When the dead roam - (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 39 - Good luck, you're gonna need it

The group came to a clearing. High metal fences bordered a car park filled with gas tanks and trunks. It enclosed dozens of walkers, trapping them inside the walls and forcing them to walk around in circles. Death lingered in the air, the intoxicating smell forcing Daryl to cover his nose for a few seconds before he readied himself to take in the stench.

He was pushed forwards by the blonde male and he stumbled slightly. "Move it!"

The female companions moved stray branches out of the way and stepped through the bushes, scanning the dead enclosed for their friends whilst Daryl watched them from the sidelines. If he waited long enough, he could make his escape.

"Son of a bitch" the male grumbled again, his voice barely above a whisper. He squinted his eyes, zeroing in on the 'walkers' as he searched the crowd "Patty..."

"She could..." the brunette walked to his side "She could still be..."

"Nah...she's gone" he sighed, running a hand through his dirty hair.

"Then we make another plan"

"Yeah, we get out of here. That's the plan" he stated as the other female joined them at the gates.

"You guys didn't have to do this for me" she said, her timid voice hard to hear over the growls of the dead.
The brunette wrapped her arms around her shoulders and brought their bodies together "It was the right thing for all of us"

"This was the right thing?"

"Even if you guys went back now" the man said quietly "If you just told them that it was me..."

"No, we'll find a way"

Daryl inched forwards slowly, careful not to step on anything and reached for the black duffel bag that had been dropped to the floor.

"Just think about it"

"No!"

Whilst the three bickered, he wrapped his fingers around the handle.

"Look, maybe we don't get as far, but we'll get - HEY!"

Daryl took off. Bullets ricocheted off the trees besides him and the group started to yell profanities but as the young blonde dropped to the floor their attention shifted.

"Tina, hey!" the brunette yelped, fear radiating off her as her sister dropped into her arms "Hey, baby sister, look at me"

For a moment Daryl regretted his decision. He temporarily second-guessed his actions but swiftly continued running anyway. His feet carried him for a good five minutes before his body gave in from dehydration and he collapsed behind a fallen tree trunk. The bag landed beside him, his crossbow hanging out slightly. He reached for it instinctively as a 'walker' approached from behind him but it refused to budge from the fabric. He shook the bag, rattling it rapidly but still coming up empty handed. His hand fumbled beneath the zip and he tucked his fingers under the foregrip and pulled. It broke free at the last moment and he turned and fired.

The arrow embedded itself into the skull, forcing its way through the eyeball in it's path and sending the dead to the floor. Daryl breathed in harshly, finally finding a second to catch his breath.

"Sasha, Abraham, you there?" he grumbled into the radio he retrieved from the duffel. When there was no reply he grumbled and hooked the plastic box onto his jeans and kicked the bag angrily. "Dammit!" his foot connected with a box that clattered under the impact "What the hell?"