Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 5: Free-Falling

Carol carefully maneuvers her things back through the door to the skybridge, backpack first, then her gun, before finally slipping through. I linger behind Daryl as he kneels, crossbow first.

"Daryl, don't!"

I hear a gun click as Daryl sticks his head through, making me tense up. I watch the muscles in Daryl's shoulders hitch.

"Get up," a voice says. There's a slight tremor, bravado hiding fear. "Hands up, all of you."

Daryl slips through the door and lets it shut behind him, leaving me in the hall. I wait, holding my breath, and I hear the voice again.

"Her, too. I know there's three of you."

The chain rattles and the door cracks open, Daryl holding it in place, and I slide through as fast as I can. I look up at the barrel of Carol's rifle, only it's in the hands of a young black man. He can't be much older than eighteen, not a bit of stubble to be seen, his coiled black hair cropped close to his head.

I hold my hands up as I rise to my feet. Carol has her hands up already, but Daryl stays steadfast, gripping his weapon.

"Lay down your crossbow," the boy demands, aiming the gun at Daryl.

"You got some sack on you," Daryl growls.

"Look, nobody has to get hurt. I just need weapons, that's it," the boy says, his words fast, tumbling out of him. "So, please, lay down your crossbow."

He's desperate, not malicious. It doesn't make me any happier about the situation. After a second, Daryl puts his crossbow down.

The boy's fingers flex around the rifle. "Back up," he snaps.

We obey. Daryl still doesn't put his hands up. The boy snatches up the crossbow and puts it over his shoulder, backing away from us. Behind him, one of the trapped tent walkers keeps snarling, clawing at its cloth cage.

"Sorry about this. You look tough," he says. He pulls a knife from his belt. "You'll be alright."

He slices the first tent open, releasing its captive, and does the same to the second tent as he backs up past them. I notice as he turns away from us that he's limping heavily, although I see no sign of a fresh injury. There isn't any blood on his pant leg, not even an old stain.

The first walker stumbles from its tent. Daryl makes quick work of it with his knife while Carol guns down the second with her pistol. She aims for the boy just as he starts to round the corner but Daryl bumps her shoulder, sending the shot askew, and she glares at him.

I run past them, going after the boy, but the door is barred when I reach it. I tug on it, hearing chains jingling from the other side.

"Shit," Daryl curses. He looks around the skywalk. "Come on."

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We find another exit, not anywhere near where the boy must have gone, and find ourselves moving through an area of the building that looks like it was under reno. There are lots of exposed beams, the floors are unfinished, and the piping and vents in the ceiling are visible.

"Three bullets," Carol says as she checks her gun. "We're in the middle of a city. He was stealing our weapons."

Daryl leads us, searching for another way out. Carol brings up the rear. I'm delegated once again to the middle of the pack.

"Did you think I was gonna kill him?" she asks. "I was aiming for his leg. Could that have killed him? Maybe, I don't know."

"It'd make it hard to run," I say. She gives me a sharp look. "Sooner or later, you end up running."