Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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 Daryl's breathing came out hard and ragged as he paced, his eyes glued to the hand that belonged to his brother. I stepped forward and looked up at him, debating whether to take him away, talk to him, or just let him be. It's not like there's a guide to approaching men whose brother amputated their own hand and fucked off. Suddenly, he raised his crossbow and pointed it at T-Dog, tears threatening to spill from his glistening eyes. Rick immediately reacted by pointing his gun at Daryl's head, his hand steady and eyes trained to fire in case of sudden movements. I slowly approached the heavily breathing man and placed a shaky hand on his back, hoping to get him to lower his weapon.

"Lower it." I said cautiously, "Please." Daryl diverted his attention to me and dropped his weapon by an inch, keeping it high enough to get a headshot if he decided to fire a bolt. I just hope that he doesn't.

"I won't hesitate," Rick warned him, "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it." I rubbed Daryl's back, trying my best to comfort him. I didn't know if what I was doing helped, but I hoped it did. Plus, if Rick does fire that shot, we're as good as fucked. No way in hell we'd all come out of the city.

"Please listen to the man, Daryl," I whispered, slowly stepping around him and placing my other hand on the crossbow. He hesitated, pushing against me for a second before nodding slowly, lowering the weapon, and rubbing his eyes, freeing them from the tears threatening to spill out. He turned and glanced down at me, his hand pointing to my pack.

"You got a do-rag or something?" He asked. I nodded and slung my backpack forward, opening it and producing a blue bandana. He grabbed it from me and grunted, I guess it was his way of saying thank you, as he turned and wrapped his brother's hand in the bandana.

"I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs," Daryl said as he turned toward Glenn and shoved the hand in his pack. I observed the blood and squatted near the biggest splotch on the concrete, trying to understand the story behind all this. One thing I knew for sure, he cut off his hand and booked it, but who knows how long he has until he passes out from blood loss.

"Your brother is one tough son of a bitch." I muttered as I kept looking at the trail. I don't think I could have cut my hand off if it had been me. The bleeding wasn't as bad as it could've been, which led me to believe he used his belt as a tourniquet. "Must've used his belt as a tourniquet," I said.

"Be much more blood if he didn't," Daryl agreed, squatting beside me and inspecting the trail. Quickly, he began to follow the trail, his eyes closely studying everything it had to tell us about his brother's movements. I followed suit, grabbing my hunting knife and studying the trail on my own. Together, Daryl and I turned the corner, not a single word being exchanged between us. Holding my knife in an attack position, we readied ourselves for any roamers that might've gotten through the door T-Dog said he had locked, but there was nothing, just more blood and an open door that led down a stairway. Taking the initiative, I stepped forward and peered down the stairs, slowly starting my descent while keeping my guard up. A few steps in, Daryl decided it was the best time to scream out for his brother, making me wince.

"Merle!" He shouted, "You in here?" I glared at him, bringing my finger to my lips in a shushing gesture. Hundreds of roamers could be just waiting to jump on us, and he's catching their attention! He rolled his eyes at me and lightly pushed past me, climbing further down the stairs with his crossbow pointed. I felt a hand clasp down on my shoulder and met sharp blue eyes. From how he looked at me, I could tell he was asking me if I was okay. I shrugged and smiled at Rick lightly, winking at him as I followed the angry redneck. Daryl whistled quickly and pointed at a door to our left, motioning for me to look at the trail. The trail of blood briefly halted at the door, the handle dripping. I grabbed the handle and twisted it, bursting through the door and seeing a lone roamer. Determined to kill the thing, I started to move forward when Rick reached out and grabbed me, stopping me. Daryl raised his crossbow and shot the roamer square in the center of its head, a disgusting squelching sound filling the silence as the bolt penetrated the skull. The body hit the ground hard, and Daryl ran forward to retrieve his bolt.