Fighting to Survive: The 3rd installment to Daring to Feel

Chapter 29: Getting Together

"How long you gonna give this?" I ask Sasha as she stares out the window.

"As long as you want." She says nicely back to me.

I chuckle, "I don't know how long to wait." I tell her honestly, "what if he's not okay? What if he was hit, and died somewhere else? What if he was taken?" I ask her, rambling all my worries off to her, "what if he didn't come back for us? What--"

"Stop." She interrupts me, "you're talking about Daryl. He's fine. He's probably out in the woods making sure those asshole who shot at us are long dead. He wouldn't leave a risk like that out there."

"I don't know." I say, wanting to believe her.

She comes over to me, putting her hand on my shoulder, "we'll hang out for a bit. And if he doesn't come today, we'll head back. Leave him clues to let him know we're fine and going home."

"Maybe." Is all I can think to say back, not knowing if I could leave here that soon without him. She gives me a small grin before going back to the window.

Abraham comes clunking back into the office room a few hours after he stormed out. He drops a big duffle bag of who knows what and a large black container. "Where'd that come from?" I ask, eyeing him up and down. His clothes are ripped and he has more blood on him then when he did when he left.

"It is the fruit of some off-the-chart stupidity." He answers back cleverly, as he usually does, "some grade-A, butt steak idiocy."

"Self-awareness is a beautiful thing." Sasha rolls her eyes.

"Yes, it is." He responds, "you see, I know this group and I know Rick. And whatever happened back there is being managed and kicked right up into its own ass one way or another."

"We know that." Sasha answers.

He keeps going, "we got beer and air conditioning and walls. The table is set for the rest of our lives, and I hope those years to be long and fruitful. I see that time before me and I've been feeling the urge to make some plays before the great cosmic Pete comes to cut my throat unceremoniously and I gurgle my last breath. Well, things are gonna go on for a while before that, and that hadn't occurred to me before." I listen to what he's saying, wondering where all this is coming from as earlier in the day he was pissed to hell, "I've been kind of living check to check on that point. I like the way you call bullshit, Sasha. I believe I'd like to get to know you a whole lot better."

I hold in my chuckle, now catching on to what it is he is doing. I turn my back away, pretending to fiddle with my clothes, "that one of your plays" She asks, "what makes you think I want that?" I sneak out of the room and wander down the hall.

"Why-- Why are Abraham's clothes on the ground in the other room?" I ask, nervous to the know the answer. I slowly walk towards the office room, not sure I want to know the answer, "guys?" I call out, not hearing anything, "I'm coming in!" I shout in, bracing myself for an ugly scene. When I get in the room both Sasha and Abraham look to me with hopeful eyes, "what?" I ask, worried. Sasha smiles and I run to the window, my hope filling me. I see Daryl standing outside a large truck with his hands over his head, trying to cover the glare from the sun and look for us. I turn around running, darting to get to him. I reach the door quickly and as I push it open and it clunks against something, pushing it back to me. I force the door one more time, ignoring the body and rush past it to reach Daryl, "I hate these moments!" I whisper out to him as my arms wrap around his neck.

"Nice to see you too, darlin'" he returns to me.

Abraham and Sasha are soon outside with us, she hugs him quickly and Abraham gives him a nod, "where'd you find this old heap of shit?" He asks him, referring to the big truck he drove in.

Daryl shrugs, "hind some bushes."

"Are you okay? Where's your bike?" I ask him, noticing the scrapes and cuts he has. I also notice his bow missing.

He pushes my hands away, "I'm good. Let's go home." The four of us pile into the front of the large truck and Daryl puts it into drive. We let the sound of the road be the only thing we listen to for a bit of time. Daryl reaches for the walkie on the dashboard and says into it, "Rick, you copy?" He calls into it. The old two way radio hisses back at us. Daryl tries again, "anybody?" He asks into the dead air we're hearing. The hissing continues but there's a garbled voice at one point, causing Sasha and I to look at one another wondering if it was a person or just noise. Daryl radios over, "say it again?"

Another moment of static hissing before the voice is clearer this time, "help."

That's all we get from the person on the other end, a plea for help. We couldn't tell who it was, if it was one of ours or not. We tried to radio back, ask questions, but there was nothing anymore, "what if it's Rick, or Glenn, or Tobin?" I ask once Daryl throws the walkie back on the dashboard frustrated.

"Nothing we can do now, better go home and see who it is then go out looking for them." Sasha tells me.

"If it is one of our own. Could be another group." Abraham reminds us.

I hum out, "fine, let's get back quick though." I say, wanting to help whomever it was pleading with us.