Chapter 16 - Daryl

"Once we hit green, we go another twenty miles!" I shouted to Ella. The roar of the bike made my voice feel like it was lost in the wind, but I knew she'd hear me.

"Okay!" she shouted back, her voice just loud enough to carry over the wind and engine noise.

The thing about living in the apocalypse? It's the silence that gets to you. It's deafening. There's no hum of traffic, no background chatter from strangers, no casual noise of a world that's still alive. No radios blaring, no people laughing in the distance. There's just the growls and shuffles of walkers, the engine of our bike, and the constant pressure of survival. The quiet gets in your head, makes everything more... real. It's always too quiet, like everything is holding its breath.

So when the horn blared in the distance, slicing through that unnatural silence, I felt my stomach drop. Even with the sounds of the walkers snarling behind us, their growls rising and falling like the tide, we heard that horn clearly—cutting through the air like a warning.

The herd was massive, stretching two miles behind us, but we heard that damn horn above everything else.

Ella's body tensed against mine, and I could feel her stiffen as she heard it too. She didn't need to say anything. I could see the confusion and worry in her eyes, matching my own.

Abraham didn't waste time. He rolled his window down and pulled up beside us, his voice barely audible over the roar of our engines.

"What the hell is that?" Abraham yelled.

"I don't know!" Ella shouted back. She quickly unclipped the walkie from my belt and pressed the button to respond.

"Rick!" I shouted, grabbing the walkie from her. I kept my hand steady on the handlebars, focusing on the road ahead but feeling the weight of the moment settling in. Every inch of my body was on edge, waiting for an answer.

"I'm here," Rick's voice crackled over the static, breathless.

"What the hell is that? What's going on back there?" I asked, my grip tightening on the walkie, frustration starting to simmer in my chest.

"Half the herd broke off, they're headed for Alexandria," Rick's voice came back, sharp and urgent.

Abraham's voice came through, gruff and impatient. "They're coming towards you?"

"We ran ahead. There's a horn or something," Rick said. He sounded like he was running, his voice panicked. "It's coming from the east and it's not stopping."

"I'm gonna gas up and turn back!" I yelled, feeling a knot tighten in my gut. The worry in Ella's eyes was clear. I could feel her clutching onto me, her fingers buried deep in my jacket, her body pressed to mine. I could only think about the kids. What if they were in danger?

"We have it," Rick said. His tone softened, but the urgency was still there. "Keep going."

"They're gonna need our help!" I yelled again, my fingers gripping the walkie so tight it hurt.

"You've gotta keep the herd moving!" Rick's voice came back, a little sharper. "Focus, Daryl. Stay on course."

"Not if it's going down we don't!" I growled into the speaker, the words coming out ragged, frustration and fear spilling out. "My kids are back there!"

Rick's voice was firm, but there was a quiet understanding. "Daryl, if the rest of that herd turns around then the situation back there gets worse. Stay on course, keep the herd moving. You know this."

I wanted to fight it, wanted to turn back and go check on our kids, but I knew he was right. If we didn't get this herd under control, if we didn't keep them moving, Alexandria was going to be at risk.

"Daryl?" Rick's voice came through again, a little softer this time.

"Yeah, I heard you." I snapped, my voice harsh, but I didn't care. I clipped the walkie to my vest, ignoring the static buzzing in my ear. Ella's hands were still clutching my jacket, her knuckles white from the pressure. She was holding onto me like I was her lifeline, and I couldn't blame her. Hell, I felt the same way.

I didn't say anything to her at first. She didn't need me to tell her I was worried. She could feel it. She could feel my heart racing under her hands. I kept my eyes on the road, pushing the bike forward, not looking back.

"Keep it together, Daryl," I whispered to myself.

"Just keep going," I said, my voice low but firm. "We'll get through this."

Ella didn't respond right away, but I could feel her leaning closer, the warmth of her body pressing against me even tighter, as if she were trying to keep me grounded. I didn't look at her yet. I didn't need to. We both knew what the other was thinking. We were in this together, and for now, we couldn't afford to be anywhere else.

The sound of walkers still lurked behind us, but I didn't let myself look back. We had a job to do, and I couldn't let my mind wander. Not now. Not with so much on the line. Not with everything we loved hanging in the balance.

I kept my grip steady on the handlebars, my body tense, every nerve alert. We had to keep the herd moving, no matter what.

