Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 7: Rescue Mission

The church is a mess, an honest-to-God bloody mess. We missed a lot.

Bob is dead. The people from Terminus, or at least the ones who survived the fire and the walkers, hunted us down, snatched Bob away, and ate his leg. I had to sit down after hearing that, wondering if I was hearing things, but no; they were cannibals. Daryl tells me that when he was taken from the train car with the others, they were brought to a killing floor, a butchery with humans instead of animals. That was the fate that awaited us had Carol not interrupted everything.

It turns out, it wasn't losing the leg that killed Bob. He was bitten during the food bank run and hid it away until he couldn't anymore. He passed early this morning. Shortly after he was buried, Abraham set out in the short bus with Eugene, Rosita, Glenn, Maggie, and Tara. The plan is to meet them in Washington later.

As for the Termites, they're dead, and I don't ask for details on that front. The blood stains on the floor and splattered across the pews tell me enough. They're gone, never to eat another person again, and that's all that matters.

In turn, Daryl and I share what happened on our end and introduce Noah to the group. It's so late that all we can really do is welcome him in and go to sleep, with plans to reinforce the church and save Beth and Carol tomorrow. Noah insists that he has to go. Beth saved him, so he wants to save her.

I lay next to Daryl, staring up at the church ceiling and trying to drown out Sasha's muffled sobs enough to get some sleep.

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There's no time to waste. Most of us will return to Atlanta while Carl and Michonne stay back with Gabriel and Judith. Before we leave, we reinforce the church using whatever materials we have.

I'm admittedly distracted even as I help Tyreese and Daryl take apart the organ. Behind us, Sasha wails on the pews with a hatchet, striking them again and again, splintering them apart. She wears Bob's green army jacket, covered in cloth patches.

Tyreese slides another pipe from the organ, loading it into Daryl's arms. "It's good you weren't here for it," he says, glancing at his sister.

"She hanging in there?" Daryl asks.

Tyreese purses his lips. "No."

I don't blame her. Bob arrived at the prison barely three weeks ago and he's already gone. She was only just starting to know him, to love him.

I watch Daryl as he leaves the church. I fell for him so hard and so fast that, when I think of it now, it feels like lightspeed. I try to imagine if he had died as horrifically as Bob did—if walkers got him during his searches for Sophia, if Andrea's bullet hadn't just grazed him. If, after all was said and done, I was left with nothing but his angel wings vest to remember him by.

My heart breaks for Sasha all over again. I can only imagine the what-ifs going through her head, the things she wanted with him that she'll never have, mourning all that could have been. Bob was a good guy. No one deserves what he went through.

Tyreese puts another organ pipe in my arms and I startle from my thoughts, blinking hard at the sudden dewiness in my eyes. Tyreese's brow furrows a little in concern as he grasps my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asks.

I nod. "Y-Yeah, fine. Sorry."

I heft the pipes and start out the door, slowing for a second as I pass Sasha. For a second, I want to reach out to her, tell her how sorry I am, but the look on her face silences me. There's nothing but anger and hurt in her eyes, bunching her shoulders, her brow. It's in her voice with every strike of her axe against the pew.