Knife Edge [Daryl Dixon]

Chapter Eleven - Half the Battle (2/2)

     Daryl kept his eyes on Rick, Aaron and Jesus while he counted down from three to one with his fingers, then yanked the school door open. 

In case anyone was hiding inside, he let it go straight away and shrank back against the wall. It was as well, for as soon as the door was open, it was riddled with bullets. 

When it went quiet again, Rick held up two fingers, one for each of the shooters inside, and pointed to the corner of the school where the shots had come from. Aaron set off, creeping along the front of the school until he was in position and at the nod from Rick, he started to shoot through what was left of a nearby window, pinning the men down. 

Daryl pulled the door open again and he, Rick and Jesus went in, keeping low and spreading out. It was gloomy inside, even though most of the windows were gone there was enough light to see the two men taking shelter behind a pile of desks, firing back at Aaron.  

When Daryl opened fire, he was rewarded when one man fell straight away but though he panned his gun after the other, he managed to dodge into a dim corridor that led further into the school. 

Cursing, he and Jesus took a side of the room each and went forward, ready to dive for cover if need be but when he glanced over the desks, the man that fell was dead. A ragged bullet hole pierced his cheek. 

He whistled, ready to move on, but while Jesus joined him, Rick pointed his Magnum at a man who was slumped in the corner behind the front door. There were streaks and spatters of blood across the floor from the door to where he lay. He was the guy Rosita shot.

'Rick,' he called as loud as he dared, but Rick didn't move. He rushed to his side, 'Rick, c'mon,' but then he saw what was staying Rick's hand. The man at his feet was maybe sixteen. Maybe.

He was pale and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Rosita had caught him across the back and his hands trembled over his stomach where the bullets punched through. Speaking to no-one in particular, he whispered through lips stained with blood, 'I want my Mom.'

Daryl got it, he did. But Rick had to know this boy wasn't Carl and as part of this group, he had done things Carl would never have done. He called Rick's name again, sharper this time.

Rick finally answered him, 'He's just a boy.'

Daryl shook his head. Rick wasn't all that bothered when he told him to beat the shit out of Randall back when they were living at Maggie's farm near Atlanta. He was about the same age as this boy here. And he deserved what he got too. 

Stepping past Rick, he told him, 'He's all the man he's gonna be,' and shot the boy in the head.

*

Helen sat on the bed and clasped her hands as she thanked god for answering her prayers. She was going to die.

She didn't know how long she had been in this classroom and she didn't want to know.   

Her group had run into these men on the road between Emporia and Franklin. They traded supplies for some much needed antibiotics and set up camp together for the night. 

When she woke up, hearing the shouts and screams, she assumed they were being overrun by the dead, but it was the living that had come for them. Now everyone she knew was dead, except for Emily and Cath. They were in the rooms down the hall.  

When the bolt on her door was drawn back, she hesitated then stood trying to be brave but it was Mikey that rushed in, 'Get over here. You're my ticket outta here.'

Horrified, she jumped back onto the bed, pushing herself across the mattress and into the corner to get as far away from him as she could. It would be better to die here and now than go anywhere with any of these men.