𝑵𝑬𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪
𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘚𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕
☼
The fresh, cold air felt amazing against her burning skin - stupidity had turned her cheeks slightly red. What was wrong with her? What was so fundamentally wrong with her - hadn't she learn her lesson? Hadn't she told Rick that she didn't trust him. How many damn heartbreaks could she go through before it just- before it ruined her. She had no idea, no idea and she had no desire to test it.
A part of her was angry at Rick, fuming even, that he had been so careless to bring a baby into a world like this - at all. He hadn't struck her as the type who thought with his dick, but then again what did she know, nothing. She knew nothing about him. Nothing at all and she had to remind herself that - remind herself that she knew nothing about any of these people.
Frustration was making her eyes water, that was one of those silly, pathetic things about her she supposed, that her eyes always watered when she was angry - or frustrated in this case. She was torn between staying with her brother, surviving with her brother and just running off into those woods and never looking back. Harsh, cruel maybe, but Delaney had done this one too many times.
She knew part of her wouldn't be trusting them any time soon, not even if they fed her, not even if they took watches as she slept - because people changed. Hell if she didn't know that.
"What is wrong with me." She hissed beneath her breath, swiping at her eyes with the heel of her palm, getting rid of the tears she was forming -
"Nothing is wrong with you." Involuntarily Delaney tensed up at the interjection of a female voice, Carol's voice to be specific. She had been stressing so hard that she hadn't even heard her approaching down the steps and that, that was dangerous. Carol slowed to stop beside her, sticking her fingers into the loop of her belt, "Fitting in is difficult." Her shoulder shrugged as Delaney shot her a narrow eyed stare, " - it's not for everyone."
Delaney huffed a noise, "You seem ta do fine." Her tone was understandably guarded, clipped and short, though Carol didn't seem to take much notice. Rather she began to walk along the grass, kicking her boots through it's uncut lengths. Delaney watched for a moment before deciding Daryl would undoubtedly murder her if she let his girlfriend walk off - she snorted to herself at the thought. It had been clear to her that Carol and her brother were close, good friends at the very least if nothing more.
"You'd think so." Carol mused, sounding a little bored as she spoke. She was heading in the direction of the trees, and still unnerved by the thought of Terminus survivors lurking around Delaney reached down for the knife in her boot, cursing that she hadn't brought Scout's rifle.
Turning her head to look at Carol, Delaney questioned, "Aint they ya friends?" She observed Carol in the dim light of the night, trying not to think much about it. God, she hated the dark. "I'd figure you'd be pretty thrilled bein' back with 'em." Perhaps not, Delaney thought as she watched Carol shrug a second time. It wasn't as if Delaney hadn't seen how this woman interacted with the group. She was a friend. Definitely. But there was something wrong, something tense, perhaps even a little bitter.
"We've all done things." Carol told her, briefly looking her direction, before focusing back on making her path through the trees. " - things we're not proud of." What truth that was, Delaney thought, admitting Carol was absolutely right in saying that. They had all done shit since this outbreak had begun, things that laid heavy in their minds - or hearts. Delaney had done plenty, too much really for one person. Carol seemed to notice the echoing silence that followed her words and with a glance to the younger woman, she hummed beneath her breath. "They're good people - But sometimes, I wonder if that's a bad thing."
No, good - good was needed. Good is what kept things balanced. There couldn't be only bad in the world these days, there had to be people good enough, kind enough to try. Like Carl, that sweet kid back at the Church, he had the makings of something so pure, so decent. It was people like that, that they needed. Tightening her grasp around her knife, Delaney answered with a, "Naw, We need good. Can't all be assholes."
Her companion scoffed in obvious amusement at her brusque manner, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
It was shortly after that the two of them reached the road, filling Delaney with a sense of relief at the fact the moonlight was more so visible out there. Her eyes locked onto the car parked on the side of the road, curiously sending Carol a questioning look as she walked toward it. "Think it works?" Del wondered, figuring they could get it running and add it to their list of vehicles to take to D.C.
"It works." Carol announced, "Got it sorted earlier on." The engine rumbled to life when Carol lent into the door, twisting the keys. Impressed with the forethought for a moment, Delaney simply observed, before realizing - it was forethought for something else. Carol was out there for reasons different to Delaney - or perhaps not. Perhaps she was trying to escape in a similar manner, too over stimulated, too trapped, feeling like she needed a moment to simply breathe. Del could relate to that.
