Hand for a Hand

Alex's eyes locked on the dangling handcuffs, blood-streaked and empty.

No Merle.

Just his damn hand — severed clean at the wrist, discarded next to a dull hacksaw.

Daryl's breathing turned ragged, his jaw clenched so tight the veins in his neck bulged. His fingers moved fast, snapping off the safety on his crossbow. With a sudden pivot, he turned and leveled the weapon right at Alex's forehead.

Her eyes flicked from the dismembered hand to the arrow's steel tip. She didn't move — didn't breathe.

Rick reacted instantly. His pistol was drawn and pressed against Daryl's temple before anyone could blink.

"I won't hesitate," Rick growled, his voice like iron. "I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

Alex didn't flinch. She held Daryl's glare, meeting the pain behind his fury with a steely calm of her own.

T-Dog and Glenn froze, unsure whether to step in or stay clear.

Daryl's arms began to tremble, the grief rising up behind his rage. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. He blinked rapidly and slowly lowered the bow.

Alex exhaled shakily, unaware until then that she'd been holding her breath at all.

Daryl turned away, his voice gravelly. "You got a do-rag or somethin'?"

T-Dog, cautious, handed over an old cloth. Daryl snatched it without a word, stalking toward what was left of his brother.

Alex gave Rick a small, subtle nod — gratitude unspoken — and walked to the edge of the rooftop, pulling in slow, steady breaths.

"I guess the saw was too dull for the cuffs," Daryl muttered, inspecting the hand as he lifted it by the pinky. "Ain't that a bitch."

He wrapped it in the rag and stuffed it into Glenn's pack without asking. Glenn grimaced but didn't object. No one argued with Daryl when he had that look in his eyes.

"He must've used a tourniquet," Daryl continued. "Maybe his belt. Be a helluva lot more blood if he didn't."

They followed the trail — smears and splatters leading to a stairwell. Two walkers lay dead nearby.

"Still had enough in him to kill these two sumbitches," Daryl said, pausing to reload his crossbow. "One-handed."

Alex stepped carefully over the bodies, weapon raised. "Adrenaline can get you far... just not forever."

"Toughest bastard I ever met. Feed him nails, he'd crap bullets."

"No one's tougher than blood loss," Rick said, backing her.

The trail wound into a kitchen. Burners still burned on the stove, the air thick with the stench of seared flesh. A scorched iron sat on the counter — skin fused to the metal.

"He cauterized the stump," Rick said grimly.

"Told you. Nobody kills Merle but Merle."

Alex swallowed bile. The air was nauseating, thick with the smell of charred human.

"Don't take that on faith," Rick warned. "He's still bleeding."

"Didn't stop him bustin' out of this death trap."

They reached a broken window. The fire escape lay beyond.

"He's out there somewhere," Daryl muttered.

"What are his odds?" T-Dog asked.

"No worse than bein' handcuffed by you sorry pricks."

Alex closed her eyes, exhaling hard. "Christ."

Daryl turned to her, venom returning to his stare. "You couldn't kill him. That's what matters. I ain't worried about some dumb dead bastard."

"How about a thousand dumb dead bastards?" she shot back.

"Why don't you count 'em on your way out. I'm goin' after him."

Rick stepped in, blocking Daryl. "Wait."

"Get your hands off me! You can't stop me!"

"I don't blame you," Rick said, calm but firm. "He's your family. I get it. I went through hell for mine. But he's hurt, and he can't have gone far. We can help. We will help. But only if we stay level-headed."

Alex groaned, rubbing her temples. "Whatever."

T-Dog added, "Only if we get those guns first. Not strolling around Atlanta with good intentions, okay?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turns out, pizza delivery has its perks in the apocalypse.

Glenn laid out the plan: move through one alley to grab the guns, with Daryl and Alex covering him. Rick and T-Dog would wait on the far side — a fallback if Glenn couldn't make it back.

"Got some balls for a Chinaman," Daryl muttered, crouched beside Alex.

"I'm Korean."

"Whatever."

Glenn slipped into the alley and disappeared. Daryl and Alex ducked behind a dumpster, rifles ready. Close quarters. Too close for comfort.

"Big gun for a little girl," Daryl smirked, nodding to the sniper rifle on her back.

"All the better to shoot you with," she hissed back, eyes locked on the street.

Footsteps.

They sprang from cover, weapons raised. A skinny teen froze under their sights.

"Don't shoot! Please!"

Alex didn't speak — she kept her eyes on the street, watching for walkers. Daryl pressed closer, bow aimed at the kid's chest.

"Lookin' for my brother. You seen him? He's hurt bad."

"Ayúdame!"

Alex tensed. The kid's shouts could draw every corpse in the neighborhood.

"Shut him up," she barked.

Daryl obeyed — slamming his crossbow into the kid's face and pinning him to the ground. The kid kept screaming until Daryl slapped a hand over his mouth.

That's when it all went sideways.

A blur hit Alex from behind. She crashed to the pavement, head ringing. Before she could react, a second blow drove the air from her lungs.

She looked up — two men, yelling, fists flying. And Glenn — just arriving.

