Skeletons - 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 3 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒑

"Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat." Glenn teased as they walked under the overpass. He was surprisingly chipper despite the hostage situation. The overpass came off the interstate into the city, and supposedly where he parked their van every time he came into the city for a run.

"Don't tell anybody." Rick replied with a smile. Iris walked quietly beside T-Dog, an uncertain feeling curling up at the base of her skull. She hoped more than anything that this group could be something good. Like Guillermo said, there were too many bad people left. 

"You've given away half our guns and ammo." Daryl grumbled.

"Not nearly half." Rick replied.

"For what? Bunch of old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow?" He asked. "Seriously, how long do you think they got?"

"How long do any of us?" Rick retorted. They walked around a bus that blocked their path, only to find no van waiting on the other side. Iris watched as their faces fell.

"Oh my god." Glenn mumbled.

"Where the hell's our van?" Daryl asked.

"We left it right there, who would take it?" Glenn wondered.

"Merle." Rick answered firmly.

"Your brother?" Iris asked, frowning at Daryl. He nodded, sucking on a tooth.

"Yeah. He's gonna be taking some vengeance back to camp." He replied. Iris glanced around at their current surroundings, her eyes landing on an SUV not far from the train tracks. She ran for it, finding a wooden stick spearing through the windshield, a walker pinned to the driver's seat. 

"What are you doing?" Glenn called.

"Wanna get back to your camp or not?" She called back. With a sharp stab she killed the walker through the open window, opening the door to tug him out. Daryl jogged over, opening the other door and beginning to kick the broken windshield out. He popped the hood, checking it over as Iris ducked under the steering wheel and pulled wires.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Rick asked, he and the others having decided to join in. 

"Gonna arrest me if I tell you?" Iris asked, the engine roaring to life. He said nothing as she sat up. "Wouldn't be the first time." She answered simply. Glenn got in the drivers seat, all of them rushing on borrowed time.

It was dark by the time they pulled into the side road toward their camp. They were halted only by the sound of gunshots, screaming. A few walkers wandered down toward the car, but Iris' sinking feeling was coming to a head. They spared no time in jumping out, guns blazing. Iris followed Rick past tents and small clearings to a fire pit and an RV. 

There were children screaming as the adults shot the walkers down one by one, making use of their new guns. There were already people on the ground, the walkers feasting on fresh flesh.

"Baby! Carl!" Rick yelled, running into the fray. The survivors were huddled around the RV as Iris and Daryl shot out the rest of the walkers, bloodied and horrified. 

"Dad!" A young boy yelled, sobbing as he ran into Rick's arms. A woman with long brown hair collapsed into them both. Iris glanced nervously at the ruined camp, the sobbing kids. Some of the adults hadn't made it. Glenn was panting, his voice hoarse with panic as his knuckles turned white, gripping the gun. Iris put a hand on his shoulder, trying to even out her own breathing.

"Jesus." She whispered, wiping her blood coated knives on a dead walker's shirt.

The little boy, Carl, was sobbing into Rick's chest. A young blonde woman was kneeling beside the RV, the bloodied body at her feet sporting the same head of blonde hair.