Last One Standing ~ TWD Daryl Dixon

74

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Jo

I rounded the corner and I let myself see the herd. I counted it twice. I let my mind catalog each walker. There were eighteen. I let myself see which ones were the closest and what level of decay they were in. I let myself see how much room I had to move and how best to maintain the upper hand. I let myself see where I could stand and not get flanked. This was not going to be easy, and if I were alone I wasn't sure I would be able to kill this many. I glanced once more back at Daryl and told myself it was the last time until they were all dead.

I let myself to focus.

To this day I still didn't know if when I fought I turned something off in my head or turned something on. To be honest the answer scared me too much to think too hard about it. The man beneath the car continue to yell, and a small part of my brain was glad, it would keep that majority of the herd interested in him instead of us. Like a piece of bait. I heard the thwack of Daryl's crossbow and in the back of my brain I started to take a tally.

One.

I came up behind the first two and slammed my blades into their heads at the same time. I was stronger with my right, but the kukri was heavier than the hunting knife so the blades slid home at almost exactly the same moment. The Walkers were decayed badly enough gravity cleared the blades easily. Daryl stabbed another with the arrow in his hand and then reloaded his crossbow with it.

Four.

I took three running steps backwards to give myself space as the Walkers at the back of the herd noticed we were there. Daryl fired at another, before running in and grabbing the two arrows. He ran back out, getting clear of the car so he could reload. He stabbed another with the two arrows gripped in his fist.

Stop, reset.

I couldn't think about Daryl so much, it challenged my focus. It would make me sloppy.

Six. That was all that mattered. Six.

A mid-sized female walker was closest to me. I spun away at the last minute, driving my kukri up into the base of her skull. Slick, cool blood flowed down the handle of kukri, coating my fingers.

Seven.

Then I struck out sideways, driving the hunting knife home into the temple of a small male walker.

Eight.

The man beneath the car continued to scream. It was starting to sound less like fear and more like pain. I wasn't sure there would be anything left of him to save once we finished, but we had to try. I kicked the next walker back, it rebounded off the car, knocking another off balance. I struck two more down in quick succession using the identical movement I had on the previous two.

Nine, Ten.

The beauty of walkers was they didn't learn. I could use the same effective movements every time against a whole herd and it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. Walkers didn't fight, they only attacked. Mindlessly, instinctually, tirelessly.

There was another thwack somewhere to the left of me, but I didn't allow myself to look.

Eleven.

The ones I had kicked down were lumbering towards me. I kicked the knee out on the first and it fell. As it went down I stabbed the hunting knife into the temple.