Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

End Game

"Who the hell are you?" one of the prisoners asked as Daryl and I inched forward.

"Not the parole board," I answered, pulling my spare pistol from the waistband of my jeans in an effort to cover as many bodies as possible.

"He's bleeding out. We gotta go back." Rick voice was urgent and commanding. I heard the others shuffling around, but I didn't take my eyes off the men in front of me. "Put pressure on the knee, hard!"

Maggie's quiet sobs as Rick kept shouting at her to push harder and harder was heartbreaking. That was her father lying there dying.

"Why don't y'all come on outta there. Slow and steady," Daryl instructed.

They complied without comment, too shocked at the scene playing out before them to argue. As the first man emerged I saw a gun tucked into the front of his pants and narrowed my eyes at him. He had long, greasy, black hair that was tied in a half ponytail and a stupid looking porn-stache. My spidey senses tingled, instantly weary of the man.

"What happen to him?" Porn questioned, his upper lip curling in distaste as he peered down at Hershel.

"He got bit," Daryl answered as the rest of the prisoners filed out, my anxiety skyrocketing every time another rounded the corner. How many were back there?

"Bit?"

He sounded confused, like Daryl's answer made no sense to him and it became apparent in the seconds that followed these assholes had been locked in the pantry for some time. He made a move for his gun, pulling it from his pants and I stepped forward as T stood up, drawing his own weapon.

"Settle down hero," I hissed in warning, his eyes flicking to me, his aim following his eye line.

The barrel of his pistol was now pointed in my direction. It was bad enough he pulled a weapon, but someone in the room whose name rhymed with barrel was not going to like that it was pointed at my head. Porn would be lucky to survive the next 30 seconds.

"You better put that the fuck down," Daryl snarled, his voice beyond lethal. The man's hand swiveled in his direction and I felt my own temper flare.

"Point that thing at him again and see what happens." Porn looked back and forth between us, unsure who was the bigger threat, but once his eyes examine every inch of my body he smirked slightly before aiming the gun back at Daryl. "Wrong choice."

"Sorry, but you don't look like much puta," he laughed.

"Oh man, that was the wrong move," T mumbled more to himself than Porn, his body bracing for the inevitable fallout, but I only smiled at him. Before he opened his mouth I was only going to kill him. Now I was going to have to hurt him too.

"Best shut yur mouth."

Daryl's temper was verging on manic, his body vibrating he was so worked up. The hostility in the room was so thick I thought I might choke on it. The walkers pushed on the door and it groaned under their collective weight as Glenn raced past the inmates, frantically searching the kitchen for something to transport Hershel.

"Who the hell are you people anyway?" Porn asked.

"Don't look like no rescue team," one of the smaller inmates with reddish hair commented. He looked like Archie from the comic strip. If Archie was a convicted felon.

Rescue team?

"Come on, we gotta go!" Rick yelled and I could hear them straining to lift the unconscious man as Glenn raced by with a cart on wheels. "Come on, we need a hand here!"

Once they had him on the cart Rick hollered for T to get the door, and I nodded at him, letting him know it was OK to go.

"Alex, Daryl!" Rick yelled as they rushed through the door.