Greek Tragedy | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 1 | He's Just Stupid

The trigger on the crossbow plinked with its released, sending the bolt into its intended target: a corpse shuffling away. She had aimed for the head, but the projectile thudded sickeningly into the creature's shoulder, gaining its attention.

"Shit, shit, shit!" the girl hissed, fumbling to load another bolt as the corpse turned and growled at her, its face torn open to reveal oozing black puss, decaying teeth and a mangled cheekbone, clean of flesh. It hobbled closer, slowed only by the bone protruding from its ankle. The man might once have been a farmer given his long beard, flannel, and dungarees. Now though... Now he was a monster. His gnarled green-and-purple fingers stretched out impatiently to reach his next meal before she skittered a few steps back to buy time.

Finally, the girl gave up on reloading that infernal crossbow and threw it down in frustration, drawing her brother's favourite hunting knife instead. Just as the corpse reached her, she plunged the knife into his skull and spat out the spray of black blood. Pushing it away, the corpse fell to join the dead matter on the ground with a soft rustle. She huffed as if the weapon had somehow betrayed her and swept up the sling, hefting the crossbow over her shoulder.

"Gross," she mumbled disgustedly, shimmying the serrated knife from the dead thing's skull and cleaning it off on a thick tuft of moss.

At the next clearing, the girl checked her perimeter before settling her bag and weapons down for a water break and map check. According to the paper, there was a creek where she could fill up her canteen about a mile east and according to the sun, east was straight ahead.

It couldn't have been fifteen minutes later when the girl heard a terrified animal's shriek followed by a man's cry and thundering hooves approaching. Branches snapped as the animal drew closer until a chestnut mare burst through the underbrush, eyes rolling with white. It skidded to a halt in front of her, rearing and knapping and whinnying, snorting and stamping its feet. Instinctively, the girl reached up and snatched the mare's flailing reigns but she was having none, tossing her head and speeding off into the trees once again.

Following the mare's tracks back the way it came, the girl soon heard a gurgling creek; the one from the map. Finding a less steep bank to slide down, the girl splashed into the shallows of the little stream. She bent down and cupped water in her hands to splash her face with when a groan jolted her. Her hand snatched her brother's hunting knife from its pouch and held it up in defence, expecting to see a corpse.

In fact, the sight before her was much more frightening. A man, lying on his side, unconscious. Nearby lay a crossbow, a different model to her own and one her brother would envy for sure. In the side of his abdomen, just above the hip, stuck a bolt that she could only assume was his own.

"Oh my god," she mumbled to herself, putting away the knife and running over. The horse must have belonged to him; he couldn't have been a particularly competent rider if he fell off when the horse spooked. Maybe it wasn't his.

Shaking her head back to the present, the girl checked his pulse and sighed in relief when she felt a soft and steady thud on his cool neck. She dropped her bag and rolled the man onto his back, being sure to keep the arrow in his side as steady as possible. She rifled through her bag and produced a ragged t-shirt that used to be white. Pressing the fabric hard against the area surrounding the arrow, she snapped the fletched end clean off.

"Goddammit!" The man was half-conscious, eyes focused and unfocused on her. "Who the hell're you?" He slurred.

"I'm tryin' to save yer life so if ya'd stop squirmin' I might just be able to deal with the fact that you fell on yer own damn bolt ridin' a horse that ain't even yours," the girl snapped.

"Bitch, get away from me!" He feebly swatted her hand away, only to have her return to her task with a tut. "I don't need no pussy help, I..." He trailed off into an incomprehensible jumble of protests and profanities.