After twenty minutes, I slowed down a little, keeping pace with Abraham and Sasha. The worry gnawing at me was suffocating. My thoughts kept spinning. Were the kids okay? Was Ian scared? Was Ruby being taken care of? Every mile we drove was a mile further away from them, and I couldn't shake the dread building in my chest. What if that damn horn was someone back at the community signaling for us to come back? What if it was already too late?

"Hey!" I shouted over the roar of the engine. Abraham glanced over at me, squinting against the wind.

"We gone five miles out yet?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

"Give or take a few yards!" He yelled back, keeping an eye on me. I could see the concern flickering in his eyes, though he tried to hide it behind a cocky grin. "You asking for a reason?"

I nodded, my grip on the handlebars tightening, my fingers curling around Ella's hand as I glanced back at her. She was holding on, but I could feel the unease radiating off her, just like I felt it in my own gut. "Next intersection, we're turning around. We're going back."

Abraham shot me a glance, his expression unreadable. "The plan is to go another fifteen miles."

"Yeah?" I scoffed, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice. "Well, I'm changing that. Five's gonna have to work." I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs as the words left my mouth. Every instinct in me was screaming to turn back, to get back to the kids. But I had to keep it together, had to focus.

Sasha looked over at me, her face tense. "The magic number is twenty," she said, her voice calm but firm. "We need to get them far enough out so they're not just wandering back to us. You don't want to take chances with this herd."

"Yeah, well I'm not going another twenty," I shot back, the frustration clawing at me. "If five works, I'm taking it."

Sasha shook her head, but her eyes were steady, almost pleading. "You two want to go back, we can't stop you. But without you, they could stop us." Her words hit me harder than I expected. They weren't wrong. But my kids... they had to come first.

"Fuck!" I shouted, more to myself than anyone. We were getting too close. Too damn close to where we lived, to where my kids were. I looked up and saw the sign marking the entrance to the community—our home. The knot in my stomach tightened, and a rush of panic flooded my chest. My head was screaming at me, telling me I needed to get back, now. "Nah, I've got faith in you," I muttered, my voice hoarse.

I punched the throttle, feeling the bike surge forward, the roar of the engine filling my ears. The world around me blurred as I sped up the road. Ella's arms wrapped tighter around my waist instinctively, her grip almost desperate as we surged ahead. I could feel her body pressed against mine, but my mind was elsewhere—my focus was on the road ahead and the distance between me and my kids.

Sasha and Abraham shouted after us, but their voices faded, lost in the roar of the engine and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I couldn't hear them anymore. I couldn't hear anything except the relentless thrum of worry in my chest.

"Daryl!" Ella shouted, her voice cutting through the wind. Her hands gripped my chest harder, her body tense against my back. "We can't leave them!"

I shook my head, not wanting to hear it. She hit me—smacked my chest with everything she had. "Daryl, stop!" she screamed in my ear, but I didn't want to stop. I couldn't.

I punched the throttle harder, the bike picking up speed, pulling us even further from the others, but closer to what I needed to do.

Faster. I needed to go faster.

Her hands were still hitting me, her body shuddering against mine, but I couldn't hear her. I couldn't hear anything over the pounding in my head—the thoughts of Ian, of Ruby, of them being in danger, of them needing us. I had to get back.

I leaned into the next turn, keeping my focus on the road, on the way back to the kids. The rest of the world didn't matter right now. The herd didn't matter. Alexandria didn't matter. All that mattered was getting back to them, getting back to my family.

We needed to go faster. And we needed to go now.

We had been driving for no more than five minutes when the walkie crackled against my shoulder.

"Glenn," Rick's voice came through the static, sharp and clear. "I'm in place by my best guess. You guys make it back yet?"

The silence that followed Rick's call felt like a heavy weight pressing down on me, suffocating the air between us.

"Glenn?" Rick's voice again, this time tinged with more urgency.

Still, nothing.

"Tobin? You there?" Rick asked, his tone rising, the tension bleeding into his words.

Ella's fingers dug into my side, her grip tightening with every unanswered call. I felt her worry start to seep into me, her anxiety bouncing off mine.

"Daryl?" Rick's voice finally cut through the silence, a lifeline tossed my way.

I pressed the button on the walkie, my fingers trembling slightly. "I'm here."

"Won't be long now," Rick continued, his voice calm but sharp, cutting through the static. "They're almost here. I'll get 'em going your way again. I'm at the RV on Redding."

I could feel Ella shaking her head behind me, the frustration and fear written across her face. She smacked my chest again, urging me to listen.

"You hear that, Daryl?" Sasha's sarcastic voice crackled over the walkie. "He's coming our way."

