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chapter seventy-eight | the ghost of his
"OH, DEARIE ME." A voice humored as he cocked the gun against Rick's temple. "You screwed up, asshole." Another barrel pressed itself against Michonne's temple, as a knife was threatened to Carl from the truck he fell asleep in. The three were camping out for the night on the road to Terminus and didn't notice the claimers had snuck up on them until it was too late. "Today is a day of reckoning, sir. Restitution. Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve. Now, who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh? Ten Mississippi. Nine Mississippi. Eight Mississippi—"
"Joe!" A familiar voice approached from the forest behind. Rick, Michonne, and Carl mouths were agape in surprise at the sight of their friend as he emerged from the darkness.
Daryl was lagging behind the claimers, wanting some space from them for a bit, and wanted to try to find some food since the claimers stomped throughout the forest. He didn't expect to catch up and see them. This entire time he had been with the claimers, they were hunting his family. He felt like an idiot.
"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl," Joe said with annoyance.
"Just hold up," Daryl asked as he walked closer to Joe and the hostages he thought were gone forever. The two other claimers stepped behind the hunter with their rifles. Daryl noticed but paid no attention to them as his eyes caught sight of the man outside Carl's window, grinning.
"Say your piece, Daryl," Joe allowed.
"These people," he gestured to Rick and Michonne, "you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people."
"Now, I— I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all 'cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."
Rick's features twisted in recollection.
"You want blood, I get it. Take it from me, man," Daryl placed down his crossbow on the road, lifting his now empty hands. "Come on."
"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. See, now that right there is a lie." Daryl's arms dropped at his sides, his mouth agape at the meaning behind those words. "It's a lie!"
Daryl couldn't try to defend himself as a rifle slammed into his side suddenly, causing him to bend over in pain as another rifle hit the back of his head. They shoved him into the side of the truck as a man flew open the door and grabbed Carl, dragging him outside with a knife at his neck. They sent kicks, punches, and their weapons at Daryl's face, the back of his head, his chest, and his stomach. He fell to the floor after a rather nasty punch to his temple that had him seeing stars. He grunted in pain as they continued the beating, relentlessly.
Carl was thrown to the ground, and the man laughed as he straddled the boy, grabbing his arms and pinning them over his head. The man that stood over Michonne grinned, licking his lips as he examined her body in the dark. Joe taunted Rick, laughing in his face as he watched it happen.
