𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

5 | SEARCH FOR MERLE

Daryl was breathing heavily, grunts shaking the back of his throat. He yelled out and spun around, lifting his crossbow, and aiming it at T-Dog. Rick didn't miss a beat in pulling out his Colt Python, aiming the barrel at Daryl's head.

Not even one of the three men so much as flinched despite the quick actions. T-Dog lifted his chin, looking Daryl right in the eyes.

"I won't hesitate," Rick warned, cocking his gun. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

Daryl's arms were shaking as he held the crossbow, breathing sharply through his nose. He lowered the weapon, and he blinked a few times to hold back the tears building behind his eyes. He didn't even look angry - just upset and scared.

Tori pressed her lips together and looked away from the man, staring at the ground by her feet. Since she met him, Tori had never pegged Daryl for someone that would cry about anything. Seeing him try not to completely break down was awful, despite the animosity between herself and the Dixon.

"You got a do-rag or somethin'?" he asked T-Dog.

T-Dog nodded, pulling the do-rag from his pocket, and handing it over. Daryl crouched down and gingerly picked by the severed hand by one finger, holding it up to inspect it. His nose turned up a little as a drop of blood fell from the appendage.

"I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs," he stuttered, his voice still a little shaky. "Ain't that a bitch," he mumbled, wrapping the hand in the do-rag.

He walked over to stand behind Glenn, unzipping the rucksack and putting the hand inside. Glenn just sighed; his face scrunched in disgust.

Tori's arms folded as she frowned. "That's my bag," she muttered under her breath.

"Deal with it," Daryl deadpanned as he walked by her.

Normally, Tori would have bit back some kind of snarky response. But Daryl was already dealing with the fact that his big brother was missing somewhere in this city, bleeding out. So, she bit her tongue, just this once.

There was a very thin trail of blood on the ground, and Daryl scanned it briefly with his eyes. "He must've used a tourniquet, maybe his belt," the younger Dixon figured. "Be much more blood if he didn't."

T-Dog started collecting the tools on the ground and tossing them into their bag to return to Dale when they got back. Daryl began following the trail of blood, and Rick nodded over to Glenn and Tori to get them to follow him.

The trail led them around to another door which took them back into the building. With his crossbow up, Daryl carefully pushed the door open and stepping inside. Rick was close behind with his gun ready to shoot. Tori held her knife firmly in her right fist, while T-Dog and Glenn followed on close behind.

They turned a corner, arriving at a different stairwell. On the dusty vinyl floor, the blood trail continued, travelling down the stairs.

"Merle," Daryl called out. "You in here?"

His voice echoed, bouncing off the walls until it went silent again. With no response coming back, the group began they descent down the stairwell in the search for Merle. The paint on the walls was chipped and crumbling off the stone. The windows were covered with a layer of dust, still letting plenty of light through.

They made their way down through the floors, following the trail of blood which can't have been more than a couple of hours old. It was dry, but each drop was still red; not black like a lot of the blood left behind by the walkers.

Quiet as mice, the group of five snuck through the building, listening out for the sounds of any movement or life coming from all directions. They had to be on guard – after all, this building was filled with hundreds of walkers just over a day ago.