Chokehold

"Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease-bearin', motherless, poxy bastard!" Crossbow Man a.k.a. Daryl hissed, repeatedly kicking the now motionless walker who'd bitten a chunk out of our deer.

I stayed sitting on the floor of the woods, taking in the situation. There were more people than I'd seen in months - ten at least - gathering around the animal carcass. Slowly, their eyes began moving from Daryl to me, confusion and surprise etched upon their faces.

I rose to my feet, boots now firmly secured, while rearranging my long, wavy, brown mane back into its hair tie. I felt surprisingly nervous, which was unlike me. It was overwhelming being around this many actual, alive humans again.

Daryl span on his heel, following the eyes of his community as they stared at the blood-soaked woman that had arrived at the edge of their camp. It was almost like he'd forgotten I was behind him. Those ridiculously blue eyes catching mine for just a second, before he strode of the woods and toward the cluster of tents.

"Merle!" I heard him bellow, "Get ya ugly ass out here!"

An older man with a kind face and a ridiculous hat moved toward me, the gaggle of onlookers dissipating somewhat, most following Daryl in what looked like a heated discussion.

Only three people other than silly hat man remained: An olive-skinned guy in a sweaty blue shirt, who I assumed must be insane to be wearing long-sleeves in this heat; a slightly older lady with a shaved head and a blonde woman who looked very unimpressed by my arrival.

"Hello. I'm Dale." Funny hat man smiled, "Are you hurt?"

"It's biter blood... uh, walker blood." I replied. "I'm Ath-"

"What's your reason for being here?" spoke the other man - the insane, long-sleeved shirt wearing one.

"Your man was trying to steal my deer." I told him.

He eyed me suspiciously. "You with a group?"

"No." I said, honestly. "Just me."

I bit my lip, distracted by what was now becoming a feisty altercation involving Daryl, a cop still in uniform and a muscular African American guy with a shaved head. The man I had now nicknamed 'Sleeves' stopped eyeing me up and down to run toward the kerfuffle. The two women hot on his tail.

I looked back to hat man who observed me sympathetically. He motioned toward the RV, "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

I began following him, but my attention was diverted to Daryl, who was now in a chokehold courtesy of Sleeves. Without thinking, I waded into the situation, much to the bewildered glances of the onlookers.

Grabbing Sleeves by the arm, I wrenched him off Daryl and gave him my dirtiest look. He appeared astounded by the way I'd moved him, which made me feel very smug. I loved it when people underestimated me.

"Chokehold's illegal, asshole." Daryl snarled at Sleeves, not meeting my gaze.

I knew nothing about these people or the situation unfolding, but technically, I've known Daryl longer than the others, so I've decided that my loyalty lies with him. It definitely hasn't got anything to do with him having the most chiselled arms I've ever seen...

From the ramblings of those around me, I managed to gather that the guy in the cop uniform had handcuffed Daryl's brother to a roof somewhere and left him.

These people definitely had issues.

Nobody spoke to me directly, even Dale the hat man had now wandered away. I debated whether this was the moment for my swift exit. Everybody seemed focused on Daryl, The cop, the muscular man - who I'd heard someone call T-Dog - and a young Asian guy, who were piling into a truck, assumedly to go and retrieve what was left of Daryl's brother.

The cop caught my eye, beckoning me over. There goes my exit plan. I was hoping they'd all forgotten I was even here so I could slip away unnoticed.

"I saw how you handled yourself back there." He told me, "I'm Rick Grimes. I only found this group yesterday myself. We've a spare seat..."

A spare seat? To head off into the undead capital of Atlanta with a bunch of people I didn't know? No thanks.

I was about to decline, when Daryl's eyes caught mine from inside of the truck. He ducked his head as soon as he realised I was returning his gaze, but I saw it - the fear in his eyes. This man just had me pointing a gun at him in the woods, been told that what's probably the only family he has left has been abandoned on a rooftop and then put in a chokehold by a member of his own group. It made my heart sink a little.

