When the going's rough you can be sure,

I'll tough it out,

I won't give in,

When I'm knocked down I get up again

Daryl

Blaire twists around, searching for the source of the noise echoing through the trees. "What the hell is that?"

"Horn 'er something," I answer with a shrug, continuing forward.

Blaire twists again, looking out at the herd. Her fingers dig into my shoulder, "It's pulling them off the road."

"How many?"

Blaire lets out a long sigh, "Looks like the whole back half, too many to get back ourselves."

"We gotta keep goin'," I answer, reaching for the radio. "Rick!"

There is silence, static crackling on the other end, "I'm here."

"What's going on back there?" I question, glancing over my shoulder. We've only got about half the group distracted. The rest trails off into the woods, heading back towards home.

"Half of them broke off," Rick says over the walkie-talkie, breathing hard. "They're going toward Alexandria."

Abraham, who returned a few minutes before the horn started, grabs hold of Sasha's radio, twisting around in his seat to watch what is going on behind us, "Towards you?"

"We ran ahead," Rick explains, static cutting through his words as he moves further away from us. "There's a horn or something. Loud, coming from the east. It's not stopping."

Screw this. There isn't a point in leading these walkers away from home is there's no home to go back to. The people we left at behind aren't prepared to deal with that many at once. Half this group could bring the walls down. Maybe there's another way, a road where we can pick them back up, lead them away from the walls, "I'm gonna gas it up. Turn back."

"We have it," Rick asserts. "You keep going."

Rick's small group can't do that themselves. Even if they beat the herd back to Alexandria it won't do any good. The people there will get overrun or trapped inside, "They're gonna need our help."

For a few minutes, there's nothing but static and Rick's panting, "Gotta keep the herd moving."

"Not if it's going down, we don't." Leading this part of the herd away does us no good if the other part is broken off. It's more important to keep the people within Alexandria's walls protected. Right now, that means going back home.

"If the rest of that herd turns around, the bad back there gets worse," Rick answers, sounding sure of his decision. Those people back there can't do it alone. The group of fifteen running alongside us in the woods aren't going to be able to take down hundreds of walkers before they reach the walls of Alexandria. If we don't turn around and help, people are going to die. "Daryl?"

I chew at my bottom lip for a second before answering back, "Yeah, heard ya." Once more I glance over my shoulder, watching as more and more walkers diverge from the intended path, headed in the direction of home. "Hey, we gone five miles out yet?"

"Give or take some yardage," Abraham responds from his spot in the car next to me. "Got a reason for asking?"

Nodding, I point up ahead to where the road splits, "Next intersection we're gonna spin around and go back." Right now it's more important to make sure the people in Alexandria are safe.

"The plan is to go fifteen more," Sasha shouts back.

"Yeah," I answer, "I'm gonna change that. Fives gonna have to work."

Abraham frowns, "The magic number is twenty. That's the mission. That's making sure they're off munching on infirm raccoons the rest of their undead lives instead of us."

I turn, facing the two people in the car, continuing to drive the motorcycle alongside them. They could handle what's left of the herd; lead them on the other fifteen miles. They walkers won't break off to follow the bike, at least not enough to matter in the grand scheme of things. Sasha and Abraham can bring them on forward. Right now, Alexandria needs people who know how to fight.

"You wanna go, we can't stop you," Sasha announces, looking in my direction. "But without you, they could stop us."

Chewing at my lip, I glance at Blaire in the side mirror. She sits, head turned to watch as the herd behind us. If she's worried or scared, I can't tell. "Hop off. Get in the car with Sasha and Abraham."

"Daryl," Blaire turns around, her eyes catching mine in the mirror. "What are you doing?"

She'll be more help here, "You three lead them out. I have to help Rick."

"I'm going with you," Blaire protests, her fingers digging into my shoulders.

I'm not letting her argue this one. Rick and Michonne can't take on those walkers alone. They need my help. Sasha and Abraham need Blaire's help, "I said yer stayin'."

"You can't do this alone."

Digging around in my jacket pocket, I pull out the crumpled up package of cigarettes that Blaire wrote all over. "Here," Blaire's fingers curl around mine for a second as she takes the package.

"Daryl..." Blaire stares down at the cigarette carton. "Don't be silly. You're coming with us."

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. The people back in Alexandria need help. I need to be there. "I told ya, yer going with Sasha and Abraham. I'll get 'em from ya when we meet up again. Rick needs help." I wait for the argument, but none comes. Instead, Blaire pitches herself off the back of the motorcycle, climbing through the back window of the car next to us. "I got faith in ya."

