'Dareverus' (for Tonic)
Chapter 3: "I like to keep moving forward."
Hours had passed. All they had seen was a cloud of smoke that Severus seemed convinced was a 'ghost' (and had dispatched with a shower of gold sparks), a window that had held Daryl's attention for a curiously long time with its complex stained glass figures that seemed to whisper to him(before Severus had shattered them with a wave of his wand), and rubble. Lots of rubble.
No sign of any survivors. But no walkers either. Daryl wondered where they could have gotten to. He was surprised to not even hear the telltale animal like sounds or some sort of gnawing and ripping. Those walkers they had led into the chasm, (and inadvertantly followed) were just gone. But so were Daryl's people. What had happened to them?
He knew what had happened to Carl. Carl who had been the one to walk closer to the edge of the chasm and curiously look over the edge. He was the first to get pulled in. When Rick had leapt forward to try and catch him, and Daryl follwed to grab Rick, some sort of gravity yanked the whole group of them over the edge. The fall had broken Carl's neck. He turned before they could pick themselves up off the ground.
Some walkers got Maggie but Rick shot a bullet through her temple just as they were really getting started on her.
Daryl didn't want to think about what happened next but there was nothing else to distract him. This damn castle, (as Severus had informed him it was), was so quiet it was almost like walking through an ancient ruin, harmless but for its mysterious nature.
He knew Rick was dead. Really dead. Daryl had seen to that.
Three members of the group got separated while they tried to take down the hungry walkers. Daryl was shooting one-handed while the other hand slashed with his knife. The adrenaline kept him going. He took off half a walker's face with one swipe and kicked it in the chest, knocking it backwards. He spit on it triumphantly.
That's when he felt slimy hands on his shoulders. He stabbed behind wildly but did not connect with anything. He heard the gurgling growl of the walker's mouth about to make contact with his shoulder when suddenly the pressure was gone.
He turned to see Rick wrestling the damn thing to the floor.
“Rick!” Daryl saw that Rick had no gun and no knife. He searched the floor but couldn't see in the tangle of limbs and flesh; some rotting and some fresh and...well not alive anymore.
Rick had no weapon. Daryl jumped into the fray.
He rammed his knife into the walkers head and tugged it off his friend. He offered Rick a hand before he saw the jagged chunk torn from Rick's chest.
“Shit.” He knelt down and inspected the wound. He took out his knife deciding right then and there that he was going to cut every piece of infected flesh from that bite and save Rick from the poison spreading.
“No Daryl–”
“Shut up Rick..”
“Daryl, it's–it's right over my heart, no–no way am I–getting' through this–” He panted but showed no other signs of pain. He seemed uncharacteristically calm. Almost peaceful. Like those early days. Before Laurie died.
“Daryl–please–please take care–”
“Shut the hell up Rick!” Daryl didn't even realize that his voice was cracking and tears were streaming mingling with the blood and filth to leave muddy, bloody streaks.
“Take. Care of Judith. Don't let anyone–”
“Ain't nobody gonna touch Little Ass Kicker.”
“Good....good...” Rick's breathing was getting weaker. Daryl knew he was in pain even if he wasn't showing it. He longed to help his friend. Ease his passing.
“C'ept maybe Beth? She's better at changin' her diapers anyway...”
Rick laughed and coughed blood. Daryl pulled Rick's head onto his lap and wept. His friend was about to leave him. Everyone was leaving him.
“Take care of them Daryl–”
“Ain't no one left Rick.” Daryl sobbed softly, “No one lef to take care of...”
“Daryl–you–you have to...take care...you were always the best of us..."
“Naw Rick. It was always you. Always. Don't matter that you went a little crazy. We all went a little crazy. Don't matter.”
“Least I'll...see...Laurie...and Carl...”
And with those words Rick was gone. Daryl didn't waste a second. He shoved his blade into Rick's head crying out with a single sob that wracked his entire body. He slumped over Rick's body and just stayed there, taking gulps of air. No more tears. He was spent.
After several minutes he realized that no one else, living or dead, was moving in that room. He stood, not looking down at what had once been his closest friend; he used his gory blade to double check that everyone present was not getting up again. The few faces he recognized he quickly dismissed from his mind. Didn't matter anyway. He found his crossbow again and strung an arrow.
He strode from the hall and didn't look back.