; it would probably be a mercy if she could pass out. But she's tough as nails, takes a steadying breath. Nods silently, the tiniest jerk against his skin barely visible. Then pulls away from him. He keeps his hand on her till he's sure she's not going to collapse. Throws a quick "watch them" over his shoulder at Tyreese and sets his bow down again.
He hastily opens the buttons on his flannel shirt and pulls it off sliding it over her shoulders. Her own clothing still lays ruined on the floor...
He will not imagine them cutting through it; pulling it off of her while she fights against them, completely out numbered. Tries to block the image from his mind, like the one of her clothing piled next to used latex, it's too fucking much for him to deal with right now...
She slips her hands into the sleeves, holds the knife awkwardly in her hand as she starts on the buttons with surprisingly steady fingers. She's not looking at him again, stares at some fixed point over his shoulder.
Glenn and Tyreese are motioning to him that they need to go, but he knows they can't leave them alive. They'll just follow them, hunt them down.
Just like the Governor. You can't poke a bear without getting your hand bitten.
There will be no mercy tonight, can't be, not when they're dealing with monsters.
They've repeated this mistake too many times before, always paying the price… It's time to accept the lesson.
Now that she's got protection from roaming eyes and the cold he picks up his bow again. Moves in one smooth controlled motion, doesn't take his eyes off her as he raises it; turns his gaze at the last second watches the realization cross his face just before he pulls the trigger. He takes Eli down with one shot through the eye. He falls before he can even utter a sound.
Neither of these Bastards will ever touching anyone again.
Kyle lurches towards the end of the bed in panic. Before Daryl can shoot him Fin is twisting, arm raised in a throwing arc that hits home.
He hears Glenn swear across the room. Watches as Kyle flails on his knees, clawing at his throat, blood dripping down the knife handle, dripping onto the flower patterned quilt. Wet gurgling rasps escape him around the knife now embedded in his neck. Non-words croak from his mouth.
His gaze is on her, watching every muscles tense in his body; ready to jump forward between them, even as she marches towards the bed. Still not looking completely sound on her own feet. His long sleeved flannel shirt is almost a dress on her. Too long sleeves shoved up over her forearms, just the skin of her pale legs exposed.
She doesn't hesitate, or flinch when Kyle's hands reach for her in blind terror. Instead she uses his hands to yank him towards her, grabs the back of his shirt in both hands. She uses the leverages of her grip to pull him towards the edge of the bed like a limp ragdoll. His panic quickly makes any resistance to the motion-despite her diminutive size utterly impossible. She grabs the back of his head next, while he watches; takes in the blank absent look on her face unsure if he should stop her or stand back and let her end this on her own…He has no doubt that she's capable of doing just that.
"How many people have you killed?"
"Eight." The words ring in his mind:
"but they were all monsters…"
She shoves down on Kyle's skull while twisting and lifting her knee; smashes his face with the motion. The movement simultaneously connects with the handle still protruding from his throat, sending a gush of blood running down her leg and onto her boot...the floor...
Fin grabs the handle, jerks it out and shoves him away to flounder against the mattress in his death throws.
Nine.
She just stands there for a second watching Kyle thrash. Face entirely too calm for the marks on her skin, to calm to be dealing with the aftermath of this room…
There's a loud shotgun rack from the hallway outside the door, then a second one.
Glenn spins to face the sound.
"How about you boys drop it?"
"Not a chance in Hell."
This is not good.