The group behind me calls out in protest, trying to get me to stay as I rev the engine, pulling ahead. As the road splits, I turn back in the direction of Alexandria. The radio attached to my shoulder crackles, but Abraham and Sasha remain quiet, not telling the others I've split off from the original plan. Chewing my lip, I wait for her voice to come over the radio, trying to talk some sense into me, but it never does. Deep down Blaire has to know this is the right thing to be doing.

"Daryl," Rick's voice cracks over the radio as I continue up the road leading back to Alexandria.

Reaching for the button, I press it down, "I'm here."

"Won't be long now," Rick starts, breathing heavy. "They're almost here. I'll get them going your way again."

Is that possible? Did Rick's small group get the whole back half of the herd turned around and moving in the right direction again? "How 'bout that, Daryl?" Sasha calls out over the walkie-talkie. "He's gonna be coming our way."

"There's gunfire coming from back home," Rick continues as I speed up. The road splits again. I can circle back; meet up with Sasha, Blaire, and Abraham. We'll lead the whole herd the rest of the twenty miles. The people back home will be safe, at least from the walkers. "We gotta sit with it and hope they can handle it. I think they can. They have to. We keep going forward for them. Can't turn back 'cause we're afraid."

Static hisses through the radio, Abraham's voice cutting through it, "We ain't afraid."

"This is for them," Rick continues on, his words more for himself than the others listening. We all have people back home we care about. Not going to their aid feels wrong, but it has to be done. This threat needs to be handled so that those back in Alexandria are able to focus on whatever threat they're up against. "Going back now, before it's done, that'd be for us. The herd has to be almost here."

Three short pops—rapid fire—nothing. Static takes over the radio, filling my heart with dread. "Rick?" Silence. "Rick?" Static pops. "Rick?"

The low hum of the motorcycle engine is all that answers back as I continue to grow closer to the slip in the road. My heart tells me to go after the gunfire. My brain tells me that I need to go back to the group. For a second, I stop, looking each way. Rick is right. Going towards Alexandria, seeing if Rick is okay would be for me. Returning to Sasha, Abraham, and Blaire that's for everyone back home. As the beat-up red car comes rumbling up the road, I rev the engine, pulling out beside it.

Blaire hangs out the back, a smile plastered across her face. Brunette hair that she usually keeps pulled back is splayed out behind her. I think this is the most carefree the girl has been since I found her out in the woods. "Told ya he'd come back." Blaire nudges Abraham in the shoulder before quickly shoving her head back through the window. Her light grey eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun. "Abraham owes me a Butterfinger."

"You are not seriously cashing in on that?" Abraham questions. "My chances of finding one of those are about as great as the world righting itself."

Once again, Blaire leans forward, her hands snaking around the headrest, fingers curling around Abraham's shoulders, "Better start looking."

"All right," Sasha butts into the conversation as we pass a green road marker.

"That 20?"

Sasha nods, reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror. The herd continues on behind us, moving further away from Alexandria, "It will be. Six forty-two is a mile ahead. We gotta put distance between us and them before the turnoff."

"All right," I rev the engine, glancing at Sasha, "try to keep up."

Blaire

I watch as Daryl rides ahead. He's at ease out here despite all the dangers. The way his body moves with the machine, gliding gracefully against the slowly crumbling street. Just like every other time we've been beyond the walls, Daryl looks free.

Almost as quickly as it came about, the peaceful scene slips away as bullets fly through the windows. Twisting off the rotting leather seat, I hit the carpeted floor, fingers intertwining over the top of my head. Sasha swerves, taking us down a side road, doing her best to avoid the gunman behind us. Kneeling up, I pull the gun from my hip, returning fire through the busted out rear window. Once I run out of bullets I twist around just in time to see Daryl's bike slide out, the metal vehicle falling on top of him. Sasha continues to drive.

"We have to turn around!" I say panicked, grabbing for the door handle.

Abraham's hand wraps around my shoulder, shoving me back onto the ground as another round of bullets comes flying through the car, "No can do."

"We can't just leave him behind," I object watching as Daryl grows further and further away from us.

Sasha continues to zigzag along the road, "If we go back we're dead."

