Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
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Daryl stood in the ransacked mess that had once been a somewhat respectful hunting supply store. Heavy shutters at the windows had concertinaed outwards, tattered and bloodstained, shards of thick glass littering the inside, but even those frail tattered shutters couldn't dispel the rays of light that filtered unevenly.
A solitary walker, it's feet trapped between torn shelving had turned towards them, the few yellowing stumps of teeth remaining in it's jaw clacking hungrily as it shuffled and tumbled over itself in it's greed, stupidly trying to reach them. Rick stood next to it, his head slightly cocked to one side as if he saw something else there, something that Daryl couldn't see.
He raised his crossbow, hesitating. "Rick," he called softly, frowning when the man paid him no response.
"Why are you here? I thought the prison...you shouldn't be here, no...you're not," Rick whispered suddenly.
Daryl felt the small hairs on his arms prickle, shuddered as an icy chill slipped slowly down his back. Lowering his crossbow, he thrust the straps about himself and grabbed at his knife. A few paces and he was across the floor, shoving the sheriff unceremoniously out of the way as he bent down quickly, thrusting his blade into the walkers dead. It plopped to the floor in a hiss of fetid air, blood oozing thickly across the floor.
Daryl glared at him, wiping the blade on his grimed pants. "What the hell man?" he demanded.
Rick stood with his head bent, before raising one hand slowly and rubbing at his face with one palm. He gazed at Daryl slowly, his blue eyes dull and groggy as if he were slowly awaking from a deep sleep.
"That walker damn near had yer ass. Snap out'a it!"
Daryl angrily felt that he was fighting a losing battle with himself. Fear and impatience rolled heavily in his gut. He was concerned for Rick, for the way that he just simply stood there, an almost slack jawed, eyes glazed expression. The other part was torn, worried about the way that Merle had seemed more than happy to have Carol accompanying him. He'd seen the slight jubilant cast to his brothers face as Merle had briefly smirked at him, and he would have been downright lying if he didn't admit that it ate at him. He'd seen that look before, knew exactly what it meant. Meant his asshole bro' would try and put some sort of move on her, and he wasn't there to stop him. Like it had always been. Merle might be an asshole of the first degree, but he always had been a charismatic asshole.
And of all the stores that Merle had to find, it was just so fuckin' typical that he had latched onto the only drugstore across the street.
Not just that, now he was stuck with crazy town Rick. Whatever the hell was up with the former sheriff he needed to snap the fuck out of it. He'd seen Rick lose it back at the prison. Glenn had said privately that Rick had gone walking crazy town, and Daryl thought that was an apt turn of phrase. But now really was not the time to go all out looney-toons.
Daryl let all the pent up air in his chest out in a long drawn hiss of breath, before tersely prodding a finger in Rick's chest. The man jolted a step under the pressure and Daryl felt his hand curl into a fist. If he had to, he'd knock that shitty vacant gaze off his face.
He was relieved when he saw Rick finally shake his head, heard his sharp intake of breath, the way his hand reached across to rest calmly above the holster at his waist.
"Thought I'd lost ya there for a minute man," Daryl said, noting the way that Rick's eyes had thankfully lost that vacant glaze.
"What happened?" Rick questioned, pausing before saying softly, "I'm sorry."
"No fuckin' clue," he replied, pushing his way past him, trying desperately to forget. Now Rick was back, all compos mentis, Daryl couldn't help but feel somewhat embarrassed by the whole scene. He stood with his back to the man, chewing nervously on a thumbnail, while casting his eyes around the store, listening to the long heavy booted stride as Rick eventually stalked across the store.
"A few cartons of ammo, two rifles. This place must have been hit hard by looters at the start," Rick said abruptly.
"Wasted fuckin' trip," Daryl growled as he searched through boxes, tore through the remaining shelving, throwing baseball camps with cheery logos and overly brightly coloured vests all over the floor. He spied two brass handled pocket knives and a spool of fishing reel, thrusting them into his bag without a second thought. Rick had seemingly fared a little better, two rifles and a shotgun were slung by their belts over his shoulder, and clenched in one hand was a pair of binoculars.
Hearing a sudden sound outside, his skin prickling with a sharp foreboding, he rushed out, the sight turning his feet to lead. He heard Rick's rapid sharp intake of air a few seconds later as he stood next to him.
