Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 15: The Distance

It doesn't take long before we're going down the blessedly clear Route 16, headed straight for the water tower that watches us over the trees. The RV trundles into a small neighbourhood with lots of warehouse-like buildings, factories, and the like, each one made of brick with an abundance of glass windows.

Abraham slows the RV down, and as the engine calms and the roar of the highway disappears, a panicked scream replaces it. Daryl reacts instantly, throwing the door open and rushing outside to find the source of the scream, and I'm right behind him, knife in hand. I hear Rosita start to shout after us, but we're long gone. I hear the door slam shut, then creak open again as others start to follow.

I can't imagine Rick screaming like that, and especially not if he has Michonne and Glenn with him. They should be able to handle themselves. That means it's someone else, someone in trouble.

"Here!" Daryl says.

We emerge into an alleyway and, a short distance away, a small crowd of walkers—four that I can count—surround a vehicle, clawing at the screaming underbelly.

Daryl fires off a bolt, skewering one of the walkers. As he reloads, I sprint forward and grab another by its collar, hauling it back and stabbing it through the head. My knife jams, caught inside its skull, and I curse aloud as I haul the body backwards. The remaining two walkers surge towards me and my stupid knife still won't budge.

A bolt takes out the one closest to grabbing me, but the other is still coming. In a split-second decision, I plant my foot on the downed walker's head and wrench the bolt out. I lift it just as the other walker grabs my arms, jaws gaping as it tries to get me, and I wrap my free hand around its throat as I plunge the arrow into its eye. For a second, it keeps clacking its jaws, and I grit my teeth as I force the arrow deeper, using its weight pushing against me to help.

It finally slumps, and I drop the body, taking the bolt back as I let gravity yank it free. I take quick, gulping breaths, running footsteps approaching from behind me. Maggie, Sasha, Tara, and Carol rush past me to the car as the pale, sweaty face of a young man pokes out from underneath, relief clear in his eyes behind the fading panic.

"Thank you. O-Oh, thank you," he says, again and again.

I feel someone grip my shoulder, then turn me around. Daryl looks me over, brow furrowed. "You okay?"

I nod. "Yeah. My knife got stuck." I sigh. "I should've sharpened it long before now."

He looks back at the walker with my white handle still sticking out from its forehead. He takes a step to it, reaching down, and he gives the knife a sharp twist. I hear a crack as it finally slips free, part of the walker's skull caves in.

Daryl wipes the blade on his pants before holding it out to me. "Think that one was fresher than most."

"I prefer the mushy ones," I reply, taking the knife back. It's sweet that he's trying to make me feel better about my lack of weapon maintenance, and I smile at him. "Thank you."

"Mhm."

The RV appears around the corner, trundling down the alleyway, and I look back to the women helping the man from under the car. He's still panting and trembling as Maggie kneels next to him, prodding his ankle lightly. His auburn hair sticks to his pale forehead.

"Tried to hide under the car and the roamers started pushing it. Rolled it right over me," the man is explaining to her. "Just my lu—ah!"

"Sorry," Maggie says.

Daryl approaches the man as Sasha, Carol, and Tara head off to scout the rest of the alley, wary of more unwelcome visitors. I grab the arrow still sticking out of one of the walkers.