Fight to Survive (Daryl Dixon)

2. Daryl and Merle

Chapter Two             

“I said I’d shoot ya’ if ya’ didn’t drop it!” The man had caught up with me, and he bent down and picked up the squirrel that had fallen out of my hand.

“Now I am goin’ to be needin’ that back,” He pointed to the arrow in my thigh. I looked up at him in horror. This idiot just shot me in the leg, and he was worried about getting his darn arrow back.

“Fuck you!” I spat at him. I slowly reached into my pocket, and pulled out my knife. I did not take my eyes off of him, as I held it behind my back ready to strike.

He leant down over me glaring, “Hold still ya’ bitch,” His hand started to go for the arrow.

I sung my arm up at him, with the knife in it. He reacted quickly and back up, avoiding the knife, and dropping the squirrel. He growled and came charging down at me. He grabbed a hold of my wrist with the knife in it. I immediately hit him in the side of my face with my free fist as hard as I could.

He glared at me angrily, and took the knife from my hand by force. He held it up to my throat, “Don’t move!” He grabbed a hold of the arrow in my leg by the tip, and pulled it out straight through my leg with all his force, tearing the flesh around it. I pretty sure every infected person from miles around would have heard my ear splitting scream when he did this. He removed the knife from my neck, and held his hand over my mouth, “Shut the fuck up!” He growled in my ear.

I was gasping heavily with the pain coming from my leg. I put my shaky hand to the wound, and I could feel the blood pouring out of it.

The man let go of my mouth and stood up, backing away from me. With the bloody arrow in one hand and the squirrel in the other, he turned to leave.

“Wait!” I yelled after him. I was bleeding badly, and I knew if he just left me here I was going to die. “Please?” I begged him, and he stopped walking and turned to face me. He looked down at my bleeding leg, and frowned.

He walked back over to me, and helped me to my feet. I was not expecting him to do that. He held me up so I would not fall back down. “I should just leave ya’ here to die, after stealin’ from me.”

He grabbed a hold of the bottom of my shirt and began to tear it. My eyes went wide “What the hell are you doing?”

“Do ya wanna’ bleed to death?” I did not answer him, but held still as he ripped the bottom of my shirt all the way around and off. He tied the rag around my wound, slowing down the bleed. My shirt was a lot shorter now, you could almost see my belly button.

*

He began to walk, and I limped beside him holding his arm for support. I felt nervous going with the man who shot me, but I had no choice. Even if he does end up killing me, I was just going to die back there anyway.

We walked in silence for half an hour. I did not dare say anything to him, in case he changed his mind and left me behind. We finally came to a stop, in front of us was a piece of rope tied between the trees at waist height. Attached to the rope were old tin cans. The man ducked under the rope and motioned for me to follow. I slowly bent down under the rope, my leg throbbed under the pressure. I came up the other side, and could see a tent amongst the tress, a few metres a head.

“What is the rope for?” I asked.

“Warns us when walkers are comin’ cans rattle when the hit the rope,” He explained.

“Walkers?”

“Yeah! What do ya call ‘em?”

“Infected, zombies…I don’t know what to call them really.”

I saw him smirk a bit when I called them zombies. He walked over to the tent and went inside. I cautiously walked over, and sat down near the burnt out camp fire. The rag that was wrapped around my leg was soaked through with blood.

The man walked back out of the tent a minute later. He placed his crossbow on the ground next to the tent, and chucked the squirrel on the ground next to it. In his hands he held a small red bag. He sat down in front of me, and grabbed my hurt leg with his rough hands. He untied the rag, and chucked it to the side. He examine the wound for a second then looked up in my eyes. I swear I saw concern in his eyes, making me feel very nervous.

“Am I going to die?” I asked.

“Nah. I’ll stitch ya’ up, ya’ll be fine. Might need to find some pills for ya’ though.”

I assumed he meant antibiotics by pills. He reached in the bag and pulled out some black thread, and what looked like a sewing needle.

“I’m Alex,” I said startling him, as he was trying to thread the string into the needle.

“Daryl,” He mumbled back.

I cringed and groaned and he poked the needle through my skin. I clenched my jaw shut tightly to try and stop myself from screaming out, but every now and then a whimper would escape my mouth.

Finally he did the last stitch and I let out a sigh of relief. Daryl smirked up at me, “We ain’t done yet, lay on ya’ stomach.”

I gulped nervously, forgetting about the entrance wound on the back of my leg. I laid down on the dirty ground on my stomach, and Daryl began to stitch the back up as well.

“Done,” He said, as he cut the remainder threat off with his teeth. I sat up and looked down at my now stitched up leg. The stitches did not look very professional at all, but I knew they would do fine.

“We are goin’ to need to wrap that back up,” He told me, and I nodded looking down at the blood soaked rag next to me. I knew I could not use that again, and there was no way I was going to have my shirt ripped up any higher.

“Do you have anything I can use?” I asked him.

“Use your shirt,” He said standing up.

“I won’t have any shirt left,” I growled at him.

“That ain’t my problem girl!”

“Yeah it is! You’re the one who bloody shot me!” I yelled at him, standing up right in front of him. He was a head taller than me, and he glared down at me.

“What’s going on ‘ere?” Another male’s voice sounded from behind me.

I turned around to see a man standing behind me, he looked at least 10 years older than Daryl. “Who’s the babe?” He asked smirking at me.

“No one!” Daryl replied, “She’s just leavin’!”

Daryl grabbed my arm roughly and began to lead me back towards the rope boundary. I pulled my arm out of his grip and took a step back from him.

“Now now, baby brother. She can stay awhile,” The older man said, as he licked his lips and took a step closer to me. “The names Merle.”

“Alex,” I whispered quietly, shifting uncomfortably. I did not like the look this man was giving me, it sent shivers down my spine.

Daryl walked past me. I heard him whisper “Whatever,” As he passed. He walked over to the tent and went inside.

“You hungry?” Merle asked me, and I nodded. “Got some rabbit. Looks like Daryl got some squirrel as well,” He said picking up the squirrel I had tried to steal earlier, from the ground.

I sat back down, and watched as Meryl lit the fire, before pulling out a knife and skinning the dead animals. I looked down at my feet as he did this, not wanting to watch.

“Here,” A voice said from beside me. Daryl was standing next to me, with a grey rag in his hands. I slowly reached up and grabbed it from him. I wrapped around my wound to stop dirt from getting into it.

“Thanks,” I mumbled and he nodded before going over to help Merle with the food.

***

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