Daryl felt the breath freeze in his chest, felt it seep through his body and arms and legs, felt the sheer immobilizing panic that shredded it's way through him. His limbs felt locked in place, feet frozen to the tarmac. The sheer amount of walkers-herd he corrected himself fearfully, was one of the largest he had seen in a while. He had no idea how many there were, or where they'd come from, but as he watched he saw stragglers at the edges of the street converging with the mass now ambling towards them. Bile rose thick and acrid in his throat and he gulped it back, wincing. Merle and Carol were still in that fuckin' drugstore, and they had no chance to get to them. His hands shook as he tore the crossbow off his back, knowing that a few paltry bolts wouldn't so much as make a dent.
He cast a fearful look at Rick, his eyes dropping to the pistol in the sheriffs hand. Rick wore the same tight fearful expression as he did, but there was a determined shine to his eyes.
"We have to leave Daryl, and we have to leave now," Rick hissed firmly.
"No, I ain't gonna leave them, no fuckin' way. 'S my brother. Carol. We have to help 'em," Daryl heard a slight whine to his voice, unable to stop the fear from reaching it. He flinched suddenly as he felt a hand close over his fore-arm, the grip tight and strong.
"We leave now," Rick repeated, and Daryl felt the stupefied rage surge through his body. He wrenched his arm from his grasp, angrily shaking his head.
"We go, but we can give them a fighting chance to get away. It's all we can do. You have to trust me Daryl."
"I...jus' ain't gonna stand here and do nothin' Rick. Lost 'em both before-an' it ain't happenin' again."
Rick stooped his shoulders, twisting his head to the side, blue eyes riveting firmly on Daryl's. "Remember Atlanta? Glenn and that damned car?"
Daryl thought back to that time when they'd gone back for Merle, finding him gone and he nodded begrudgingly, twisting his gaze from Rick's. He thought he saw his brother stood at a window, thought he saw Carol stood behind him. His gut wrenched sickeningly again. The walkers hadn't seen them, hadn't picked up their scent yet, even though they were now only two car's distance from the drugstore. Even if Merle and Carol could get out, those fuckin' walkers would pick up the pace and be on them in no time. He tried to ignore the image that sprung instantly unbidden, of his brother, of Carol being torn apart...he was suddenly aware that Rick was still speaking, his tone hushed and urgent, and with a wrench of willpower he blanked the image from his mind, and focused on the man's words.
"We have the upper hand, we are nearer to the car. We can do this Daryl, but I need you here with me now. Are you with me?"
As he stared down the former sheriff, he thought he'd never hated anyone as much as he did right at that moment, but then understanding slipped keenly through his body, thawing his thoughts and freeing his feet.
"Yeah, I gotcha," he muttered darkly through clenched teeth.
Rick nodded at him. "Let's move then. Give them that chance." He slipped across the tarmac, drawing his gun from it's holster. He paused, his eyes narrowed grimly at Daryl before raising his pistol, firing several shots into the heavy throng of walkers. A few fell to the ground, but more pushed ahead.
Daryl raised his gun, following Rick's lead, firing into the crowd. Four more fell to the ground heavily in a tangle of rotting limbs. A few precious seconds later and a few more stragglers seethed across the sidewalk to the join at the front of the herd, nearing the windows of the drugstore. He risked a few paces forward, ignoring Rick, to wave across to Merle. "Stay back!" he shouted, gesturing one hand. He yelled again, seeing with some satisfaction the walkers heads turning towards them. He gestured one last time, calling out I'll find ya brother, relief coursing through him as he saw Merle finally acknowledge him, before he dashed down the street hot on Rick's heels, tears stinging his eyes. He'd go back, he'd find them, it wasn't a question, it was a damned fuckin' surety.
Wrenching open the Hyundai's door, Rick threw in his backpack and the guns that had been slung across his shoulders. Daryl glanced back up the street, firing two more shots, before dumping his crossbow and bag in the backseat alongside Rick's.
They sat in the car a few seconds longer than was necessary, the car's engine idling steadily, almost reassuringly, watching as the throng shambled gracelessly throughout the cul-de-sac. Daryl felt his heart thump a sick tattoo in his chest, the sound coarse and deafening in his ears. His knuckles glowed white as he balled his hands tightly into fists at his sides.
Rick still had his hand pressed firmly on the car's horn-echoing a time when Glenn had once done something similar in a small red sports car, alarm blaring ear-achingly loud, drawing walkers from them, allowing them escape. Daryl risked a quick look over his shoulder, seeing more of the damned hateful things lumbering towards them.
The car pulled off agonizingly slowly, horn still blaring, as the walkers changed direction, veering off their intended course and heading straight for them.
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