In The End | Daryl Dixon

I left the next morning without saying a word to anyone. Honestly, I didn't feel like explaining myself. I just needed to be alone—some space to think, clear my head.

Before heading out, I grabbed a map Eugene had been marking up with areas we'd already checked and spots we still needed to scout. I drove about fifty, maybe sixty miles until I found myself just outside of D.C. I knew better than to go into the city—if it was anything like Atlanta, it'd be a death sentence without backup.

That's when I came across this little mom-and-pop store—windows shattered, door barely hanging open. I reached for my sword and eased the door open just enough to slip inside. The place was dead quiet. I crept down one of the aisles, scanning the shelves. Most were picked clean. I let out a quiet sigh.

Then I heard it—the shuffle of footsteps.

I froze. Slowly peeked around the end of the aisle. One walker with its back to me.

I started to back away, but my foot knocked into a can. It clattered off the shelf with a loud metallic clang. The walker turned instantly, cloudy eyes locking onto me.

"Shit," I muttered, heart pounding as I started backing toward the exit—only to hear more snarls. Walkers were closing in from both ends of the aisle, surrounding me.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" Panic surged through me. I swung at the closest ones, taking down a few, but there were too many. I glanced up and made a split-second decision.

I grabbed the shelving unit and started to climb. One walker grabbed my boot, nearly yanking me down. I kicked at it again and again until it finally lost its grip and crashed into another behind it.

Scrambling to the top of the shelf, I steadied myself, breathing hard. From above, I spotted a back door—but it was across the store. I strapped my sword to my back and braced myself.

One deep breath—and I leapt to the next shelf, trying not to fall through. The walkers moaned below, reaching up with rotted hands. I jumped again. And again. Finally, I was far enough from the horde to make a break for the door.

I lunged toward it, slammed into it with my shoulder. Nothing.

"Please—please," I whispered. I looked back. The walkers were getting closer.

I hit it again. Still nothing. They were almost on me.

Third time, I threw everything I had into it. The door burst open. I stumbled through, turned, and slammed it shut just as the walkers slammed into the other side.

I turned around and found myself in an office. A man was slumped in a chair at a desk, rotted and gone. His face frozen in some long-forgotten fear. A photo of his family sat on the desk—dusty, but still visible.

There was no time to feel sorry. I spotted a window, climbed onto the desk, and slid it open. I pulled myself through, landing hard in a narrow alley behind the store.

I caught my breath and looked back. I knew I couldn't return empty-handed. If I did... someone back home wasn't going to make it..

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

After spending several hours scavenging, the only thing I had to show for it were a few DC shirts, and some smokes. Ones I knew Daryl liked...

I honked twice at the gate, just for it to be opened by a Savior. I sighed, my tongue pressed against my cheek in annoyance.

As soon as I got out of the car I was met with two Saviors. "Oh, I hope you have something to give us!" One of the men rubbed his hands together, as I grabbed my bag from the back seat.