Wings

Reunited(1/2)

"Fate had a weird way of circling back over paths that were meant to cross." — Gail McHugh

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DARYL

Daryl sat, frozen on the pavement. The road had split near the train tracks, and he lost it. He couldn't track on pavement, it left no trace.

He just...sat. Stuck. He was alone. Truly alone. He had never been that before. Even Before, he had Merle, and before that when Merle was gone, sometimes the kids in the neighborhood would let him hang around.

He had been stupid. He thought that things could be good. Could turn out. That he could protect her. That maybe she could help remind him that he was who he was now. Not Before. That they could live out their lives in the quiet mortuary on a hill, sheltered from the outside world.

In the distance, Daryl thought he heard a dog, but glancing around, he saw nothing. He barely even listened for the walkers. At that moment, he felt they could just take him. Daryl thought he might break. He had no direction. No hope.

That's where he was: in that road, in his mind. 'Til a pair of boots waltzed into his vision, and then several more pairs surrounded him.

He punched the one in front of him. Hard. He didn't even register it. It was instinct, his self preservation returning at last. As he recovered from the punch, his crossbow leveled to his eye in an instant.

"Claiming the vest. Like them wings," came a voice from behind.

The man that Daryl had hit, and had now trained a crossbow on, spoke up. "Just hold up..." the bloodied one started. Daryl thought he must be the one in charge of the brain.

The man kept talking. "A bowman. I respect that. Guy with a rifle could have been a soccer coach before but a bowman is a bowman through and through...what you got there? 150lb draw weight? I'll be donkey licked if that don't fire at least 300 feet per second. I've been lookin for a weapon like that. Course I'd want one with a bit more ammo....and minus the oblongata stains."

The man liked to hear himself talk, and Daryl was surrounded. The survivor left in him wondered what would happen when the man stopped talking, but he wouldn't let it show. He kept his bow trained on the man, never wavering.

"You pull that trigger," the man continued, "these boys are gonna drop you several times over. That what you want?"

Daryl said nothing just kept his bow aimed.

"Cmon fella, suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?...Name's Joe."

He dropped his bow. "Daryl."

—-

REMY

She didn't know how long she and Dax had been walking. She was exhausted, wearing all their gear on her back. She and Dax had found the tracks, but they stayed beyond the tree line. Up ahead, she saw pavement. It was a road that intersected with the tracks and split in two.

Dax chuffed at her side and then gave one, low bark. She covered her eyes to see better and saw that there was a person in the road. His back was to her, and she couldn't see well, but he seemed very familiar.

She almost stepped out. 'Til she saw a larger group of men, coming down the road. Then, the lone figure was surrounded.

Remy pulled Dax down, in the brush, her hand resting atop his muzzle to help keep him quiet. He seemed to take the cue easily, settling in.