I could hear the gunfire in the distance, muffled through the radio but still unmistakable. The sounds of the world falling apart back home. My gut twisted tighter, but I forced myself to stay focused on the road ahead.

"There's gunfire coming from back home," Rick's voice broke through the static again, sharp with command. "We have to sit with it. Let them handle it. I think they can."

I clenched my jaw as the weight of his words sank in. I could feel Ella's grip tightening again. She was scared. I could tell. Hell, I was scared too. The air between us felt suffocating, and my mind kept screaming at me to turn back, to get to the kids.

"They have to," Rick continued, his voice calm but firm. "We keep going forward for them. We can't turn back because we're afraid."

"We ain't afraid," Abraham's voice barked through the walkie, low and rough.

"This is for them," Rick shot back, the finality in his tone making it impossible to ignore. "Going back now before this is done, that would be for us. The herd has to be almost here."

I shook my head, my eyes narrowing as I fought the urge to just turn around. Ella's hands were clutching at my shirt now, her knuckles white with the pressure. She was shaking, her breath quickening in my ear as she leaned into my back.

"We have to go back," she screamed into my ear, her voice raw with emotion.

"I know," I muttered, my throat tight. I couldn't help but feel her fear burning through me, making it harder to breathe.

Rick pressed the button again, but this time, there was nothing but the sound of chaos on the other end. Gunshots, frantic voices, the crackling of the radio.

"Rick?" Ella's voice cracked as she reached over, taking the walkie from my shoulder. More shots rang out, loud and jarring through the speakers.

"Rick?!" She shouted, panic slipping into her voice as she tapped my shoulder. Her arms wrapped tight around my waist, her fingers digging into my sides. "Pull over!" she urged, her voice shaking.

I didn't need to hear any more. I nodded, the weight of the situation pushing me forward. Without another word, I swerved the bike to the side of the road. The engine sputtered as I came to a halt, the vibrations of the bike rattling through us.

I snatched the walkie from Ella's hand, calling Rick's name.

"Fuck!" I muttered, my voice raw as I slammed the walkie back onto my vest, the silence from the other side eating at me. I grabbed Ella's arms, pulling them around me, and turned the bike back around.

Her grip on me finally loosened as we started heading back toward Sasha and Abraham. But my mind was still reeling. My heart was still pounding, the fear gnawing at me. What if the kids were in trouble? What if we were too late? Every second counted.

It only took a few minutes to catch up to them. I pulled in front of their car, staying steady on the bike. My eyes scanned the herd behind us, making sure they stayed on track. The plan wasn't over, not yet. We still had a job to do.

But as we rode, the tension in my chest didn't ease. I kept my focus on the road ahead, one hand gripping the handlebars, the other resting on Ella's hand as we moved forward.

Every part of me wanted to turn back, but Rick was right. We couldn't. The herd had to be led away, and we were the ones who had to do it. We were the ones who had to keep going. For them. For our kids. For Alexandria.

It took us about two hours, but the end was finally in sight. The nightmare was almost over. We had made it twenty miles out, and the herd was starting to fall behind. As we crested the third hill, I finally allowed myself to breathe without the overwhelming stench of death creeping into my lungs.

"Alright," Sasha's voice crackled through the walkie, breaking the stillness that had settled around us.

"That's twenty?" I asked into the speaker, my voice edged with both exhaustion and relief.

"It will be," Sasha replied, her voice calm but strained. "Mile marker Six Forty-Two is just up ahead. We gotta put more distance between us and them before the turnoff."

I glanced over at Ella, her arms still wrapped around me, holding on tight. Her cheek was pressed against my shoulder blades, her breath warm against my skin. I could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong, as we continued pushing forward.

"So floor it," Abraham's voice came through, a mix of eagerness and impatience.

"Try to keep up," I smirked, my grip tightening on the handlebars as I felt the weight of Ella's arms around me. The sound of the bike's engine was almost soothing in its familiarity, a sound that meant we were still moving, still alive.

Sasha chuckled over the walkie. "Daryl, have you seen this car? Believe me, we want to get home too."

I chuckled to myself, the tension of the past hours finally starting to loosen. My hand reached down to pat Ella's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I could feel the pulse of her fingers in mine, grounding me.

With a quick twist of the throttle, I shot forward, the bike responding with a roar beneath us. The speed was exhilarating, the wind whipping past us as I pushed us faster. We were in the home stretch now.