"Athena." I finally told Rick. "You know he's probably dead already?"

Rick looked remorseful for a second before tipping his head toward the truck, reiterating his invitation.

Fuck it. I guess I'm going to Atlanta.

~

The car journey was awkward, to say the least. Daryl seethed in the front seat, glaring ferociously at both Rick and T-Dog at regular intervals. The Asian guy, Glenn, tried to dissolve the uncomfortable silence by making small talk. It did not work.

If I hadn't been in a car with four strange men I'd just met, I'd have snuck the opportunity for a nap. I'd only slept in short intervals the previous few nights, repeatedly being pulled out of slumber by recurring nightmares.

Oddly enough, it was my life before dead people started walking around taking chunks out of everyone that haunted my dreams, not after.

As we pulled into the city, I was unsurprised to see a plethora of biters. This was a hot spot for them. That's why the whole area had been unsuccessfully introduced to Napalm when the outbreak began.

The others were debating their plan. Would the first port of call be Daryl's brother or a bag of guns? I didn't care which order we proceeded in, so I stopped paying attention, opting instead to fiddle with the knife in my belt.

As we made our way through the streets and eventually to the top of a department store, Daryl frantically yelled for his brother.

"Merle! Merle! You up here!?"

T-Dog used bolt cutters to slice through the chain on the door. We all burst through it onto the roof. Daryl led the pack, stopping and reeling back as his brain registered what was on the floor in front of him.

A dismembered human hand.

"No!" Daryl roared, dropping to the floor beside the amputated extremity. "No! No!"

His distress was palpable as he paced between T-Dog and the bloody hacksaw on the ground, eventually raising his crossbow and aiming it at T-Dog's head.

Confused, I looked around the group. I thought it had been Rick who handcuffed his brother to the roof. Why was he so furious at T-Dog..? I guess there was more to this story than I'd managed to overhear.

Rick aimed his gun at Daryl now. "I will not hesitate." he warned. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

I felt sorry for Daryl. His day was going from awful to, well, much more awful. I didn't feel too hopeful about our chances of finding Merle alive.

Both men lowered their weapons as I noticed that Rick carried the same gun I did - a Glock 22. I knew they were a popular police issue, I'd actually taken mine from the body of a cop-walker I'd had the displeasure of running into.

Daryl fell back to his knees over Merle's hand. "Guess the, uh, saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs." He sighed, wrapping Merle's hand in a piece of cloth carefully and placing it in Glenn's pack. Something I'm sure Glenn was thrilled about.

Noticing a trail of blood leading toward the roof of a neighbouring building, Daryl began to follow it. The rest of us looked amongst each other, silently deciding to follow suit.

We followed Merle's trail for a while, trying to locate the new amputee, to no avail. We'd found a stove that was still burning, bits of skin attached to the metal, so it seemed as though he'd managed to cauterize his wound. We'd searched a few blocks surrounding the department store but there was no sign of him. Rick, Glenn and T-Dog were ready to call it quits.

"He's my brother!" Daryl reasoned with them, as they broke the news that the search was over.

"Daryl." Rick spoke calmly, attempting to place his arm around the crossbow-toter's shoulder.

"Get ya hands off me!" Daryl barked. "I ain't leavin' 'im!"

I'd had enough of being in the city. There were biters around every turn, and our mere presence here was idiotic. As the other three men sidled in the direction of our truck, I studied Daryl. His eyes were full of anguish, and his face twisted into a desperate scowl.

"I'll help you." I told him. Not quite being able to believe I was putting myself in such a risky position for a man I'd just met and his one-handed brother.

He caught my eye for just a moment, nodded slightly and turned, marching away from the others. I followed behind him, hoping he had some semblance of a plan.

"How are you going to get back!?" Glenn yelled over to us. Daryl ignored him out of anger. I ignored him because I really didn't have an answer...

A/N: I'd love to know what you think of the story so far!

What would you like to see in the rest of it?

Thanks for reading!