Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

No Easy Way Out

Even the most patient person had their limit, and I was far from a patient person. The sun set roughly an hour ago. So far the walkers showed no signs of dispersing which wasn't surprising given their numbers. The dead bodies and blood on the streets wasn't exactly helping. They were clustered together in groups, shoving and pushing to get at the all-you-could-eat buffet. It could take days, if not weeks, for them to wander off on their own. We didn't have days, and we certainly didn't have weeks. We were on a roof with no shelter, no food, and no water.

"We need a plan," Noah insisted for the billionth time. "There must be some kind of way out of here."

"Said the joker to the thief," I hummed, ignoring his irritation. He'd walked right into that.

I said nothing further on the subject. I had a plan. I just hadn't shared it because I knew they'd freak out. Now that it was dark there was little reason to wait. Well, if I was being honest there were a shit-ton of reasons to wait, but none of them mattered. It didn't matter I had torn muscles in my shoulder. It didn't matter I was running on fumes. It didn't matter I was poorly equipped in the weapon department. It didn't matter that walkers outnumbered us 100 to 1.

All that mattered was if we stayed here we died. Period.

A single gunshot drew the attention of the herd. They stood slowly, dropping body parts while still chewing on human flesh. The dead moved unison, drifting to the sound like a moth to a flame. I stood, ignoring the aches and pains of my body, frantically looking for the source of the shot. No one would fire a shot in a herd of walkers unless it was absolutely necessary which meant someone was in trouble.

I felt bile bubble in my throat when I saw Deadpool wildly cutting a path through the herd, Rick trailing behind with a limp body in his arms. Even at night and from this distance I could see the blood coating the person's face, Carl's face, and my knees got weak.

"Oh my god," Francine said, sucking in a harsh breath.

"Is that Carl?"

I didn't answer Beth, turning and tearing open the backpack Noah still wore. I pulled out the machete, baton, and MP3 player. I walked the perimeter of the roof, trying to find the best route. Unfortunately there wasn't a "best route" only progressively shitter routes.

"What are you doing?" Ignoring Noah I tossed the baton and machete to the ground in an area with the least amount of walkers. Then I went to the opposite side of the roof where the majority of walkers were loitering. "Are you crazy?! You just threw away our only weapons!"

"Noah," Beth said, trying to restrain him, but he shrugged off her hand.

When his fingers curled around my upper arm I whirled on him, grabbing a few fingers and bending them back, stopping just shy of snapping bone. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain, trying to find a way to relieve the pressure on his joints.

"Those are just tools," I explained, pointing at the weapons on the ground. "I'm the weapon."

"What are you going to do?"

I looked at Francine, holding up one finger. "Step one, get down."

She blanched. "And step two?"

"Fuck them up."

"Oh, well, OK then."

I turned the MP3 player on, cranking the volume as loud as it would go. I selected a song and quickly hit pause. Striding to the edge of the roof where I planned to jump down I hit play, throwing the MP3 in the opposite direction. The device hadn't even hit the ground when the first beats from the song started playing. I nodded in appreciation. That thing may be tiny, but it packed a punch.