Stray // Daryl Dixon

Haunt You Every Day

My stomach lurched, my heart jumping to my throat. It took me seconds too long to realize what was happening. Denise's body dropped in slow motion, Daryl catching her and cradling her to the ground. By the time I had my gun cocked and in my line of sight, Daryl mimicking my actions as soon as Denise was out of his grasp, a group of men had already swarmed in a half-circle in front of us. Daryl and I stood side-by-side between the two tracks, my heart pounding against my rib cage as I stared down fifteen Saviours.

"You drop 'em now!" a man shouted from the middle of the pack. He held Daryl's crossbow in his right hand while he pushed Eugene to the ground in front of him with his left. His long greasy, blond hair stuck to his face as his eyes remained on Daryl. My gut twisted when looking at the melted skin from a burn that covered the left side of his face. He was skeletal, his eye sockets drooping in dark circles and his beard grown out in patches. He licked his lips, taunting Daryl. My eyes veered to my left, waiting for Daryl's next move. I knew we didn't have a choice, not with Eugene held hostage. I sighed, the breath coming out as a shudder as I dropped my gun when Daryl did. "Well, hell," the man exhaled. I could feel Daryl's anger radiating from next to me, his body swaying like he was trying to restrain himself from launching at the man. The blond took notice, yelling, "You got something to say to me? You gonna clear the air? Step up on that high horse?" Daryl was silent as I glanced over at him, his eyes not breaking from the man's. "No," he laughed, "You don't talk much."

The man nodded to the Saviour and two of them pressed toward us. Their guns remain on us as they patted us down. Even though I knew Daryl would keep his eyes locked on the man he met in the burnt forest, my eyes darted at the man that patted down my sides. My eyes narrowed into slits, my body jerking in protest as he ran his hands down either one of my legs. I was a predator sizing up her prey, no matter how outnumbered we may have been.

"Still getting the hang of her," the blond said to Daryl, motioning to his crossbow, "Kicks like a bitch, but--"

"I should have done it," Daryl finally said, his voice eerily low.

"Oh, what's that?" he asked. "Seriously, I didn't catch what you said?" he echoed, mocking Daryl.

"I should've killed you," Daryl said, not a quiver in his voice. He was making the statement as if there weren't fourteen guns pointed directly at our heads.

"Yeah, you probably should have," the man responded. The tone in his voice wasn't one of a threat, but more of a warning. A warning like we had no idea what was about to come for us. "So, here we are. Kind of begs the question, right? Who brought this on who? I mean, I get that you'll just have to take my word for this, but... she wasn't even the one I was aiming for," the man smiled. My blood boiled from that statement alone. "Like I said, kicks like a bitch."

I looked down at Eugene, his bottom lip quivering as he knelt in front of the man. "It's nothing personal," he said as he gripped onto the back of Eugene's collar causing Eugene to pant heavily, his head whipping around for any sort of escape route. "Look, this isn't how we like to start new business arrangements, but, well, you pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?" he said, referring to our attack on their satellite base.

"What do you want?" I spat, my anger getting the best of me before I even realized I was snapping at him.

For the first time in this entire conversation the man looked over at me, a broad grin sliding up his face, "I'm sorry darlin', I didn't catch your name. I'm D or Dwight. You can call me either," he smiled as I stared him down, breathing in deep to try and stop myself from snapping any further. "So? What's your name?"

"Scar. What do you want?" I pressed, my tone was unforgiving.

"Well, Scar..." he sighed, "It's not what I want. It's what you and Daryl are going to do." I could feel my pulse rising, my skin feeling too tight for my body. How badly I wanted to rip my gun from the ground and send a rain storm of bullets their way. How badly I wanted to rip Daryl's crossbow out of Dwight's tatted fingers as we tell him how wrong he is for even thinking we were the kind of people they wanted to mess with. I feared the dead. Feared one day turning into one of them, but more than that I hated the living. "You're gonna let us into your little complex," he continued, "it looks like it's just beautiful in there. And then you're gonna let us take whatever and whoever we want... or we blow Eugene's brains out." Dwight gripped on tighter to the back of his collar, shoving him to the side. "And then yours. And then his," he explained, his eyes darting to Daryl and then back toward me. "I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die. We just try and start with one. You know... maximum impact to get our point across. So what's it gonna be? You tell me."