The Fallen (Daryl Dixon fanfiction)

Chapter 27

The morning came with the smell of gasoline, smoke, and rotting, burning flesh hanging in the air. The streets were lined with walkers. So many, in fact, that you couldn’t see the pavement through the blood, flesh, and brain matter. The gigantic herd was dealt with, the so-called wolves are now extinct, and a motorcycle gang of wannabes was blown to bits. Once the last walker had fallen, nothing was going to stand in his way of finding the mother of his child.

“Daryl!” 

“Daryl wait-” 

The archers marched through a sea of dead, their calls falling on deaf ears. The sound of a gunshot from the walkie and the thud and cries of his Reese. Something was wrong.

Rounding the end of the street, he glanced over his shoulder to see Abe and Sasha glued to his side.

“She was at Deanne’s,” he says, and both nod. Inspecting the bodies of Alexandrians disemboweled along with the freaks, with W’s dead alongside them with gunshot wounds.

“One in the knee and one in the head. Reese’s takedown combo.” Sasha smiles. 

Finding the smashed sliding door.

“Peanut butter cup is smart,” Abraham assures. “Proly’ sittin’ back, snacking on chips per our arrival,” he assures.

Daryl wanted to believe that. He desperately wanted to, but his mind wandered to the image of Reese’s bloody body in the middle of the room. Stepping into the house The crunch of glass as they filed down the hall. Daryl looks to the floor; a trail of blood leads the way. Scattered droplets with various smears of shoes tracking through them.

“Someone followed her.” Daryl swallows, eyeing the boots that were five sizes too big to be hers. The trail ended at a basement door ripped from its hinges. Pushing the plank of lumber aside, they entered the basement with a walker, clawing at a broom closet. Wasting no time, the archer nails the being in the head, sending its body thudding to the floor. Kicking the walker over with his foot, he left a W scar on its forehead. He almost breathes in relief. Seeing bullet holes in his chest that matched the ones in the door. 

Reese was a force to be reckoned with.

~.~

“She’s in ‘nere.” he says, motioning to the closet. His breath hitches in his throat. Taking a few deep breaths, he grounded himself. Hand, ghosting over his hunting knife while praying he wouldn’t have to use it. Looking to Abraham and Sasha, who readied themselves with their guns. Receiving a curt nod. Grabbing hold of the doorknob, he yanked it open to see the woman inside. Body sitting in the corner. Eyes closed, slumped against the wall. “Reese?” As he approaches her slowly, his lip trembles. He traced her jaw with his thumb, waiting for any reaction.

“Easy now,” Abe warns as Daryl moves closer, placing two fingers on her neck.

“She has a pulse.” He yells, jolting the two into action.

“She lost a lot of blood,” Sasha informs as she inspects her arm, removing the soaked shoelace, snatching Daryl’s rag from his back pocket, and tying it around her arm. Reese whimpers, shifting as Daryl coaxes her to open her eyes.

“I’m here. We’re here.” He assures. A weak smile pulled at her lips.

“Cutting the pleasantries short, we need to get bun and oven to the infirmary pronto,” Abe instructs. Looping his arm under her knees and behind her back, he lifted her into his arms. Taking a few steps only to hear her yell in pain. Having no other choice but to place her on the couch.