"That's it. That's the bag, vato! Take it!"

They grabbed Glenn before he could run. Alex reached for him — and that's when the pain struck.

A white-hot jolt tore through her hand.

Her eyes widened. Daryl had fired at the men — and his arrow had pierced her palm clean through.

She screamed and fell back, blood pouring from her hand.

Daryl fired again — hitting his target this time, right in the ass.

But it was too late. The men dragged Glenn away and vanished in a getaway car.

"COME BACK HERE, YOU SUMBITCHES!" Daryl howled.

Walkers were closing in now, drawn by the noise. Daryl slammed the alley fence shut.

Alex staggered to her feet, clutching her bleeding hand. Daryl went back to the kid, ready to beat answers out of him, just as Rick and T-Dog arrived.

"Whoa! Stop it!" Rick shouted, pulling Daryl away.

"I'll kick your nuts up into your throat!"

T-Dog slammed the kid into the wall. "Chill out!"

"They took Glenn!" Daryl shouted. "That little bastard and his friends!"

Alex, still cradling her wounded hand, backed toward the alley exit. "We're cut off. Let's move!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah, shit," Alex hissed.

T-Dog knelt in front of her, tying a makeshift tourniquet near the shaft of the arrow still lodged through her palm.

"Just hold still. Don't move."

Alex gritted her teeth. "Nice shot, Dixon. You missed."

"Did I?" Daryl said, arms crossed. "Hand for a hand."

She glared, biting back every insult in her vocabulary.

"You ready?" T-Dog asked.

"Just do it."

He tugged — too gently. The pain barely moved the arrow but made her flinch hard.

"Move." Daryl shoved T-Dog aside and grabbed Alex's hand.

She bit down on her scarf and gave a tight nod.

Daryl yanked.

Her head slammed against his shoulder as a muffled scream tore through her scarf. She stayed there, trembling, until her breathing evened out.

Then she lifted her head and met Daryl's eyes — a wordless mix of fury and gratitude.

T-Dog returned and began wrapping her hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kid gave in when Daryl hurled Merle's severed hand at him. Led them straight to an overgrown, sun-bleached brick building.

"You sure you're up for this?" Rick asked, glancing at Alex's hand.

"Yeah."

"Trigger finger still works," she smirked, nudging Daryl.

She and T-Dog climbed up a stairwell to gain higher ground. Daryl and Rick would approach from below.

Alex set up on the edge of the roof, ignoring the pain in her arm. She steadied her rifle and peered through the scope.

"Just breathe easy. Aim small," she murmured.

"Breathe easy. Aim small," T-Dog repeated beside her.

"Don't pull — squeeze — as you exhale."

Down below, Rick and Daryl met the gang outside the doors. Alex trained her sight on the leader's chest, then shifted — red dot now on his forehead.

"Come on," T-Dog whispered, watching the trade negotiation. "Make the damn trade..."

The gang brought out Glenn. Tied. Tape on his mouth.

"You got 'em, T?"

"I got 'em."

But the trade didn't happen.

The gang leader backed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rick made the call. He couldn't walk away.

"You sure about this?" Alex asked.

Rick nodded. "He saved our lives. I won't leave him."

"Fair enough," she sighed.

They re-entered the compound — guns drawn, tension thick.

Then an old woman appeared, interrupting the standoff with a desperate plea for asthma meds.

It flipped the whole situation on its head.

They weren't gangsters — not really. Just a group of young men protecting the elderly abandoned by the world.

Glenn had been helping the whole time.

Alex blinked in disbelief. This world is upside down.

Rick left them with some of the guns. He trusted them.

Alex didn't argue.

Not this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I get the feeling we just risked our lives for your damn hat," Alex muttered as they walked back.

Rick grinned under the brim. "Don't tell anyone."

"You gave away half the guns and ammo!" Daryl snapped.

"Not nearly half."

"For what? A bunch of geriatrics who won't last a week?"

Alex pushed past him. "Give it a rest, Dixon. How long do any of us have?"

She stopped cold.

"Shit."

Daryl stepped beside her.

"...Where the hell's our van?"

It was gone.

"Merle," she muttered.

Daryl's face darkened. "He's going back to camp."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No amount of training prepared Alex for the sprint back to camp.

Her lungs burned. Her legs screamed. Sweat poured down her face.

They reached the bluff just as gunfire rang out.

Screams.

Walkers had breached the camp.

Alex rushed into the chaos, shotgun blasting. When it ran dry, she used it as a bludgeon. Then her boots. Her fists.

They fought back the horde, barely.

Silence settled over the camp.

Then—

"Oh, Amy..."

Andrea was on the ground, clutching her dying sister.

Alex froze. Her stomach twisted. Her chest ached.

Amy gasped one final breath.

Andrea screamed.

Alex couldn't watch.

She lowered her gun and needed to walk away from it all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She made it to the quarry in the dark.

The cool water lapped at her legs as she stripped her vest, gear, and weapon.

She walked in, boots and all, until she was submerged — away from the world, from screams, from blood, from guilt.

The water surrounded her, and for a moment, there was peace.

Just Alex.

Just silence.

Just escape.