Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

UNCERTAINTY

"Kennedy, right?" The Governor smirked as I looked up at him from my position beside the dying horse. I held my ribs as I breathed heavily, glancing around and realizing it was just the two of us. Panic surged through me, but I tried to keep my composure.

I suddenly reached for my gun, but he saw it coming. With a swift motion, he hit me across the face with his gun, knocking me onto my side. Pain exploded through my head, and I tasted blood in my mouth. The world spun for a moment before I managed to focus on him again. He grabbed my gun from the dirt and then pulled my knife from my belt.

"Oh yeah, I remember you. You're a little fighter." He chuckled, his voice dripping with mockery as he grabbed me by my hair. Terror flooded me, memories of being held hostage in Woodbury flashing through my mind like a nightmare come to life.

"Get up," he ordered, his grip still tight on my hair as he yanked me to my feet. Every movement sent waves of pain through my ribs, and I grunted in agony. The roughness of his hold brought back a rush of memories I had tried hard to bury.

He dragged me a fair distance away, ignoring my cries of pain. My ribs ached with every step, and I struggled to keep my balance. The forest seemed to close in around us, the trees looming like silent witnesses to my torment. We reached his car, a dark, menacing vehicle parked just off the path. He roughly tossed me into the back, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I gasped for breath, struggling to sit up.

Inside the car, I found Hershel and an unconscious Michonne. Hershel's eyes widened in alarm as he saw me. The Governor bound my hands quickly before slamming the door shut, the sound echoing ominously in the confined space. The scent of old leather and metal filled my nostrils, mixing with the coppery taste of blood in my mouth.

Hershel was speaking to me, but his words were drowned out by the panic surging through my veins. My breathing was ragged, each inhale a struggle against the tightness in my chest. The sight of Michonne, usually so strong and fierce, now lying unconscious, added to my sense of helplessness. The confined space of the car seemed to close in around me, the reality of our situation sinking in with a crushing weight.

The Governor's face loomed in my mind, his cruel smile and mocking gaze. I struggled to focus, to find a way out, but the fear was overwhelming. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the racing thoughts, but the darkness only brought more memories of Woodbury: the hard floor, his cold eyes, his hands on my body.

Hershel's voice cut through my panic, a steady and reassuring presence. "Kennedy, stay with us. We're going to get out of this."

I opened my eyes, locking onto his calm gaze. His strength was a lifeline in the midst of my terror. Nodding weakly, I tried to take deep breaths, fighting to regain control. The fear was still there, a dark cloud hanging over me, but so was the determination. We had to find a way out.

The car roared to life, the engine's growl a grim reminder of the situation we were in. The Governor began to drive, the landscape blurring past as we sped through the woods. My mind raced with thoughts of escape, but the tight bindings on my wrists and the pain in my ribs kept me grounded in the harsh reality of our predicament.

As the journey continued, Michonne began to stir beside me. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion giving way to shock as she took in her surroundings and saw me there, bound and bruised. Her eyes widened, and she tried to speak, but the fear and anger in her gaze said it all.

The car slowed and finally stopped at a makeshift camp. The Governor stepped out and opened the door beside Hershel, treating him with a surprising gentleness as he helped him out of the car. Hershel's white hair and calm demeanour seemed to evoke a different reaction from the Governor compared to the rough handling Michonne and I had received.