"Plannin' on leavin'?" With her arms folding over her chest, her eyes spotted the way Carol paused, how she stilled for a second as if she didn't truly know what she was doing. An impatient huff escaped the younger woman because Carol meant something to Daryl, it was clear as day, and yet this bitch was leaving without a goodbye. It ruffled Delaney's feathers and in annoyance, she was about to ask her about Daryl when a rotter fumbled up onto the road, attracted by the speech.
Carol quickly took it out with her knife, sending it to the floor with one curve of her arm. Delaney did a once over of her then, figuring Carol was much more than she had originally assumed - like her in a sense. There was something familiar about her demeanor. Something painfully familiar.
The bushes behind Delaney rustled and both she and Carol twisted around to see what it was. To their relief and not, it was Daryl. He stepped out into view, bruises highlighted by the moonlight and his bow firmly slung on his shoulder. Of course he had noticed them both missing, of course he had, and a subtle wave of guilt made Delaney glance away.
"What are ya doin'?"
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Delaney did not answer. She instead listened to the way that Carol responded with a, "I don't know." She sounded defeated, voice smaller than before. Maybe she truly did not know, running on some silly instinct, some silly thought. Whatever it was, Daryl didn't question her, as if knowing too, and instead gestured for them both to come back with him.
At which point the engine of a car revved loudly up the road, speeding closer and closer, which had Daryl, Carol and Del dropping down behind the running vehicle in front of them, alert. From the adjacent road, a dark coloured vehicle sped past, the sound of it's engine echoing in the dark silence. A huff escaped Delaney's mouth as Daryl suddenly darted out and sprinted up the road to see what it was, whilst she looked to Carol. "Ya don't know?" Is what she said, her eyes searching the older woman's face in the dark. "I think ya do."
Carol didn't say anything, not that Delaney expected her to. It was one of those things. And now that Daryl was there, he had brought a sobering truth to them. He barreled back to them, scooping his bow up into his arms, panting and huffing, making a show of smashing the rear light right beside Delaney. "What the fuck are ya doin'!" She exclaimed, jerking away from the shattered plastic. He did the same to the second rear light, explaining simply,
"They got Beth."
Who the fuck was Beth?
Delaney watched him lose his shit, smashing the rear light before darting to the front of the car, calling them to get in the fucking car. Painfully confused, she did as he asked, wrenching open one of the passenger doors to hop inside. She tumbled into the seat when he slammed his foot down onto the accelerator, sending them jetting off up the street in the same direction as the other car. It's red taillights were visible up the road, and they were not, thankfully.
Delaney shifted, her gaze looking between Carol and Daryl, waiting for someone to explain what on earth they were doing. Beth, was a name she hadn't heard before. For as long as they'd been together, she hadn't heard anyone mention any other names other than the ones belonging to the group. She had wondered, typically, what had happened to them before Terminus. No one had said a word, and she assumed it had been better for them to simply forget it.
That being said, it didn't necessarily surprise her to learn that there might have been other people.
They tailed the car in front for a while, before Carol broke the silence. "So, it was just you and Beth, after?"
After what?
Delaney squinted her eyes, shifting to sit more or less in the middle of the back to be able to see straight through the window up front. Her eyes were locked on the taillights of the vehicle, wondering how far they were going to take this. Daryl grunted a one word answer, not taking his eyes off of it either, focused.
"You save her?"
"She's tough." Daryl roughed out, "She saved herself." There was an unmistakable fondness in Daryl's tone as he spoke, an unfamiliar thing, a soft kind of thing - and it interested her. "We were out there for a while. We got cornered, she got out in front 'a me, an'...I dunno, she was jus' gone." Delaney slumped in the spot at this, just gone, a lot like Scout had been, though clearly Daryl assumed this Beth was alive, wherever she was.
Running her hand uncomfortably up and down her thigh, Delaney listened vaguely to the conversation between the two in front of her, but also not listening. There was those thoughts again, those stupid, asshole kind of thoughts that always made her feel guilty for thinking them. Had he worried about me like this? Had he looked for me like this? Delaney hated, absolutely hated how she was second guessing her brother. She had spent a long time looking for her brothers, a long time, and she had come up short every time. There was no traces of them, nothing, and she had been made to move on. Had Daryl and Merle looked, had they looked for a long time before giving up. Had they given up?