In an attempt to lose the car behind us, Sasha turns down an alley. Before us is a dead end, a wooden wall stretching across the opening. The wheels skid against the gravel, throwing all of us forward as Sasha slams on the breaks. Raising my arms I block my face as the front of the car breaks through the wooden barrier. Despite losing our mode of transportation, it does seem that those in pursuit have switched their attention. Daryl's bike roars past a black SUV plowing down the road behind him.

A dead one reaches through the broken wood, bony fingers flexing as it tries to slide past the car. Abraham begins walking forward, knife held tightly in his grasp. Sasha reaches out, grabbing the man by his elbow, "Leave it."

"Just gonna give it a last polish," Abraham responds with a grin.

Sasha looks annoyed, her eyes scanning the road that runs in front of us, "What the hell you got to grin about?"

"We won, darlin'," Abraham asserts, beginning to stride forward again.

Sasha reaches out, once more grabbing hold of the redhead. His reckless behavior is starting to wear on her already shot nerves. "There could be more."

As if on cue, tires screech against the pavement, the sound of a car engine growing closer. The female raises an eyebrow, dark eyes darting from Abraham to the street and back. That's an I told you so look if I've ever seen one. Without arguing, Abraham and I follow Sasha further up the alley, disappearing from the view of anyone coming up the main road. We take another side street, making a loop back the main road. For now, it's quiet, those involved in the ambush long gone.

"His bikes gone," Sasha announces, coming out from around the last dumpster lining the street.

Leaning down, Abraham picks up a metal casing, checking the end before tossing it aside, "Those are his shells."

"He fired at 'em, got away," Sasha says hopefully, glancing in my direction.

I don't share her optimistic attitude. Along the road are droplets of blood, the liquid still shiny and wet. That doesn't mean anything good for the bowman. I hate that we weren't able to continue after him, that we just kept driving when he slid out.

"There aren't enough people around to just wait around for somebody to ambush," Sasha observes. "They couldn't have just been watching us, not with what we were doing."

Abraham nods I agreement, his eyes sweeping the area, "Naw, they were looking to chew up someone in particular. Whoever the hell they were."

Frustrated with Abraham and Sasha's obvious observation of the situation we've gotten ourselves into; I reach over, unstrapping the walkie-talkie from the female's shoulder. We should be coming up with a plan, trying to figure out how to find Daryl. Depressing the button I let the static hiss for a few seconds before calling out. "Daryl, you copy? Daryl?"

Silence answers back.

"Dollars to doughnuts, he's on his way back to Alexandria now," Abraham voices, placing his hand on my shoulder.

Sasha walks over, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her pants, "He wouldn't leave us."

"He already did," Abraham responds with a frown.

Shrugging off his hand, I turn to look at the man, "He came back."

"He left her behind," Sasha says, her dark eyes fixed on me. There's more, but she keeps quiet.

The redhead shakes his head, shrugging, "What does that have to do with balls on a bull?"

"He'll come back for her."

Ignoring the implications in Sasha's words, I slide down the side of our now wrecked vehicle, pulling my thighs up to my chest. "Not if it wasn't safe. Maybe he ran into more of them. Maybe he's hurt somewhere. We shouldn't just be doing nothing."

"So," Abraham offers me his hand, "we go look for him."

Gratitude washes over me. I'm glad to have Abraham on my side.

"The best way to find a tracker is to stay put," Sasha cuts down our plan, her body blocking our path. "Let him find you."

Abraham gives the woman a questioning glance, her logic not making sense to him, "You just want us to sit here with our precious leathers in our hands?"

"No," Sasha steps forward, sinking the sole of her boot into a muddy patch to the right of the car.

The three of us move down another street lined with buildings. Most of the windows have been busted open, glass crunching under my boots. Papers litter the streets, handwritten notes scribbled across the slowly yellowing pages. Continuing on, we approach a line of stores. These look better off than the ones at the start of the block. The windows are intact or boarded over. Sasha stops, trying the door. It swings open, revealing a dark hallway. She looks to Abraham and me for approval.

"Good as any place," Abraham assures her, his attention drawn by a dead one moving up the sidewalk.

As he goes to kill it, Sasha grabs him by the shoulder, once again preventing him from making the kill, "Don't."

While they argue, I dig the tip of my knife into my thumb until blood begins to pool. Dragging my finger over the peeling white paint of the door, I write out Daryl's last name. Hopefully, he'll come back through here and see this. I'm not sure how long Sasha and Abraham will want to hang out before calling it a loss and going back to Alexandria.

"You two coming, or are you gonna keep arguing over the dead?" I question, yanking the door open before disappearing inside.