As we neared the turn, I could feel the weight of the journey lighten. The long stretch of riding at five miles an hour for twenty miles had dragged on, but now we were picking up speed. Twenty miles at sixty miles an hour? That was going to take a fraction of the time.

"Hold on tight," I muttered, giving her a quick glance over my shoulder. Her arms tightened around me instinctively, and I couldn't help but smile despite the chaos that had followed us every step of the way.

The bike was humming along, the town of Alexandria within reach, when the gunshots rang out. We had barely enough time to react. A bullet slammed into the handlebar, the impact jolting the bike violently to the side. Before I could grab hold of it, Ella and I were sent flying through the air, crashing onto the asphalt with a sickening thud.

The screech of tires and the sound of bullets spraying through the air echoed in my ears. I was too disoriented to think, but I heard Ella cry out, the sound sharp and pained as we slid across the road. Her shirt rode up as she hit the ground, and I could see the road rash tearing into her pale skin. It was brutal—raw and red, the road itself eating into her flesh.

I tried to cover my head, staying low for a moment, but when I looked up, I saw Sasha and Abraham still driving, their car fading into the distance as the gunfire continued. Panic surged in me.

"Fuck! Ella, c'mon baby!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet, my heart racing. I turned, trying to right the bike, but Ella wasn't moving. Her body was twisted awkwardly on the road, writhing in pain as she clutched at her ribs.

I couldn't waste another second. "Ella!" I called out, rushing to her side. Her skin was scraped up and raw, covered in patches of torn flesh where her ribs and thighs had scraped the pavement. Her jeans were ripped open, exposing the ugly scratches beneath. The blood was already pooling on the ground, staining the asphalt. I gritted my teeth, lifting her as gently as I could. "C'mon, we gotta go! I know it hurts, but we don't have time!"

Ella didn't protest as I pulled her up and swung her onto the back of the bike. The pain in her eyes was almost unbearable to watch. She barely had a chance to sit properly before the sound of two more cars racing toward us reached my ears.

"Pull your gun!" I shouted, urgency in my voice.

She pulled her pistol from the holster with a shaky hand, her fingers trembling from the pain, and started aiming at the cars behind us, but it wasn't enough. The two jeeps were still on our tail, gaining ground. I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat as I sped up, racing ahead.

The bike's engine roared in my ears, the sound a relentless reminder of what was at stake. Sasha and Abraham were ahead of us, but they couldn't stop. They were still firing, trying to hold back the growing threat.

Once I got a mile away from the town, the road opened up, and I pulled off to the side into the trees, desperate to hide from the jeeps. The brush around us was thick, and I hoped it would provide some cover, just enough time to regroup.

I twisted in the seat to look at Ella. Her face was pale, sweat glistening on her forehead, her body sagging from the pain. Her shirt was covered in blood, and the sight made my stomach twist with guilt.

"You alright?" I asked, my voice rough.

Her eyes met mine, but her lips pressed into a tight line. "You'll be lucky to ever get me back on this goddamn death trap, Daryl Dixon," she spat, her breath shallow from the pain. She lifted her shirt, revealing the road rash that covered her ribs, her skin raw and blistering. The blood had already started to seep through. "How bad?"

"About as bad as you'd think," I said, my voice tight. "Remind me to get you a leather jacket."

Ella didn't answer right away. She took a deep breath, the pain evident in her eyes, then looked down at her bow, which had been knocked out of place in the crash. The string was thankfully in tact, but the wood was splintered in places. "Remind me to kick your fucking ass when we get home," she growled.

I narrowed my eyes. "I wasn't the one shootin' us up, darlin'," I said, my voice clipped.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, frustration thick in her voice. "I'm just pissed off and in pain."

I pressed my finger to my lips, signaling her to be quiet as we both watched the jeep drive past. I could feel the weight of the moment, the tension in the air. The adrenaline had started to wear off, and my body was beginning to ache in ways I hadn't felt before. Every bruise, every scrape was now making its presence known.

I fired the bike back up, taking a moment to steady myself before pushing forward again. My muscles screamed in protest as I twisted the throttle and we rolled back onto the road. I glanced over at Ella, her arms wrapped tightly around me, her breath ragged in the silence between us.

We didn't speak as I navigated the rough terrain. The ground under the tires was uneven, the dirt path littered with ash and soot. I swerved a little as the bike struggled to stay steady, and I could feel my body protesting every movement, but I couldn't stop. Not now.

Ella's voice finally broke the silence, shaky and soft. "Stop the bike."