Daryl hadn't taken his eyes off her much since he'd found her, always observing, always checking. Part of her knew it was because he loved her, and reasonably, he was doing it because he cared. He wanted her safe. He wanted her alive. It was proof that he was glad to have her back, but a little piece of her wondered if it was worse this way. Sure, being a part of that group like a family meant that a death hurt, it would always hurt. However, Daryl had known Delaney since she was born, she was his blood, his sister. If she died, if she died because of how sickly she'd gotten in Terminus - it would crush him.
Just as if he died, from anything, person, rotter, sickness, it would kill her too.
She closed her eyes and kneaded her fingers against them, trying not to dive into that fucking rabbit hole of thoughts. It wasn't fair of her to be thinking like that - it wasn't.
He'd done nothing but love her too.
After a while, they were on the I-85 and driving right towards the city. Delaney was nervously chewing on her lip as the sky got darker and darker. She trusted Daryl not to crash the car, she did, but without the headlights on it was making her increasingly nervous. She began to bite at her nail, worrying the skin on her thumb as her eyes darted back and forth across the dirty window.
Atlanta was overrun. There was no denying that. The big city had been bombed at the very beginning when things began to look too dismal - only the bombing had made things much worse than not. For those that did not suffer an injury to the brain in the blast, the bombing only succeeded in bringing them back as rotter's. It was stupid, and frankly, the military should have known better. Delaney would forever think them dumbasses for how they'd handled it in the beginning. Now Atlanta was a hub of dead energy, where the rotter's were ambling down every street in big groups. It was more or less a death sentence entering the city, especially after dark.
"Ya know how stupid it was followin' 'em into the city was, right?" Delaney spoke up quietly from the back, inching closer to the middle as they all observed someone getting out of the passenger side of the car to move obstacles in the road. The moonlight just barely illuminated the person so it was difficult to tell if it had been a man or woman. Either way, they were clearly dressed in a cop uniform.
"s'fine." Daryl muttered, glancing back at her. His eyes lingered for a moment and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it may have been due to the fear she knew was pumping through her veins, she hated Atlanta. The memories of it at the beginning were tumbling freely in her mind and she couldn't stop imagining those hoards of dead, the sounds, the -
Daryl's hand touched her arm and she jerked slightly, startled. Her eyes darted back and forth across his face, a frown forming. He didn't call her out on it, his hand giving her arm a squeeze before he turned back to the front, reaching to start the car once it was safe. But it didn't start, and Delaney humorlessly laughed, "Great."
Carol was staring at the rotter banging on her window, disgusted, annoyed, with her knife visibly in her grasp. She announced moments later that she knew a place that they could sit tight until morning, but they'd have to go on foot and it was a couple of blocks away. Delaney was gritting her teeth, annoyed at the both of them for getting them into this shitty situation, fucking idiots. In all honesty she couldn't give a flying about who this Beth was, nor about getting her back. Neither of them had explained who she was, and didn't seem as if they were going to, and that fact alone disinterested her.
All she wanted to do was get out of Atlanta.
Delaney couldn't help but scowl at Carol when she directed them to a door that had been padlocked shut, a back entrance, but she supposed an entrance all the same. Annoyed, Delaney stood with her back to Daryl as he tired to break their way in, banging against the rusting padlock to gain entry, but also making a bunch of noise. She appreciated that there wasn't much choice otherwise, but as her eyes darted down the street she saw the shadows of rotter's as they came ambling up the street, attracted by the bangs. "There's two." Carol announced and Delaney shot her another look,
"There's a fuckin' lot more than two."
Daryl grunted something from behind them, before the sound of the lock breaking away from the wood caught her attention. She quickly darted past him on the steps and opened the door, though a couple of steps inside of the darkness, she stilled. Carol slammed right into her back with a huff, side stepping with a simple question, "What's wrong?"
The hall was dark. It was dark enough to be pitch black and Delaney felt the fear tremble up her spine. She couldn't see a thing, and the haunting memories of childhood trauma and Terminus came flooding to the forefront of her mind. She didn't budge, standing solidly on the spot as she stared. Carol turned on a flashlight, illuminating the hall ahead of them but Delaney was already done for, already aware of the way her heart was hammering in her chest and sweat was beginning to bead on her skin.
Oh.
She stepped backwards and bumped right into Daryl, swallowing thickly, panicked, trying to control it but, how? She had no idea how to remind herself that Daryl and Carol were both there, lights in their hands, and with her. Some part of her, a small portion felt so alone again, so small, so terrified. The flashlight in Carol's hand shone her direction once she noted there was nothing of danger in front of them, and Delaney barely flinched at the intrusion. "What's wrong, Hey - "
Delaney felt her brothers hand touch her shoulder, feeling the way that she trembled violently, "The Dark." He muttered roughly, "She don't like it."
