Skeletons - 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 44 - 𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆

Iris and Daryl ran for hours. The sun had risen and they were still running down the dirt road in the direction Beth had gone. When they got tired, they jogged, and then walked, but they did not stop until it was well past noon. They met a four way intersection, the road to the left intersected by train tracks. Both of them were dripping in sweat, panting, their fear palpable. Daryl dropped his crossbow, plopping down in the middle of the road. Iris knelt beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

"We can't stop." She said softly. There was no way to know which way they went, but they had to try. "Make our best guess."

"Our best guess?" Daryl yelled, looking up at her. There was fury in his eyes, but behind it was just sadness. Iris knew his anger was not directed at her, and she sighed, head hanging.

"What the hell else can we do?" She nearly whispered. Daryl dropped his head too, adjusting something on his boot.

-

Iris had sat down beside him after a few minutes, hugging her knees to her chest while she waited for him to get his bearings. If they didn't move, they made no progress, but at least they weren't losing progress. They sat there for about half an hour, Iris realized as she glanced halfheartedly at her watch.

She stilled, however, as a loud group of slow footfalls echoed down the road. They were loud, slow, but not dragging, and accompanied by soft muttering between men. Not walkers. There were six of them, and as soon as they got near enough, surrounded both Daryl and Iris. Neither of them made any movements, keeping their heads on as they silently assessed the situation. Perhaps these were the assholes that took Beth.

One of them, presumably the leader, stepped particularly close, a shotgun hanging from a strap over his arm. He didn't aim it at them, but he had no need when the five others had their own weapons trained on them. At least two were armed with compound bows. Iris inwardly frowned. A bullet would hurt less.

"Well, lookie here." The first man said, calling to the others. "Hello there, kitten." He took two steps closer, bending down to pick up the crossbow, when Daryl socked him across the face. The others surrounding them raised their weapons, but Iris and Daryl were already on their feet. Iris had her knives at the ready as Daryl knocked the man down, peering down the scope of his crossbow. "Damn it, hold up!" He pleaded, holding one hand to his bleeding nose.

"I'm claiming the vest! I like them wings." One man called, adjusting his bow.

"You're claiming the vest? I'm claiming the girl." Another called, his eyes raking up and down Iris, even as she bared her teeth at him. "I like her spunk."

"Hold up." The first man repeated firmly, wiping the blood from his face. He started chuckling, laughing loudly as he pushed to his feet. "A bowman! I respect that. See, a man with a rifle, he could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day. But a bowman's a bowman through and through. What you got there, a hundred fifty pound draw weight? I'll be donkey licked if that don't fire at least 300 feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that. Course, I'd want one with a bit more ammo, and minus the oblongata stains."

"Get yourself in some trouble, partner?" The second man, the one with the bow, chuckled, the one who wanted Daryl's vest.

"You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop you several times over." The leader warned nonchalantly, staring down the loaded bolt. "Though, then I'd have no control over what they'd do to your woman, there. That what you want? Come on, fella, suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?" Iris' lip curled at that. "Name's Joe."

"Daryl." He replied lowly. Daryl slowly lowered the crossbow, the other men turning their guns to Iris.

"Put the knives down, sweetheart. Don't wanna ruin that pretty face." The third man suggested, taking a step closer. Iris was thankful Daryl stood steadfast at her back. She lowered the knives, flipping one in between her fingers before sheathing it, a small, silent threat. The others lowered their weapons, Joe smiling and nodding as he stared at them.