Chapter Two

Hurt

The onslaught of bullets ricocheting around them had caused the three of them to find comfort and safety in an empty and looted pharmacy. Their breaths had hitched in their throats at the sound of the bullets piercing the thin plaster wall behind their trembling bodies. Sooner or later, they all noted, whoever was shooting like they had infinite ammo would run out of bullets and would be left with nothing to protect themselves. The number of shooters was a question in which they were unable to answer, and even Daryl found it difficult to identify the number of weapons being used.

Daryl huffed, fidgeting with his crossbow. The urge to go out there and fight for his group was increasing with every second that went by, but a little voice in his head automatically dismissed that thought. It would be suicide, he knew that. And there was no way that Rick or Glenn would allow him to do that. Compared to a gun and bullets, the crossbow didn't stand a chance. He didn't stand a chance.

Rick nudged him then, pointing towards the large domed mirror in the top corner of the back room that showed the shop front, as well as the direction the bullets were coming from. Daryl narrowed his eyes and saw that, despite the large amount of bullets making their way towards them, there were only two men who were behind the guns. Daryl stuck two digits up to Glenn who was facing them, as the sound of the guns stopping filled their ears.

"Stupid idiots," Daryl growled, loud enough for the two men to hear him. "Wasting bullets like there's no tomorrow. Don't they know there's an apocalypse going on?!"

The three men could hear cursing just a few yards away from them but made no attempt to move. The quieter they were then the better. The best thing for them to do was pretend to be dead, and so staying as silent as possible was important. At the moment they were in the best position. They could see the enemy, the enemy couldn't see them.

"We know ya there!" A voice, so rich of southern country, filled their ears. They made no move or any noise. "How many of ya?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at Rick. Rick glanced back and shook his head.

"We have people out here," the man shouted again. "Don't do anything stupid."

Daryl scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He was about to say something but Rick nudged him. Rick took a deep breath, and moved into a squat quietly.

"We mean you no harm," Rick shouted. "We're just trying to get supplies!"

Daryl motioned to Glenn to keep an eye on the mirror, and Glenn, understanding his instruction moved next to Daryl. Daryl moved into a squat, crossbow poised and ready. Rick, taking a deep breath and preparing himself mentally, stood, arms in the air, and watched as the two men raised their weapons at him.

"We mean you no harm," Rick repeated.

The two men were aged around twenty, nearly half of his own age. One was slightly taller than the other, more well-built. The shorter one had the attitude, and Rick surmised that he would be the problem, if there was one. The weapons in their hands were nearly as big as them and Rick could only assume that they had stumbled upon them. It would have been a lucky find for Rick and his group, knowing that weapons and ammunition were scarce at the prison now.

"What's your name?" Rick said to the taller man.

The man's eyes knitted together in confusion, and on a double glance of his name tag, glanced at Rick and nodded, uncertain. "Dean…?"

Rick nodded, his eyes narrowed. "We have women and children in our camp. Women and children who need us to provide for them. We mean you no harm, Dean."

'Dean' glanced towards the shorter man. The shorter man kept his gaze on Rick, his demeanour changing. His eyes were heavy and hard, as if he had nothing but death in his life.

Rick remained still, his eyes switching to both men. Daryl, on the other hand, was becoming restless. This whole waiting around and kissing ass wasn't working. He knew it. Rick knew it. Hell, even the walkers who heard the onslaught of bullets knew it. They were wasting time. The supply run was meant to be a quick affair, just an in and out job. This was something they prepared for, but when it actually happened, it was as if all the preparation had been for nothing.

"You got a camp?" 'Dean' asked, stepping forward. The shorter man, still unnamed and unknown to Rick, glared at him.

Rick nodded, slightly. "Yeah… just a small one. Mostly women and children."

"Yeah, you've already said that…" the shorter one said, and Rick heard the faint sound of a growl below him. He could sense Daryl becoming irritated and frustrated.

Rick had to think fast. Did he lie, and tell them that it was only him and a few other women and children back at the prison? Or, tell them about the family he had back at the prison, tell them the real reason as to why they were at the pharmacy? Either one wouldn't bode well with the shorter man, whereas 'Dean' would believe anything that he told him. They were young boys, in a world where they had to grow up faster than they wanted to, just like Carl. He had to think about his family, think about the threat the two men had on his family.

"Ya got room for a few others?" 'Dean' asked, his voice filled with hope.

Rick bit his lip. He thought back to when he and Hershel had been in a bar when the farm had been a safe place, and three men had walked in. They were sneaky, and shifty. Their words were empty, and their actions spoke volumes. He didn't trust them, and it was then that he realised that not all survivors were good people, that people were still as dangerous as they were before the outbreak.

But before he could answer, the short man had turned to 'Dean'.

"Are ya serious? We don't know him… for all we know he could be someone who kills people. And anyway… why do ya wanna leave?"

'Dean' shrugged. "I don't like it with him and his 'crew'. He has us out here killin' other survivors… where's the peace and harmony in that?"

"I don't like it either, but we're safe with him. We have a bed, food; water… so what if we have to kill some people? As long as I've got food in my belly and a pillow to rest my head, a little death never hurt anybody."

"We got the chance to get out of here, with other people; or on our own. We can still have that, just without the threat of death when we do something wrong…" 'Dean' whispered. "I ain't being funny but this could be our way out, Paul…"

"I ain't leavin'. Not after everything we've been through…"

'Dean' let out a sigh, turning back to Rick. "Ya got a place for one more?"

"Maybe… how many walkers have you killed?"

"Walkers?" 'Dean' asked. "We call them biters."

Paul gave a snort. "They still kill people though."

Rick nodded, "Yep. No matter what you call them, at the end of the day, they still rip our lives apart. But the same goes for humans… survivors like us. How many people have you killed?"

'Dean' shot Paul a nervous look and the shorter man shrugged. The shorter man spoke. "Enough… to stay safe, to keep what we have."

"He told us to do it though… I never wanted to kill people. Biters, yeah. But survivors… he made us do it."

And it all happened so quickly. The shorter man, identified as Paul had turned his gun towards 'Dean' and shot him dead, then turned his gun towards Rick and released the last bullet in the chamber, causing Rick to duck just as a bullet whizzed by his face, skimming him by just millimetres. He heard a grunt behind him and turned around, just as Daryl stood to his full height, crossbow aimed at the man, and discharged an arrow into the head of Paul. Daryl turned around to see Rick on the floor, covered in blood, his hands pressing down on Glenn's chest. He scrambled to the floor and added more pressure onto the wound, but the wound in Glenn's chest was still bleeding out, and no amount of pressure was able to stop the blood.