Carol didn't say anything, but something softer crossed her features and Delaney felt so horribly embarrassed. Frozen to the spot though, she felt like she couldn't do a thing, not even breathe. On the other hand, Carol stepped forward and held out the flashlight she had been holding, "here.." She pressed the warm thing into Delaney's palm and tried to meet her eyes, "We need to move away from the door - can you do that?"
Delaney clutched onto the light, tightening her grasp. "Y-Yeah. Yes. Sorry." Delaney stammered the words out uncharacteristically, swallowing harshly, before she took a step. A single step, lifting the light. Walking felt like her legs were made of lead, but with Daryl's hand on her shoulder and Carol in front of her, she felt safer. The two of them wordlessly worked together to escort her to somewhere less painfully dark, less suffocating.
Luckily, for them, there wasn't any rotter's inside of the building, and Carol was able to lead them to an empty room. Delaney was relieved to see the stream of moonlight that poured through the open curtain, and she took a breath. Her eyes darted down to the trembling of her hand, observing it before clenching it into a firm fist to stop it. With her nails digging into her palm, she stood at the window as Carol and Daryl looked at the bunk beds.
"What is this place?" Her brother asked, setting his bow onto the desk, his eyes flashing down to the book sitting on th top, Treating survivors of childhood abuse.
"Temporary housing." Carol announced and at that, Delaney did a once over of the room. Now that her heart didn't feel like it was drumming in her brain, she was able to take notice of her surroundings. It was a simple room, a set of bunk beds, some belongings - little, but some, and a desk with some necessities on it.
"Ya came here?"
"Didn't stay long." Carol brushed off, her eyes lifting to Delaney, who was reaching over to a shelf to pick up a familiar book. It didn't start with you - Mark Wolynn. Carol's scrutinizing stare caught how Delaney sighed, how she lowered her head a little, prompting her to ask insensitively, "You've been here before?"
Delaney didn't look at her, instead she read the little scattering of writing on the front of the book, How inherited family trauma shapes who we are and how to end the cycle. As she brushed her finger against the cover, Delaney shrugged a shoulder, knowing both of them were looking at her. Carol was curious, somewhat knowing and Daryl, well, he was staring at her with squinted eyes, confused. She had spent time in Temporary housing before, fleeting time, having nowhere else to go when her father got bad, when his friends got worse.
"Dint stay long." Delaney echoed Carol's words and slotted the book back onto the shelf, straightening out her spine beneath the scrutiny of her companions. Embarrassed beneath the stares, for no reason at all, Delaney turned her back on them both and peered out of the window to the roof top. With her silence came a sort of discomfort, mostly due to the fact that her brother had looked at her so confused, as if he had no idea that she'd even need a place like this - as if he'd forgotten about their father.
It made her bristle in annoyance to think about.
Carol and he talked quietly among one another, and Delaney focused her attention out on the dark roof top, trying to forget the fact that they were in the middle of Atlanta city. How stupid. How reckless. She wasn't this dumb - she wasn't. Delaney didn't do shit like this, it wasn't how she worked these days. She was smart, intelligent and calculating about her movements, about her next steps and yet, all it took was her brother yelling at her to get in the car, and here she was.
A thump from down the hall made Carol and Daryl jerk upright, and Delaney turn her attention to the door, focused. Sucking in a sharp breath, willing herself not to think about it, she lifted her knife and followed them both out of the door. Daryl marched down the halls, crossbow armed, ready for anything that might jump out of the open rooms. To their relief, nothing jumped out at all, but by the end of the hall they became aware of a rotter banging on the frosted glass of one of the rooms. It was difficult to tell whether it was a man or woman, but Delaney could guess.
She sighed, leaning her back against the wall, observing how Daryl and Carol gave one another a silent look. Then, their eyes were drawn to a much smaller, much more heartbreaking sight. The body of a child rotter joined it's parent, banging against the glass. It's wheezes and groans were quieter but higher in pitch and Delaney felt something simply ache inside of her.
Seeing a child rotter was always painful. Delaney always treated them with care, with tears stinging in her eyes, her heart pounding. She couldn't count the times she'd sobbed over one of them, torn between moving on and burying them.
This felt no different.
Daryl stopped Carol from heading in there, reassuring her with a quiet, "Ya don't have to." His body moved to block the sight when Carol moved a second time, "You don't." The woman gave him a fleeting look before turning on her heel and walking off, passing Delaney without another word. For a while, Delaney stayed there, locked on the pair though the frosted glass, again reminded of the cruelty of this world now.
