𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

73 | KIDNAPPED

"It ain't on there right, I can feel it. It ain't stopping."

"I'm getting it tighter. Jesus, give me a second."

"Son of a bitch, Michelle, you're cuttin' off my circulation."

"No shit, Donnie, that's what I'm trying to do!"

The morning sunrise emitted a feeble, golden glow, scarcely strong enough to pierce the dense white clouds and the thick branches overhead. In the spot where she had been forced to stand since their capture, Tori's boots had created deep impressions in the moist earth of the forest, the marks marred by the places where she had ground her heels into the soil.

It had been hours since they were cornered by what was left of the Saviors, and the man Tori had shot was still bleeding, still whimpering in pain every thirty seconds. So much so, it was driving his own people insane. Tori had seen Maggie roll her eyes more than once, whilst Carol kept a stone face, though her eyes were glistening as if she was holding back tears.

Tori herself, however, was struggling with how to feel. Though her throat had closed up and her breaths had become shallow, she stood as still as a statue. Almost afraid to turn her head or clench her fists. The recoil of the gunshot still made her arm throb, and the chill from the metal weapon lingered in her hands like ice. Her skin, dotted with raised hairs and goosebumps, trembled under her clothing, her face void of all colour.

With guns threatening to aim at her head, there was no chance of escape, no chance of running or fighting. She couldn't even speak unless asked a question by one of the Saviors. As she, Maggie, and Carol were all pushed to stand in a line side by side one another, all they could do was wait. Watching through the chain link fence that surrounded the satellite station's field, where the rest of their people were spreading out after emerging from the building. Any relief Tori could have felt at seeing all of her friends had escaped the station alive, was immediately overshadowed by the threat surrounding her. Even as the sun rose, the shroud of night's darkness lingered over her.

A series of distant gunshots bounced right to the small group gathered outside the fence, the redheaded ringleader, Paula, searching for the source of the noise with a set of binoculars.

"It's Primo," she told her people, watching the scene in the field for a few more seconds before snapping. "Damnit, they've got him. Give me the walkie."

Grunting painfully as he handed the device to her, Donnie asked, "What's happening?"

The woman ignored him, and the captive trio stayed silent as they watched her raise the walkie to her face.

"Lower your gun, prick. You with the Colt Python. All of you, lower your weapons right now."

The static crackled while she waited for a response, her gaze fixed on the group in the field. Tori wished she could have taken just a few steps forward to see her people, to see what was happening. The barrel of the gun in their youngest capture's hand was steady, only a few feet away from the side of Maggie's head, leaving them all trapped where they stood.

The radio hissed again, a reply coming from Rick, "Come on out. Let's talk."

"We're not coming out, but we will talk," Paula said, lowering the walkie for a second, turning to her captives. "Names."

"I'm Maggie, she's Carol, and she's Tori," Maggie spoke for them all, her voice low and reluctant.

Paula turned back toward the field, pressing down on the walkie again. "We've got a Carol, a Maggie, and a Tori. I'm thinking that's something you wanna chat about. Now, we're gonna work this out right now. And it's going to go our way."