Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 50 - Scattered and Lost

"Those chains didn't break on their own. Someone took an axe or cutters to them."

Daryl had to trust... He had to trust that Amy could look after herself, and that she was hidden and safe somewhere in the prison. He had to trust that she wasn't bit... That she was okay.

The thing with Daryl was, he had a hard time trusting in things like that when it came to the clumsy and unpractised Amy Wilson.

But whilst Daryl was silently scratching at his stubble in silent frustration, Rick was furious. He stood between where Daryl paced and where Hershel and Beth were locked inside the entrance to another cell block, heavy breaths leaving his nostrils.

The amount of walkers had significantly thinned, after Daryl's slight rampage, leaving the men time to breathe, time to assess what they were to do.

Daryl ran a hand through his hair, brushing the tips of his fringe from his sweaty forehead impatiently. He wanted nothing more than to get back inside the prison and find those who were missing.

And that panicked moment, cruel and cold as it were, was dull with worry, slurred with the slump of hopes, with the news of death and the possibility of more.

The sudden loud, overbearing blare of an alarm over the heads of the men who stood in the centre of the courtyard drew a new kind of panic to Daryl's racing mind.

His pacing slowed to a stop, and with one hand still holding his weapon, the other still buried in his hair.

As Rick looked across to where the noises came from, Daryl dropped his hand and slammed it against his thigh with a frustrated yell.

"Aw..." He panted, storming across the courtyard towards the speaker, which at that point was emitting a loud siren-like sound. "You've gotta be kiddin' me!"

Walkers had already started towards the fence of the prison, slamming their fists against the metal chain. The sound of their sudden snarls sent Daryl reeling as he turned around in a slow, unsure, overwhelmed, circle.

"Daryl!" Rick yelled, catching his attention before quickly tossing him the keys for the second time that day. He turned away to the sounds of Rick and Glenn's gunshots, stuffing the keys into his back pocket with his free hand.

He, for once, had no idea what to do.

"Back off!" Rick shouted in the distance, as two more gunshots rattled the space around them. As Daryl's sharp eyes scanned the fence line, taking in the growing number of walkers pushing at the gate, the two prisoners caught his attention.

They stood by the front gate, faces pale and eyes, on Axel's part, wide.

Without any hesitation, Daryl simultaneously stormed towards them and reloaded his crossbow, eyes narrowed, chest heaving.

The two men stirred from their trance as the wild-eyed man moved for them, and they found themselves staring down the sight of his crossbow.

Daryl said nothing.

He had so many questions, so many demands for them, but he couldn't even form words as a result of his state. With every shaking breath that left his nostrils, he thought of it as another moment wasted as these alarms marked the prison for miles in every direction as a target.

And he said nothing.

Thankfully, Rick had finished his pointless crusade, as the effects of the bullets on the speakers were minimal to none. He only pushed past Glenn, who had edged up behind Daryl, and pointed the barrel of his gun straight at Oscar's shining head.