Stumbling upon Alexandria, Reese recounts the events up until now. Meeting Rick's group at the prison, scavenging, sickness, and attacks while creating an attachment to the stoic Bowman.
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"What do I do? What do I do?" she pants as blood begins to trickle out of his boot.
"Hav-ta...get-tha-" a pained grunt rips through his throat trying to pry the jaws apart only for it to clamp back into place. Quickly picking up her rifle and mowing down the remaining assailants. Peering around the corner her rifle being slapped from her hands. She draws back, avoiding a swing, but earns a boot to the stomach, sending her to the floor. Choking on the breath that was forced out of her lungs. Immense weight pinning her down. His forearm crushed her windpipe as the other dug into her side wound. She cries at the white-hot pain.
"It was going to be quick." he draws back her attention shaking her body as he clenched his fingers around her throat. A grimace slipping her lips trying to pry his fingers off. "I'm gonna take my time." A sinister grin pulls at his lips. Gagging on the air, reaching out for something.
Anything.
Running her fingers across the floor, she felt them hit the stick of wood. In one swift motion, grabbing it and driving it to the side of his head. Shoving the man off, she rolled onto her hands and knees, now able to breathe again. Looking to the screaming man holding the arrow lodged into the side of his head. Scooping up the crossbow that was way heavier than it looked. Marching over to the cowering man who raised his hand in mercy. Letting out a roar of anger, she drove the end of the crossbow into his skull, crushing it. Adrenaline was depleting as she felt the weight of her arms. They burn with each in taking of breath. Through her ringing ears, the cries of the archer pulled her into a sprint down the hall. She wedged her fingers between the sharp metal teeth, prying them apart with all of their combined strength. Holding the jaws open as Daryl lifted his foot out of the trap. Snatching her fingers away, she watched as the jaws clamped shut.
"Lean on me," she instructs, holding her arm that was slung across her shoulders. She takes baby steps down the hall as he braces himself against the wall of lockers for support. "We're almost there," she encourages.
"It ain't happenin'," he grunts in pain. From the sheen of sweat collecting on his forehead and the tint of red raising up his neck, he was in excruciating pain.
Detouring from the entrance, following the trail of bodies to their lair. The floor was covered with sleeping bags, with a couch against the far wall. Kicking the bottles and wrappers out of their way. Dropping him on the couch.
"God Fuckin'-" he trembles. "-damn it." he grits through his clenched teeth. Breathing heavily. Lifting his injured foot onto the couch.
Running around the cluttered room. Pulling out the shirts and bottles of vodka from Daryl's bag. Actually, she was thankful he was living up to the redneck stereotype. Tearing up some shirts and scampering back to the archer. She laid everything out on the floor before them.
"What's that for?" He nods toward the bottle.
"Poor man's painkiller." She sums it up. "Couldn't find any aspirin."