The lower levels are clear, rusty stains the only remnants of walkers every being here. As we continue towards the top floor, the air becomes thicker, filled with the smell of rotting flesh. Kicking the door in front of me, waiting for the familiar sound of flesh smacking against the wood.

"I'll get it," Abraham offers, holding his knife out in front of him, ready to charge at whatever comes through the door.

Rolling my eyes, I throw the door open, driving my weapon through the softening skull of walker waiting on the other side. It's finger's curl around my arm before it begins to slide backward, crumpling to the carpeted floor. "You don't have to kill them all."

Abraham wanders up the hall, knocking into doors as he does. I lag behind, kicking at the books and papers. The hallway leads to a big room filled with desks. The chairs have been tossed aside, drawers looted. To my right is a wall of glass, a rotting hand banging against it over and over in an attempt to reach Sasha who sits calmly amongst the chaos. "Just gonna leave it?"

"It's not hurting anybody," Sasha answers back casually, her eyes shifting lazily from the dead. The light has left her, a shell of a woman staring through me. I can't help but wonder if she took on the task of leading the walkers out hoping that she wouldn't make it home.

Sighing, I sink to the floor, watching the dead one try to claw it's way through the wall of glass, "Abraham is gonna want it dead."

"Then he can do it himself."

Moments later, the redheaded man lumbers into the room, thumbs hooked through the belt loops in his pants, knife dripping blood onto the carpeted floor. His gaze instantly falls on the dead one, "How come gorgeous over here is still standing?"

"He can't get out," Sasha responds as Abraham jiggles the doorknob. "It's locked. We're fine."

Abraham looks to me, crossing his arms over his chest, "You condone this behavior?"

"If it can't get out why go through the effort," I answer with a shrug, dragging myself to my feet. We have bigger issues than making sure one of the reanimated is put to rest. "I'm gonna try and radio Daryl again."

Daryl

My head throbs, vision blurry as I slowly open my eyes. The bullet wound is now wrapped, dried blood and dirt caked to my skin. Glancing around, I try to find anything that could be used to cut myself free. I should have gone back, found a way to loop back towards Alexandria. The ones that captured me continue to whisper quietly between themselves, arguing about who I am. They're on the run that much is evident. All three of them jump at the smallest of sounds, fingers pressed to the weapons at their sides.

The only male in the group fills my vision, "Get up. Hey, get up." I stare back at him, refusing to react even as he shoves the barrel of his gun in my face. Shooting me is only gonna give away their location to the people who are actually after them. "We're moving. Here's the deal. You don't say shit and I don't kill you."

"I ain't who you think," I answer, once again trying to reason with him. For now, fighting isn't going to do any good. The man has my crossbow thrown over his shoulder and the other two have guns.

The man shoves the gun against my forehead, the hammer clicking as the cold metal presses against my skin. "Say something else. Go ahead." I'm dragged to my feet, twine rubbing against my wrists, as I'm led forward. "Follow me."

We move further into the forest. The trees here are scorched too, ash hanging in the air. I could run, but where would I go. They kept me blindfolded last night as they moved me to their camp. While I could probably find it again, I'm weaponless, unable to defend myself if the people who are looking for them or walkers showed up. The blonde girl looks weak, stumbling along behind the others. The man and the brunette female seem to have their wits about them. I've not seen them interact, but I have to assume they'd protect the weaker one if it came down to that. Maybe that's my chance.

"Here, drink the rest," the brunette holds out a mostly empty water bottle to the blonde, shaking it a little to get her attention.

The other female takes it, staring at the depleted supply, "We should save it."

"We'll find more," the brunette assures, "Drink. You're supposed to stay hydrated. It all works together."

The blonde takes a sip, screwing the lid back on before handing it to the other girl. The brunette stares down at the bottle for a second before trying to pass it off to me "Have it."

I glare down at the water. I'm not taking shit from these people. Right now me drinking is fine, but a few hours from now when all the water is gone they'll use it against me. Beside me, the man snatched up the water bottle, "We don't need you falling down." The bottle is thrust into my hands. "Drink."

Holding the bottle, I stare down at it, continuing to shuffle behind the group. We were so close. Those walkers were far enough away to not be a threat. All we needed to do was get back to Alexandria and help the people there. We would've made it too if it hadn't been for the pricks on the road. I hope that Sasha, Abraham, and Blaire made it back. I don't want them out wasting time looking for me or waiting for me to come find them.

