In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 58: Last day on Earth

"Load 'em up!" Dwight hollered, his voice cutting through the air.

One of the men grabbed me by my arm, yanking me up and dragging me toward the van. But before they could toss me inside, Dwight stepped in front of me, his hands resting on the double doors, a sick grin plastered on his face.

"Don't worry, darlin'," he said with a smirk. "He'll be alright." He shot me a wink, and with a casual motion, opened the van doors.

"Daryl?" My heart stuttered in my chest. There he was, sitting upright with a blanket draped around his shoulders, but the blood soaked through it, dripping down his arm in heavy, crimson streaks.

I didn't wait for them to shove me in. I jumped into the back of the van, landing beside him with a soft thud.

"Hey, Jo." His voice was weak, more ragged than usual, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Come here often?"

"Seriously?" I muttered, gently pulling back the blanket to reveal the gunshot wound in his shoulder. It was ugly—deep, and still oozing blood.

I looked down at him, the sorrow heavy in my chest. "I thought he killed you," I whispered, barely able to speak through the lump in my throat.

"Nah." Daryl groaned, trying to sit up straighter, but the effort left him wincing. "I ain't made it this long just to go out like a bitch."

A tear slid down my cheek, and I gently brushed the hair from his forehead. The guilt, the grief, the fear—it all hit me in that one moment.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I shouldn't have left. If I didn't... this wouldn't have happened."

He squeezed my hand, his grip weak but steady. "Don't." His voice was hoarse but stern. "Ain't none of this your fault."

Tears kept falling as I lifted his hand to my lips, kissing it gently before pressing it to my cheek.

A moment later, the van doors slammed open, and Glenn and Michonne were tossed inside. Dwight stood just outside, his hands still on the double doors, leaning against them casually as he looked us over.

"Buckle up, you pricks," he sneered, eyes glinting with malice. "Time to meet the man."

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I could hear the commotion outside the van before a voice yelled for Dwight.

"Yeah?" he answered, his tone cold.

"Chop-chop."

I heard the crunch of gravel under his boots as he approached, then the door swung open, a blinding light flooding in.

"Come on. You've got people to meet." Dwight grabbed Daryl by the arm, yanking him out of the van with no hesitation.

A bald-headed man grabbed my arm next, yanking me out and throwing me roughly to the ground.

"On your knees!" Dwight barked.

I slowly lifted my head and saw everyone lined up, Rick, Carl, Abraham, Sasha, Aaron, Eugene, Rosita, Maggie all on their knees, but my eyes darted back to Maggie, her skin as white as a ghost. She looked sick, and a tight knot formed in my stomach. The baby... I immediately thought of the baby.

"I said—" Dwight yanked me by the roots of my hair, pulling me up with a sharp jerk. I reached back instinctively, my fingers digging into his arm in pain as he forced me to my knees. "On your knees!"

When he finally released me, I glanced over at Daryl. His gaze was deadly—if it wasn't for the situation at hand, oh boy would there be problems. 

"Alright!" A man with a big mustache stood in front of us as he back peddled towards the RV. "Let's meet the man!" He knocked on the door twice.