Daryl walked past her too, making his way back to the room in silence. Whilst it didn't immediately strike her odd, Delaney did turn to watch him go, brow arching slowly as he rounded the corner at the end of the hall, not even sparing a look behind him. Odd, she then thought.
Raiding the inside of the rooms with Carol's light and the knife, Delaney found very little. She did manage to pilfer a bottle of water and some Twizzlers. She sat in the hall, sliding down the wall, drawing her knee's up. For a while, she just sat there chewing on the end of one of the sweets, listening to the thumping of the glass, eyes closing. She was safe enough here - she knew, and there was moonlight streaming through the windows so she wasn't in pitch darkness. That is what triggered her. Pitch black.
She ended up sitting there the entire night, blinking somewhat dazed back into reality when sunshine glinted through the windows instead of moonlight. Her head turned to where she heard a rustle, gaze landing on Daryl as he turned round the corner, bow in his grasp. His eyes darted down to her, as if figuring she'd been there the entire night, asking a simple, "All right?" When she nodded he proceeded past her, turning the corner to the frosted glass.
Something was off. She sensed it. He was doing that thing - the thing where he avoided eye contact and distanced himself. The past days he had been beside her like something stuck, like glue even, but this night, he'd separated himself and hadn't come to check in on her once. The difference was was huge, and notable, and Delaney guessed she must have done something to piss him off. That was how things usually went.
She pissed him off and he walled himself away.
Her head thumped back into the wall when she heard Daryl dealing with the dead, eyes squeezing shut. It became too quiet, the rhythm lost. Delaney tried to focus on the noises Daryl was creating in the room, the rustling of sheets, his frustrated huffs and mutters, restless nonetheless. She got to her feet, shoving the Twizzlers into her back pocket and grabbed the bottle, approaching the room he was inside of. She kept her eyes strictly off of the bodies, pausing in the doorway to see Daryl was stripping sheets off of the beds.
"We should wake Carol. Get movin'." Delaney announced, wincing at the harsh stench of the room. It smelt pungent. It smelt like rot and decay.
"Leave 'er." Daryl grunted, yanking the sheet off of the bed with rough hands.
"Daryl we have ta get out of Atlanta." She huffed, irritated. "We're like sittin' ducks here. It's overrun." Wildly gesturing with her hand, Delaney stepped further into the room, "You're no idiot." He scoffed at her, tossing the sheet behind him, narrowly missing her. She side stepped and glared, "What is wrong with you?"
"We need ta find Beth."
"Who the fuck is Beth!" Delaney suddenly snapped, frustrated. He had assumed she knew, assumed she cared. "I don't know who that bitch is, and ya dragged me here - "
" - shut ya mouth." Daryl paused what he was doing, barely looking over his shoulder as he growled the low threat. Delaney wasn't having it though. He had no right to be mad in this situation, she did. He was the one who dragged her here, triggered her fucking PTSD, and now he was telling her to shut up? No.
"Ya know what, maybe ya are an idiot." Delaney continued, "Whoever this Beth is, she's fuckin' dead - and we're gonna be if we hang 'bout here." She waved her hand around once more, "So stop fuckin' around, and lets go."
"Go then." Daryl whirled to face her, huffing. His dark hair was hanging about his eyes, though it didn't shield her from the intensity of his glare, "Ya want ta go, then fuckin' go, stop opening that trap 'a yours." He tossed the sheet in his hand onto the ground with the other one. Delaney stared at him in disbelief, not understanding. Not understanding. Why was he being so dumb. Sure, he and Merle were relatively stupid - but in different context. "I dint drag you nowhere." Daryl then gruffly roughed out.
"That's a fuckin' lie." Delaney kicked at the sheets when he went to pick them up, earning herself a harsh look, "Ya the reason we're here. Draggin' me around in the dark when ya know - "
" - ya were out there on ya fuckin' own." Daryl snatched the sheet off of the floor, "Walkin' in the dark, I dint drag ya out there - The fuck ya doin' out there if ya fuckin' scared of it." he wrenched the sheet out from beneath her boot and she stumbled a step, with a gasp of breath. He lifted his gaze to her, "Stop blamin' me for your shit - I don't have time for it....Beth needs -
"I don't give a fuck about Beth." Delaney snarled at him, frustrated, "I do give a fuck about livin' and if we stay here, we're gone die." was she getting her point across so badly that he just didn't understand the problem. Atlanta was full of rotter's. It was overrun, and she thought that was simple enough to get. If they didn't go now, then they'd be stuck there again and she did not want to spend another night in the city.