"They find us, maybe we give you to them," The man begins to ramble, glancing back at me over his shoulder. "Maybe they let us call it even. You see, we're reasonable people. Everybody's got their code. You feel you gotta kneel, that's fair enough. We don't."

What the hell is this kneeling nonsense? I haven't knelt before someone a day in my life and I don't plan on starting today. Despite wanting to protest the accusations, I swallow my words. So far it seems that the only way to make it through this is to keep quiet until I can find a time to get away.

"I can't believe we're going back," the blonde female grumbles.

The brunette turns, offering her an encouraging smile, "It's not home anymore, but it's better than where we were."

"This is a pit stop," the man cuts in, seeming annoyed by the girl's continued conversation. "We pick up Patty, nothing more than that."

As we continue through the forest, the blonde looks around, taking in the burnt trees and the charred remains of walkers littering the path, "How'd you do it?"

"You saw where we left the truck?" The female nods. "We opened the valve and drove all the way from Farmview Road. Ran from the tree line till we got to the pavement. Lit up a matchbook from the Sweetwater and dropped it on the trail. Then we just ran for the car. Got in and the dead ones were there. They were beating on the hood and then...boom! Knocked them on their asses and I took an ax to each one."

This whole part of the forest is burned. That must've been one big truck to create such mass destruction, "You did all this?"

"It was right at the start," the brunette explains, walking backward. "Everything stopped, the TV, the radio. We were here. The forest was full of them. And the other ones in town, they were drawn to it. They just walked right into the flames. We got most of them. Thought we ended it for us. And she was in DC," the female motions to the other. "We thought everyone was fighting them wherever they were."

The man frowns, shaking his head, "Yeah, we thought that was what everybody was doing. Fighting it. That we'd all win together. We were stupid."

"Y'all don't think you're being stupid right now?" I stop walking. From the sound of things, these people have been through a lot. Maybe, just maybe, they can be reasoned with. Not everyone starts out bad. There has to be a part of one of them that doesn't want to be doing this.

Once again the gun is pulled out, trained at the spot between my eyes. I stand tall, not letting the people before me see that the situation is making me uncomfortable. "Are you saying I should kill you? I mean it, are you gonna try and pull something on us? Are we just being thick here by not removing all doubt?" I remain silent, knowing that anything I say will only add fuel to the man's rage. "Right now, by not pulling this trigger, is that a mistake? I'm serious. I really wanna know. You made a choice to kill for someone else, to have them own you for a roof over your head and three squares, so maybe I'm not considering all aspects here. You tell me, am I being stupid?"

"No." I start forward again. Reasoning isn't going to work. The one in charge is blinded by hatred and the females will follow. "Look, I got somewhere to be. We can make a deal. I can help you out."

The man snarls, looking disgusted by the idea of accepting aid from me, "You're one of them. You're hurt and you're alone and you'd say anything. We should've never trusted you people to begin with." He walks forward, pressing the gun against the back of my head. "Go on. Keep moving."

Trying to reason has only made the man more on edge, the gun kept out and pointed at me as we continue our trek. I remain hyper-aware of my every move. The man is too wired, too ready to pull the trigger. I won't give him any excuse. The faces of my family flash before my eyes; Rick, Carl, Carol, Michonne...even Blaire. I wonder how long it'll take her to start smoking through the packet of cigarettes I left behind with her. Rick will hold the group together, leading those left with the same wisdom and courage he always has. The others will follow, fighting furiously to protect their new home and those that live within.

Eventually, we push through the trees, coming to a grassy area. Up ahead is a fence, blocking us off from a lot filled with walkers. I stay close to the tree line, watching as the others drop their belongings, wandering closer to the razor wire lined barrier. The bag with my crossbow lays neglected to my left. As the group begins to talk, I inch over, eyes trained on the other people. Reaching down, I curl my fingers over the straps, doing my best to lift it off the ground.

As the blonde crumples to the ground, I turn tearing through the trees. I can hear gunfire behind me, the shouts of my captors filling my ears. Urging myself forward, I continue on until my legs begin to burn, my lungs screaming for air. Up ahead, a root sticks out of the ground, sliding behind it, I catch my breath, using a nearby rock to saw through the rope. Leaning back again, I claw at the walkie-talkie still attached to my shoulder. "Sasha, Abraham, Blaire. Are you there?"

A hiss of static answers me back.

Let me know what you think. I always appricate comments :)