endnote.

Chapter Four - bait

Chapter Four

"I wish that I had known in that first minute we met..

.. that unpayable debt that I owed you.."

~

It was like the air had just fallen out from under her; there was nothing to cushion her fall but the tins and bottles in the bag that was still strapped to her body. The weight of it had pulled her down sharply and when she collided with the ground every inch of oxygen she had in her lungs was forcefully exhaled; the suddenness of the drop had left her ears ringing. With two of her senses inactive, Beth tried to open her eyes, the sluggishness of their response to her request was even more of a burden; blurry round the edges of her vision she was certain she'd smacked the back of her head hard on the concrete, it felt tender to the touch. Throbbing, boiling red liquid leaked out from a gash at the base of her hairline masked only by her long blonde hair that was now matted with blood. She felt nauseous and struggled to inhale anything but dust particles as they billowed around her in a cloud of haze; coughing, spluttering, the ache in her chest refused to go away making her feel like she'd had a stack of books dropped on her. She'd been asthmatic as a child; it had only lasted a few years and Beth's last attack had been well over twelve years ago, but in that moment right there, she felt the same breathing restrictions as those days she'd played in the hay-barn with Maggie and the world had spun till she'd passed out.

The world spun now.

Trying her eyes again, forcing them to respond to her request, Beth pushed for a little more focus and when darting around to "see" something in the encroaching dark - her eyes finally settled on the tiny crack of light above her. A face appeared, concealing some of the light and worried eyes surveyed her, their conclusion not looking anywhere near as good as she had hoped. Hurried hands depicted actions - "stay" and "still" - the figure spoke a flurry of fast words she couldn't hear; his lips moved but no sound returned to her ears. She worried she'd gone deaf and began to feel the panic rise from deep inside her. Furrowing her brow she squinted and tried again to see what he was saying.

Nothing.

Till now Beth hadn't moved; till now she'd forgotten that she lay draped rather unceremoniously over the bag and awkwardly splayed like a broken doll. The figure had said stay, he'd gestured to her to keep still. She'd just fallen two storeys onto her back and she hadn't moved – a conscious terror met the bile at the back of her throat as her brain commanded her arm, leg, hand, anything to move; wild thoughts crept into her mind and in a wild hysteria Beth's thought path crossed into unknown territory;

"What if she was paralysed?"

"What if she was finally done for and this is where her journey ended, at the bottom of a cellar in a remote town in the middle of nowhere?!"

"What if this was the end and if it was, what then?"

When her hand came up so fast it smacked her in the face Beth cried with relief, tears slipped from her dust creased eyes and slid down her dirty cheeks, creating lines of clean skin, laughing to herself she looked up and watched as man abseiled down a rope into cavern towards her with haste. He was talking at her again; words she couldn't make out, words her ears refused to hear. He clung on with one hand, a weapon extended in the other, pointed at something down below.

Pointed at her.

Her head wound had affected her memory more than she'd given it credit for – it had taken a while for her to find a name for the weapon in his hand and the face had features she recognised as the person she'd escaped the prison with. It was one thing being on the firing end of it, but being on the receiving end of the crossbow was terrifying. Her breath caught in her throat all laughter sucked from her. His face like steel he was only metres from her now and her relief from before was short lived. Beth felt something nudge her foot not once but twice and finally lifting herself into sitting position her eyes now adjusted to the low light around her; unwilling to drag her eyes away from the bolt drawing ever closer she tore her eyes away at the third nudge, eyes coming face to face with their worst nightmare.

It's bony decaying fingers clutched at her pant leg leaving dead residue behind and pulling Beth back into a fearful reverie from long ago. She knew how this went; how it had happened before and just how much that first bite burned every blood vessel she had in her tiny body. The survival instinct that had been entrenched in her since watching her father's execution caught Beth like a fire to paper and with a new found strength Beth heaved her butt backwards and underneath her as her leg disappeared from the walkers grasp just as Daryl's bolt embedded itself into it's skull.

Catching Daryl's eye she wordlessly nodded her thanks as he helped her out of the bag strap maze. Hauling her to her feet, he was steadfast as she steadied herself - handing her the red cloth he always had on his person, he placed a hunting knife into her right palm and ushered her behind him. She dabbed at the cut at the base of her skull and looking around finally saw what it was that Daryl had been aiming at.

They weren't standing in a cellar, the walls weren't solid concrete and the wooden food shelves weren't food shelves at all at this level. Swallowing hard Beth gripped the knife so tightly her fingers went white; standing back to back eyes darting all around them, she and Daryl were surrounded by a chain-link fence a mere 6ft high, from what they could see the walls behind were covered in dried blood and the "shelves" were broken auditorium seating. She let the hand holding the red cloth fall to her side as with wide eyed innocence Beth took in the scene before them... Her joy at being able to hear again was short-lived when all the sounds came together as one and she realised with horror their precarious situation. They were the "bait" in the middle of a fighting pit surrounded by a herd of starving walkers.

It took a moment for Daryl to mutter what they were both thinking...

"Shit."

~

"are you holding your breath again..?"

(Lyric Credits: "Breathe" by RHODES & "Kettering" by The Antlers)