Fight With You - Daryl Dixon TWD

Chapter 17

[A/N) Quick thing, I am kinda unwell at the moment, so if there does happen to be a spelling mistake or something that's indecipherable, I'm wholly sorry :) ]

[I've been writing all day, and I'm starting to think this will be a looooong chapter... I might cut it in half, I might not. There are lots of skips, and it's kinda cause there are skips at the beginning of the episode, and in general tbh]

[This is 3.1k words hot damn]

[Extra: I added my roundhouse animatic at the top. I've been doing it for so long, but I've had this story idea for years so it still fits)

15 Graves, 16 Lives

-Previously-

"Should be just up ahead." Daryl drawls, passing me with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and gun in hand.

"Finally." I gripe, cracking my neck and walking lazily forward with Glenn. "Can't wait to get back to the tent. You best not snore tonight, dude."

"Did I snore last night?" Glenn asks genuinely, drawing a breathy laugh from me.

"Nah, you're a good tent-mate."

He smiles to himself at that, and we push on in a calming silence.

It was actually a nice walk, no unnatural noise pollution to ruin the atmosphere.

Then the screaming began.

---

We heard gunshots echo out from the camp along with screams and my blood ran cold.

Glenn's voice rang out beside me, but the words didn't lock in my brain until my feet pushed off and set off running.

The world felt like it was in slow motion, and the ringing in my ears blocked out the surrounding sounds of screams and gunfire. The only reason I got to the camp at all was the silhouettes of Daryl and T-Dog in front of me, leading the way.

As fast as we're able, we sprint out of the tree line and my ears stop ringing. The sight of our people running from the dead, being slaughtered around the same fire we communed at the night before was enough to kick my brain back into survival mode.

"Come on, make your way to the Winnebago!" Shane's voice rang out over the sound of shotgun shells being fired and rifle rounds piercing skin, and we followed suit.

I passed Andrea on the ground as she clutched at Amy's throat, hands soaked with blood as she tries to stop the bleeding from the bite, and hurl the butt of my gun into a Walker's skull before it has the chance to bite down on a little boy's arm. Pulling him toward me, I point to the Winnebago and clear the route for him, firing round after round into the surrounding Walkers.

There were so many bodies littering the dirt that I couldn't tell who was human and who wasn't. The sad truth was, they were all dead.

I shot down another four Walkers as people huddle in the RV, the men around me doing the same as the group of Walkers dwindle to none.