For the Love of a Woman

Chapter 19

Daryl had made it past three blades, killed ten walkers, and dodged a wickedly, huge bear trap that would have cut his body in half. Not only was he still woozy from the witch's brew, the effects were getting worse. It was so bad that it looked like the walls were moving.

"Wait," he mumbled. The walls really were moving. "Damnit!" Daryl sprinted as the walls inched closer to him. If that wasn't bad enough, spikes started protruding out the dirt walls, which Daryl suspected wasn't all dirt but metal that worked when triggered by pressure.

Sweat rolled down his forehead as he held onto the flashlight with a vice grip. He was so busy trying to get out of range of the killer walls, that he didn't notice the walker milling around. Daryl slammed right into him. The walker came alive with the possibility of a fresh meal. Daryl struggled with it, unable to reach for his knife. He slammed the walker against the moving wall with such force that the dead man let go of him. Daryl hightailed it again. The spikes were getting closer. His upper arm scraped one of the spikes. He growled in pain as he finally got pass the range of the moving walls. He turned around to see, iron poles squeezing the dirt-iron slabs together.

Daryl exhaled as he reached for his canteen. He took a quick swig and continued on his journey. He had been walking for a while. Taking into consideration the rigged walls he figured he was close or even under Hampton's gates. Then, he saw the one thing he didn't think he would see down there; a fork in the road.

"Pssh." He figured that both paths led to the same destination, but which was the best path.

The witch's brew was making him feel tired or was it the sprint he just ran. Daryl didn't want to lean against the wall because he didn't want to accidently set off another bobby trap. He bent over to stretch his back. Bad idea, it only made his head feel heavy. He blinked a couple of times as he heard voices of people he knew weren't there.

"It wasn't your fault," Maggie said softly.

"I had to leave. I would've ended up killing that son of a bitch," Merle explained, breathlessly.

"Hi, Daryl," Dwight greeted menace in his tone.

"Someone killed them and then set them on fire!" Tyreese yelled.

"Give me your hand, brother," Rick strained to get out.

"Daryl, it will take a week to clear this," Aaron said with a defeated tone.

"Hey, D," Jerry greeted.

"Choke hold is illegal asshole," Rick said.

"Should we have matching bracelets now?" Carol said sarcastically.

"Get outta here, man," Merle mumbled.

"Deliver pizzas. Why?" Glenn asked.

"You're right, this group is broken," Dale said.

The sound of thousands of walkers echoed around him as the smell of gang green, putrescine blood, and burning flesh filled his nostrils.

Daryl screamed as he rose to stand up straight. The smell of death, stronger than it had ever been since the dead rose from their graves continued to invade his senses. His stomach churned at the excessively strong stench. For the first time since the world fell in the shitter, he lunged forward to puked.

When he was done, his eyes were watery, the taste of vile lingered in his throat, and his nose was running. He wiped his nose on his sleeve as he caught his breathe.