"I said watch'cha mouth!"
Delaney jerked when Daryl stepped closer, nose flaring in his annoyance. Her eyes darted to his fisted hand that clutched so tightly onto the sheet that his knuckles were turning white. "Your friend is dead."
"Get outta here." Daryl demanded, "Take ya bullshit with ya."
Delaney held her ground, staring at his back when he turned around to grab the sheets into his arms. This, admittedly sadly, wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Delaney had fought with her brothers just as much as she hadn't and in truth, when they fought, they fought. Words were always sharp, always cutting. Delaney never walked away from a fight with one of them without tears burning in her eyes. They liked to remind her how small she was sometimes, how pathetic. Daryl always apologized at some point, after a long period of pretending he hadn't done anything, but she wasn't going to let him do it now, here, when she knew she was right.
Unexpectedly Delaney reached forward to draw Daryl back into their conversation to make him look at her as she spoke, the words biting on her tongue. As her hand touched down onto his arm, Daryl furiously whirled around and Delaney flinched. She flinched, and her heart jerked into her throat, because she actually thought he was going to hit her, his fist still clenched, expression seething, "Fuck off." Was what he said, and so she did.
Delaney shoved past him, hurrying out of the room with the tears stinging as she knew they would.
He wasn't all good - she knew that. But he was more good than not. Daryl was just like her, brash and harsh at times, but he had a heart, he had a big heart. His temper though, it was white hot and biting, and she had forgotten how it felt to be on the receiving end of his barbed words. She just wanted to get him out of Atlanta, to leave, to -
Delaney paced her way down the hall, knife in her hand, trying to wipe away the tears blurring her vision. Well, she'd leave even if he didn't. She wasn't going to stay in Atlanta for a girl she didn't even know - for a girl who was probably dead and buried anyway. She wasn't dumb. She wasn't going to make another stupid choice and get herself into another situation, that this time, might actually get her killed.
No way - not that day at least.
If Daryl wanted to fuck around with the dead and run head first into a shit storm for some Beth, then that was his problem, not hers. She had done this before. She had wanted to get out of Terminus, a gut feeling screaming at her to go, but she'd listened to Scout and -
Delaney plunged her knife into the skull of one of the dead, shoving it violently away from her as she huffed through her nose, continuing on up the street she'd exited on. Daryl could go ahead and be her guest, he could take his asshole energy and his fucking words and shove them right up his ass as far as she was concerned. She violently killed another rotter, retracting her knife before she slipped down one of the alleys, jogging her way in the direction of another street, hoping to find one of the signs familiar.
Atlanta wasn't entirely familiar to her, but she was sure she'd be able to find her way back if she found that car they'd arrived in.
Instead of the car, Delaney stumbled upon blockades. Cement blockades that were on either side of the street, topped with barbed wire. There was old rusted military stop signs and one that might have once said, safe zone, but there was far too much blood for it to be clear. Careful, Delaney observed her surroundings, chewing on her dry lip in the meantime. It was clear, mostly, with the exception of about three or four dead ones. They were all wandering around in their closed off space, decked out in their military uniforms.
She saw a semi-automatic hanging round the shoulders of one of them, and figured whilst the gun would be dumb to use in the city, it would be helpful for when she got out. So, skillfully, Delaney darted out from her alley and sunk her knife into the nearest rotter. Blood spattered to the side when she retracted the knife, eyes following as the other four clambered her direction. She grimaced, kicking one in the stomach with her foot while taking out another with her knife.
Groaning at the gut rotting stench, Delaney grabbed onto the uniform, pressing her arm against the man's chest, drawing her knife up and into it's skull, before backing up to avoid the last of them. Nervously, she looked down the street, seeing some more coming. Cursing beneath her breath, she took out the last one.
She pilfered the weapons from his body, slinging the rifle over her shoulder by it's strap, trying not to think about the guts covering it. Then she grabbed the handgun from his holster, eyes darting up the road once more. She stuffed it into her waistband and got to her feet, darting through the blockade to run, putting distance between herself and the small group of about five dead.
As he darted down into another of the alleys, her knife gripped tight in her hand, Delaney felt something collide harshly with her. A grunt passed through her, followed by the sound of a living, breathing person whimpering, "Don't hurt me."