In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 14

"You need to know this situation's getting old."

Erica

I should have seen it coming from a mile away, honestly. When I'm involved, nothing ever seems to go right. I mean, I go on a hunt without my brothers, against their better judgement, and the fucking apocalypse starts. I even had an angel with me, and it still happened! I'm not sure how, or why, but it did. Even worse, the walker's still have souls in them. They can still see what's going on; they just can't control their bodies. They feel the pain, and the ache that comes with slowly rotting away. With walking around with limbs missing, or having your intestines hang out in the open.

Our plan had been solid. Glenn was good at coming up with strategies like the one we used, and it went smoothly. We even got the bag of guns, which was no easy feat, I will say. I must have hacked the heads off at least seven of the undead while flanking Glenn to make sure he didn't get his sorry ass bit. It was all going absolutely, without a doubt, flawless.

Up until the point Glenn got dragged into a damn car.

I just sort of froze when they squealed up. Not my brightest moment, I will admit, but at least Daryl shot one of them in the ass before they made haste. That didn't much change the fact that a group of Latino men had driven by, kidnapped our resident Korean, and then sped off without so much as a goodbye. They didn't even try to go for me, and I was the one with the bag of guns. 

I was so dumbfounded that Daryl had to drag me out of the street. Everything after that was sort of a blur. Dixon caught a member of their group- a teenager with an attitude. It took Daryl and I all of ten seconds to crack him. The Winchester and Dixon interrogation extravaganza consisted mostly of Daryl asking about his brother, threatening to crack skulls, and me nonchalantly saying I'd slice his dick off with a butter knife with the straightest face I could pull. It did the trick.

"Listen." Erica the negotiator is now back in action. We're outside some sort of industrial building, maybe, with a big metal door. The supposed leader of the group that took Glenn is skinny as a toothpick. "We give you your man, who still has his feet by the way, and you give us Glenn. It's not hard."

Daryl had threatened to cut the kid's feet off, too. I guess I forgot to mention that. Maybe because I wasn't totally against it. Not that I'm as barbaric as he is. He's a redneck, while I am a civilized, trained hunter. I was only going to take one foot. A real improvement from the both of them.

"Sorry. We're fresh outta white boys." Toothpick said.

"Dude, the guy Daryl shot in the ass is literally right there. He's one of the guys who grabbed Glenn." I waved a hand at the said man, who immediately glared at me. I flashed him my good friend, the bird. "Sarcasm only works if there isn't something contradicting it, dingus."

"Let me finish." Toothpick scoffed. "But we got Chinese-"

I cut him off before he couldn't continue. "We don't want Chinese, dammit!" I raised my shotgun threateningly. Toothpick looked a bit confused, along with his gun-wielding men. "We want Korean."

"Erica, shut yer damn mouth." Daryl grumbled, his crossbow aimed and ready to fire. I took personal offense to his words. We'll have to have a talk when we get back to camp. If Daryl knew anything about me, and he clearly doesn't, he should know that I lack the innate ability to shut my pie-hole and live it up in this shocking thing called silence. I am the definition of a motormouth.

"I have one of yours, you have one of mine. Sounds like an even trade." Rick said smoothly. I should be taking notes, honestly. Not only has Rick not been shot yet, but doesn't have half the people staring at him in that pissed off sort of way that tells you they want to rip you a new one. Seriously, I'm about to catch fire from the intensity of these gazes. Somebody call the fire department, because I'm about to spontaneously combust out this bitch.

"Don't sound even to me." Toothpick speaks again. Poor teenage boy I didn't bother to learn the name of! He looks horrified!

I can't imagine Sam or Dean ever giving me up just to keep a hostage. I can think of many times I've insisted they leave me behind just so they could take someone else with them, whether that be a victim or enemy, but they never did, no matter what happened. It made me feel... pity for poor teenage boy I didn't bother to learn the name of.

"G... come on man..." Poor teenage boy I didn't bother to learn the name of said. I shook my head a little. This is almost as sad as Mufasa's death in The Lion King. Almost.

"My people got attacked. Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where's my bag of guns?" Toothpick took a little step forward, to which I nearly blew his head off. I didn't though, because I'm a nice, considerate person at heart, and not nearly as bitchy as I outwardly appear. Unless it pertains to food, in which case my inner demon comes out, and puts even a typical 'Crowley Rage Fest' to shame.

"Guns?" Rick quirked an eyebrow. I kept my face straight. I see where he's going with this.

"The bag Miguel saw in the street." Toothpick said. Who the fuck is Miguel? "The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns." Toothpick said calmly. I looked between the man Daryl shot in the ass, and his accomplice, who was also standing idly by. Ten bucks says the one who got nailed in the behind is Jorge.

"You're mistaken." I piped up convincingly. Considering how many times I've pretended to be an FBI agent, this comes easier than swearing does, which is saying something. My potty mouth is dirtier than a 7/11 bathroom after the janitor's been out sick a full week.

"I don't think so." Toothpick really wasn't backing down. His eyes met mine, blazing with the same determination I'm sure mine held. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"About it being yours." Rick countered. I glanced at him. Okay, cool. Tactic change. Let's roll out, folks. Rick continued, "It's my bag of guns."

"The bag was in the street. Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I'm supposed to take your word?" Toothpick glanced at me, and then back to Rick. "What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now, and I take what's mine?" 

Several guns cocked, and Daryl and I squared up. "You could do that." I said. I then looked to T. "Or not."

Their gazes followed mine. T is a pretty good shot with a sniper rifle. I've always been far better at close combat. Slicing and dicing is my game, and sharp shooter is not my name. "Oye!" Toothpick called up. I heard scuffling above, and my gaze flickered up, though my gun never left the sights of arrow in the ass, who seems to want to shoot me rather than Daryl for some reason. Did I pull a Merida and shoot him in the ass? Yeah, I didn't think so. 

Two men pulled Glenn forward, ripping a sack off his head. I went rigid. "I know you did not just do that." I noted, my finger itching to pull the trigger. I saw T shift from the corner of my eye. Ride or Die's unite. If Jacqui were here, she'd rip this place apart with her own two hands, and be unscathed in the end. She's that chick. Seems nice, mellow. Polite. But it's always the quiet ones. Everybody knows that.

"I see two options." Toothpick said, folding his arms over his chest. Whatever he was going for, I'm pretty sure it had the opposite effect. His overall intimidating vibe immediately dropped into the negatives. "You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded; we'll see which side spills more blood."

"For fucks sake!" I groaned. "Take poor teenage boy I didn't bother to learn the name of and give us Glenn!"

"Erica." Daryl's tone was warning as we began to back up, our new enemies doing the same.  

[Song: Walk Away by Kelly Clarkson]