I didn't hesitate. I pulled over, the bike coming to a sudden halt. Ella slid off the back, her legs buckling beneath her as she collapsed onto the dirt. I followed suit, the bike falling to the ground as I sank beside her, my own body aching from the crash.

We were both breathing heavily, both in pain, but we were still alive. We hadn't lost each other.

I reached out, gently pulling her into my arms. We were both battered and bruised, but as we sat there in the dirt, surrounded by the quiet of the woods, it felt like we were still holding on.

"Daryl," Ella whimpered, her voice tinged with pain. "It really hurts."

I grunted as I sat up, my body protesting with every movement. The impact from the crash was still fresh, but the leather jacket had protected me from most of the worst of it. I could feel bruises forming beneath the leather, but the worst injury was a bleeding cut along my hairline where I'd hit the ground.

"Here, let me see," I groaned, turning towards Ella. She was struggling to sit up, wincing with each movement, but finally, she lifted her shirt. The sight of her skin, raw and scraped, made a knot form in my stomach. She winced again as she moved, her arms trembling from the pain. I leaned closer, assessing the damage carefully.

She'd been right—it could've been worse. But it wasn't pretty. There were deep abrasions along her ribs and side, patches of skin scraped away, oozing blood. The sight made me want to shout in frustration, but I kept my voice steady as I stood. My muscles were stiff and sore, but I managed to prop the bike up with a grunt.

"It ain't the worst I've seen," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, but the worry still leaked through.

"Well, guess I should be grateful then," Ella grunted, pushing herself to her feet. I kept my hands close, ready to steady her, but she waved me off, stretching out her sore limbs before rolling her neck. She walked over to my side, her steps slow but steady.

"How's the bike?" she asked, her voice strained.

"It ain't lookin' too hot," I wheezed. I reached for the side of the bike, pulling out the small messenger bag I kept strapped there. As I fumbled with it, a horrible sound reached my ears—blood dripping. I looked down, and sure enough, the blood was dripping from my left hand. My fingerless leather glove was soaked with it.

"Shit, baby," Ella gasped, her eyes widening. "You're bleeding."

"I'm fine," I winced as she grabbed my hand, pulling it closer to her.

"Fuck off, Daryl," she whispered, her voice sharp with frustration and care. "No, you're not."

She peeled off my glove, and I bit my lip to hold back a groan. The fabric had stuck to my skin, pulling at the open cut. She moved quickly, pulling my jacket off with practiced ease. When she reached my elbow, her eyes darkened with concern. The skin on my elbow was torn wide open, the wound still oozing blood.

Before I could say anything, I pulled the walkie from my belt, pressing it to my mouth. "Sasha? Abraham? You there?" I called out, glancing at Ella. We waited, but there was no response. Just silence.

"I don't like this," I muttered, scanning the area around us. We didn't have time to patch up just yet—something was moving through the forest, the sound of twigs snapping underfoot and leaves rustling softly. My instincts kicked in.

Ella moved silently at my side, her movements fluid and sharp. She pulled her bow from her back, nocking an arrow with a quiet precision I admired. I followed suit, pulling my crossbow from its holder on the back of the bike, loading a bolt with a practiced hand. We didn't speak—there was no need. We'd done this too many times before.

Ella crouched low, pulling some burnt branches over the bike to help camouflage it as I pulled the messenger bag over my head and started creeping forward. Ella was close behind me, her bow still drawn, her eyes scanning the trees. The tension between us was palpable, but we both knew what needed to be done.

As we drew closer to the noise, I felt my pulse quicken. My hand tightened on the crossbow, and I motioned for Ella to slow down. We reached a clearing and peered around a cluster of trees. Two women stood in front of us, hands raised in a clear gesture of surrender.

"You found us, okay?" The woman with dark hair said, her voice shaky but calm.

Both women were covered in grime and sweat, their clothes torn and barely hanging on. The taller one had brown, greasy hair tied back in a ponytail, while the other was shorter, her blonde hair cropped short and messy. They both looked thin, clearly underfed and struggling to survive.

"Here we are," the dark-haired woman repeated, a defensive edge to her voice. "We earned what we took."

Ella and I didn't lower our weapons. We kept our eyes trained on the women, our fingers resting lightly on the triggers. There was no way we were letting our guard down, not with everything that had happened.

Just as I was about to speak, a loud crack of branches caught my attention, and I turned around quickly, only to be blindsided by a man slamming into me. My vision went dark as the world around me tilted and spun. The last thing I heard was Ella's voice, shouting my name, but it was already fading away as I lost consciousness.