•A DARYL DIXON STORY•
"I need you to listen to me. When we're out there together, if I say run, run. If I tell you to leave me, then damn it, you leave and you don't look back."
"Daryl," she sighed softly, shaking her head.
"No, I mean it," he argue...
'I don't pay attention to the world ending. it has ended for me many times, and began again in the morning.' -nayyirah waheed
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Two Hours Ago
Daryl twisted the knob on his walkie with his teeth as his bike slowly rumbled down the road.
"Rick! The hell's going on back there," he growled into the hunk of plastic.
"Half of them broke off," Rick managed to respond through heaving breaths. "They're going towards Alexandria."
"That horn's coming from back home?" Daryl shouted back, weaving around a fallen branch in the road. He checked the car next to him to see Sasha rolling down the passenger window.
"We ran ahead of the herd but it's not stopping."
The chunk of the herd in the front kept on the path Daryl and the others had laid out for them, the motorcycle and car generating enough noise to keep them interested. But the air horn was blaring, even from this distance. A dinner bell for every walker within miles, and the back half chose to follow the promise of that dinner over the backs of their walker friends.
"I'm gonna gas it up, turn back." Daryl accelerated a few miles up, ignoring Sasha's fading protests.
"We have it. You keep going."
"They're gonna need our help," Daryl argued, though he slowed the bike anyway.
"Gotta keep the herd moving."
He caught Veronica waving at him in his peripheral, signaling to slow down. He ignored her, bringing the walkie closer to his mouth.
"Not if shit's going down, we don't."
"The rest of the herd turns back, then the bad back there gets a whole lot worse."
Even above the droning growls of the walkers trailing behind him, there was a faint ringing in his ears. Images flashed through his mind, of walkers overflowing the walls, filling the streets and forcing themselves into their homes. Of Zeppelin covered in blood..
"Daryl?" Rick's strained voice was barely audible above his own thoughts.
"Yeah, I heard you," he snapped and clicked the walkie off, shoving it back in his pocket. He checked behind him, the wave of the dead still crushing after them. He swerved closer to the car and leaned over.
"Hey! We gone five miles out yet?"
"Give or take some yardage," Abraham barked from the driver's seat. "You got a reason for asking?"
