Lost ; Daryl Dixon

Chapter 18

You felt like you were in a daze. You knew it was important to keep up appearances, to not confine yourself to your tent and hide, but as you stumbled around the camp you felt like one of the walkers, unaware of anything that was happening around you and yet somehow completely alert at all times, as though looking through fog but straining your eyes to try and see, driven by one need and only that one need: to escape. Helena's smiles, although always seeming fake, now looked twisted and macabre; Stevie's huffs of impatience as he guided you around were less insulting and instead marked the passing of time as the hours until your intended death ticked by. You figured they must have set a date and time, though you wouldn't know it. You didn't see any preparations, didn't hear any whispers. They'd got this down to an art. If it hadn't been for Eddie, you wouldn't have had a clue.

You hadn't even thought about slipping out of your tent at night until your survival had depended on it. The guards that manned the fences at all times were suddenly your jailers and, though you could fight if you needed to, without weapons you didn't fancy your chances of getting past them. Escaping under the cover of darkness may have seemed like the better option, but realistically it was impossible, and you cursed yourself for not turning tail and fleeing as soon as Eddie had told you the truth about the Congregation's desperate rituals. You could have had some sort of head start, maybe enough of one. You would have at least had a chance. Now, you were trapped and your days were numbered. Your only hope was that Eddie was still trying, that he'd find a way to get you out before it was too late. Either way, you'd sworn that you were not going to die hung up on that cross in some sort of misguided promise of salvation for those that looked on. You would fight and kick and scream until they had to shoot you or beat you to death before you'd let that happen. If you were going down you were doing it your way, and if you took a few of them with you on your way out, even better.

*****

'I know this sounds insane, but this is an insane world.' Rick's voice was barely audible above the groans and snarls that emanated from the pit below the ridge you were all stood on. 'We have to come for them before they come for us. It's that simple.'

You could feel the waves of heat coming off of Daryl as he stood at your side, his eyes scanning the crowd of walkers jostling in the valley. There were more than any of you had ever seen in one place before, and you could only imagine the force of destruction they would become if they got free. How long, you wondered, had they been sliding down into the gaping hole, attracted by the rasping growls of those already trapped? How long had it taken for such a ginormous herd to form? They would tear down fences, walls, whole communities, ripping through the survivors like locusts. Which was why you were all gathered above them, listening as Rick began to lay down the plan once more. It had taken a lot for him to convince the Alexandrians that it was necessary to take action, and now that he'd gotten his way, he was drilling every step into their skulls, knowing that they weren't like you, that they were unaccustomed to combat, unhardened by the fight to survive.

As he spoke, you surveyed the scene before you, reaching for the archer's hand and lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight, a silent apology for all of the stress and the fighting. You'd hated him leaving, heading out onto the back roads with Aaron in the hunt for more living people to recruit into the Safe Zone, but he was still by your side when it counted, when shit was going down. Only the solidity of his body next to yours was stopping your anxiety from going into complete meltdown. You could feel the tightness in your chest that preempted a panic attack, but you were keeping it in check so far, drawing strength from your partner.

Movement in your peripheral vision drew your attention, and you took an instinctive step back as you watched one of the jackknifed lorries that had been holding the biters captive shift towards the edge of the cliff, dust flying up from beneath its wheels as it was jostled and shoved inch by inch out of the way.