❛ now daryl, daryl was gray. he always seemed to be bitter and emotionless with no other dimensions to himself; his mere presence was the only one. gray was intriguing, almost acting like an acquired taste, but it had the potential to be beautiful t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
fourty three.
We all stood up, recovering from the smoke inhalation we just endured. Everyone's ears seemed to perk up when the growler from biters began to crescendo from around the train car. I stumbled over to the peephole, limping past Sasha and Michonne.
"They're everywhere," I said, flabbergasted. A decent amount of biters roamed the grounds around us, oblivious to the fact there were several people trapped inside this humid, sticky car. "How the hell did they get over the fence? Those bastards can't climb."
"Someone must've let them in. Maybe someone's taunting us," Tara worried. A huge sudden explosion rocked the car. I held myself up against the wall to balance myself, afraid I'd fall over and be unable to get up. Everyone exchanged anxious looks with each other, their eyes widening while they quickly grabbed their weapons just in case someone came for us or the biters tried to surround the door. I gripped the switchblade that Tara gave me tightly, white-knuckling the handle a bit. Various screams erupted in the distance as some of the biter growls were stifled briefly. I could only assume they'd found some victims.
"What the hell is going on out there," the red-haired guy growled, banging his fist on the door with defeat in being trapped in the unknown. Danger could just be right around the corner and we were left in anxious waiting.
"Maybe our people got free," Sasha thought aloud hopefully, cradling her weapon. A guy with a tangled, greasy mullet ran up to the sliding door and dropped on his knees. He tried to shove something into the small crack beneath it.
"I might be able to use this shell to compromise the door," he mumbled in a frantic tone. "From the sound of things, there may not be anyone left to open it but us."
"Eugene, shut up," a girl wearing a khaki military hat and loose pigtails hissed at him. She shifted back and forth in her spot, her aura radiating tenseness yet a slight vulnerability.
"Hey," Carl yelled out confidently, catching everyone's attetion. "My dad will come back. They all will. They've got outta this type of stuff before."
"Carl's right," Maggie agreed with him, stepping in front of him to put herself in the forefront. "And we need to get ready to fight our way out with them when they do. The more people to stand behind them armed, the better." She made her way over to the corner where the piece of wood Rick was sawing at was located. She pulled something out of her pocket and started to saw away. Everyone took that as their cue to go back to preparing themselves and their weapons for battle, nervous glances being thrown in the direction at the door from time to time.
Michonne made her way over to the peephole. She gazed out of it to gauge the situation that seemed to quiet in a way as time passed. She leaned in closely to get a better look at the damage, a pair of biter fingers suddenly thrusting their way through the hole. Michonne was left unscathed. She backed away calmly, glaring at the rotten fingers. The dead've found us.
