Double Crossbow (Daryl Dixon) [The Walking Dead]

Chapter 24 ↣ Can you at least say something?

"Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserves life."

— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of The Ring

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Daryl

"I HATE TO ask this," Rick said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Ask what?"

"We need to know just how much of a threat his group is." Looking away, I got what he was insinuating. "Look, it's just...it's just he hasn't talked with you at all."

"I get it. I'll find out what I can."

Rick let out a breath of relief. "Thank you."

I scoffed. "Whatever."

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I threw another punch.

Brendan turned to his side and spit out some blood. "I told you—"

"You ain't told me shit," I growled.

"I barely knew those guys. I met 'em on the road. Look, all I wanted was to find—"

"Your daughter. I know. I don't care about her. How many were there in your group?"

The guy narrowed his eyes at me, and I glared right back. My eyes almost flickered away as something about him seemed familiar. "Thirty guys. Give or take a few. Now, if you'd listen for two seconds—"

I took out my knife and slammed it into the floorboard next to his leg. Getting up in his face, I said lowly, "You're answering questions I didn't ask. Where are your guys at?"

"I don't know."

Did he really have to make this difficult on himself? With a quick flick of my wrist, I ripped the bandage off his leg. He hissed in pain.

"I don't fucking know. We were never in a place more than a night."

I pressed the tip of my knife to his healing wound. "Scouting? Planning on staying local?"

He narrowed his eyes once more. "Those pricks left me to be eaten alive. Do you really think they told me what their plans were?"

Glancing down at his leg, I replied with, "Did you ever pick off a scab?"

"I'm trying to play nice here. Which is rather hard, because I don't play well with others."

I froze and looked up at him. "What'd you say?"

He all but rolled his eyes and said, "I don't play well with others. I'm better off on my own, but the world has changed. Lone wolves don't survive long..." I held his gaze. I had heard those words before. "Okay, listen. These guys, they don't play nice either. They have weapons. Heavy stuff, automatics. I didn't do nothing but clean 'em."

"You was there cleaning guns when your boys shot at my boys, tried to take this farm. You just went along in case something needed cleaning? Are you trying to tell me you're innocent?"

"Yes!" Brendan snapped. "I'm just looking for Kathryn."

"Kathryn?"

"My daughter," he said exasperatedly. "These people took me in. Not just guys—a whole group of them. Men, women, kids...just like you people. I thought I would cover more ground with them. But, we'd go out and scavenge...just the men. One night we found this campsite. A man and his two daughters. Youngins. I guess they had appeal to the leaders."