R A N D O M || OS

192. (TWD) Daryl Dixon - I'm Right Here

https://crossbowking.tumblr.com/

PROMPT : "I think you broke my fucking nose!"

SUMMARY : (Set in the beginning of season 3) You and Daryl are out on a run attempting to find supplies for the group, when you come face to face with an unlikely threat.

WORD COUNT : 4,140

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It was hot.

And not your every day Georgian heat — but a new level of humidity that had sweat dripping from every inch of your body the second the sun came up. You had lost track of the months as time went on, but if you had to guess, you'd say it was right about the middle of July.

With the way the world was now, the dead up and walking, humanity turning against itself, the least you deserved was a slight breeze.

"What I would do for a glass of ice cold water right about now," you muttered to yourself, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

Sighing, you readjusted your grip on the shotgun you held, scanning the abandoned parking lot for signs of movement.

The area was mostly clear — save for a couple of long since abandoned cars, stray shopping carts, and the half a dozen walkers you and Daryl had taken down moments before.

You joined up with Rick's group a couple months back — they had just lost their farm and were on the run, attempting to find a safe haven to ride the winter out until finding a more permanent home.

As for you, you'd been on your own for a while — you were an only child and both of your parents had died years before everything went to hell.

After the world ended, you caught wind of a group that planned to make the trek to Fort Benning, unsure if the army base was still up and running. With no where else to go, it seemed like the smartest option for you.

The group of fifteen had only gotten a quarter of the way there before you started losing people. Some were torn to shreds by walkers, a few were bit and had to be put down — others just lost hope and faded away. Before you knew it, you were the last one standing.

But then you met a group of people — a group of survivors. And everything changed.

You'd been taking shelter inside an abandoned house, trying to ride out the winter. You were dangerously low on supplies but the thought of going outside with no backup scared you more than starving to death. You'd been debating whether or not to scavenge the houses on the other side of the neighborhood when a scream came from outside, drawing your attention to the frost covered window.

You saw a group of people out on the street surrounded by more walkers than they could handle. A few of the men were fending off the dead with knives and machetes, forming a tight circle around other members of the group. One of the women, you realized in horror, seemed to be pregnant.

Part of you knew you shouldn't get involved, shouldn't draw attention to yourself. But a bigger part of you couldn't sit and do nothing.

Resolutely, you grabbed your shot gun and swung open the door. You spotted a walker creeping up behind a man with a crossbow strung across his shoulder and pointed your weapon that way, cocking the gun and pulling the trigger, landing a perfect headshot.

The man jumped in surprise, his eyes scanning the area until they landed on you. You let out a shaky breath at the intensity of his gaze, lowering your weapon slightly.

A moment passed between you two, before he gave you a quick nod and stabbed the next walker he saw. With your help, the group was able to take down every walker on that street.