Survival - Chapter Four

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage." - Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Disoriented. Daryl Dixon stumbled to his feet, resting a hand on the slick surface of the bar. He came to quite quickly, staring around the empty saloon in disgust. He patted his pockets and sides, wanting to grab his knife, and frowned as he discovers he's unarmed. "Where's my blade?" he muttered. And he slowly came to realise that the thugs had rendered him useless. "They took everything?" He posed his question to the empty building, knowing that if walls could talk, the building would have enough secrets and dealings to fill up an entire book.

Beaten. Emily opened her eyes, hearing the shouts and cries of the burly group of men. The noise was muffled and it took her a few short seconds to realise that she was surrounded by darkness. The air was thick. She struggled to breathe and with a cry of alarm, she realised she was locked in the trunk of a car. Her screams went unnoticed and knowing that oxygen was in short supply, she quickly closed her mouth and forced her foot against the roof of the trunk - kicking it with all the strength she could muster.

How long had it been? Daryl searched the area, combing through the abandoned cars and vans. He turned, holding his crossbow aloft, watching the empty street. It was then that he heard it - the thump of something in one of the cars. A muffled scream. Creeping forward, Daryl readied his weapon before popping the lid to the trunk of the car closest to him. What he saw stopped his breathing. "Jesus, Emily," he grunted, ripping the dirtied rag from her mouth. The girl coughed and sputtered, kicking her legs out over the edge of the trunk.

"I can't-", began Emily, still coughing. "I can't breathe."

Daryl reached into his pack and pulled out a bottle of water. "Take it," he ordered, dark eyes watching her every move. She looked like a wild animal, her doe brown eyes flitting back and forth. "You good?"

She choked on the water as she chugged it down. "Never better," she muttered. "Where's your brother?"

"Up ahead."

And she nodded her head, running her cramped hands over her tired face. "We better get moving before any of those things catch us standing here." A pause. "Which way?" she asked.

"Stay behind me," muttered Daryl, and he led the way back to the car.

"Scout?"

"Emily? Thank God! We thought you'd died," cried the redhead, swinging down from her perch atop the abandoned truck. The woman smiled, though it didn't meet her eyes.

Daryl took one step forward, raising his arm to point at the female. "Saved your ass at the diner," he remembered, previous conversations flooding his mind. As the woman began to call in a favour, he grunted, "Do I look like your bitch?"

Scout laughed. "Not in that outfit you don't," she answered, eyes roaming over the two's tired and ragged forms.

"What?" barked Daryl before the words sunk in. "Hell no," he replied, turning away. It was Emily's hand on his arm that pulled him back, tugging him closer.

"Oh, c'mon," laughed Scout. "I was only teasing."

Daryl shook his head. "Yeah? And where's that bag you promised me at the diner?"

Scout raised her brows. "You know this guy?" she asked Emily, ignoring the first question.

Emily nodded once. "And old friend. A good friend."

The redhead tilted her head to one side, and she turned back to Daryl. "We haven't even gone on a date-"

"What?"

"Stop with the games, Scout," demanded Emily, shaking her head. "We're losing daylight. It's not safe to be out there." She looked at Daryl, and continued when he chanced a glance at her. "Where's the bag?"

With her hands on her hips, Scout shrugged toward the parked car. "Give a girl a ride," she bargained, "and then we'll talk."

As she moved away, Daryl grasped Emily's arm and dragged her forward, lowering his lips to her ear. "This is the girl you teamed up with?"

She refrained from rolling her eyes. "It was the end of the world, Dare," she muttered back, using the old nickname. "It's not like I could just choose who was on my Kickball team."

And with that, she made to move away, to follow Scout, but Daryl tugged on her arm once more. "You stay by me. Got it?"

"Got it," muttered Emily, and she followed him to the car.

"Let's go," said Daryl, "before I change my mind."

"You don't say a whole lot… Do you?"

The question pierced the uncomfortable silence. Scout sat in the passenger seat of the rundown blue car, Daryl in the driver's seat. Emily lounged in the backseat with a sleeping Merle. The blonde ran a hand over her face and through her hair, rolling out the stiffness in her shoulders.

"Nope," muttered Daryl.

Scout glanced back at Emily, offering her a grim smile. "Right," she said, addressing the two of them. "So… I'm Anna Turner, but all my friends call me Scout."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Daryl," he said. And he gestured to the two in the backseat. "My brother, Merle. And Emily James-"

"Grayson," said Emily automatically, swallowing back the lump in her throat as she thought of her husband. Had the infection spread through the war-zones? "Emily Grayson." And she twisted the band of gold around her finger once more.

Scout sighed. "Look," she continued, "about leaving at the diner, I had to get my friend to a hospital. You got people depending on you, you need to push on. And with Em gone, I had to do what I figured was best."

"Noah?"

Scout nodded. "My Dad's a Sheriff, so I was helping with what I could - scrounging supplies, helping people.

Daryl spoke next. "So… What happened?"

"He made me promise to get to the evacuation centre at Palm Meadow estates. He said he was pulling his deputies in and that he'd meet me there."

And with a quick glance in the rearview mirror at the two people he had left, Daryl bowed his head. "S'the best plan I heard all week," he said.