Disclaimer: A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.
Thank you Nicole137137 for sending me edits on this chapter! XOXO
She should have run the moment she heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. She should have already been hidden when the headlights blinded her as she stood in the middle of the road. She should have done a lot of things before that black car stopped in front of her and a man stepped out of the vehicle, but between her sprained ankle, adrenaline-high from escaping the walkers, and Daryl's promise that he would meet her on the road, Beth didn't move.
Daryl will come.
When the man approached her, balding head shining in the moonlight, smiling impishly and treating her as a wounded, wild animal, Beth's instincts had screamed to her to run! Run as far and as fast as her incapacitated ankle would allow. When his large, chapped hands grabbed her upper arm, she was relinquished from her stupor and began to struggle. She ripped at his hand, holding her firmly, while his other hand and the glistening tool he was holding stayed hidden in the shadows. She pushed and pulled, trying to get herself free of his bruising grip, losing her backpack in the process, screaming for Daryl at the top of her lungs.
In a stupid move, she turned her attention away from her attacker, desperately searching for Daryl. She felt a sudden prick to her neck, whipping her head back around in time to catch the man extracting a syringe. The already dark world went completely black around her. She could hear Daryl's reprimands; "Stupid girl. What the hell were ya' thinkin'? Lookin' for me when you got more m'portant things to worry 'bout." Followed by, "You got some dick tryin' t'get you 'n instead of worryin' 'bout yourself, you're lookin' 'round." While she wasn't sure her mental impersonation of Daryl quite did him justice, she was sure of one thing.
Daryl will come.
Beth awoke with a jolt. She felt a sensation she hadn't felt in quite some time, since before they had taken over the prison. She felt like she was floating. She could hear the hum of the engine, furthering her realization that she was in a vehicle. It was dark, still night time, but there were no windows; the stars hidden from her view.
Slowly tracing her fingers around her, heaving a sigh of relief that her hands and feet weren't bound, she felt a course, scratchy material around her; most likely carpet. She deduced that her attacker had placed her in the trunk. After feeling more comfortable in knowing where she was, she next took inventory of her person. Her neck hurt, she had a slight headache, and her ankle felt sore and stiff, but all were bearable. Having no other known injuries, she took stock of what she still had on her. Her clothes were intact, and she mentally thanked whatever God they had above for that, but her knife…Daryl's knife, was no longer in it's sheath attached to her belt.
Another jolt startled Beth as the vehicle drove over a pothole. She closed her eyes, listening intently past the dull hum of the car's engine. She could hear crackling beneath the tires. They were on a dirt road. Asphalt would have hummed similarly to that of the engine.
She had subconsciously learned the difference between asphalt and dirt roads when she had been learning to drive. The radio in the old farm truck hadn't worked, so all she had was the wind blowing through the cab and the tread of the tires on the road. Daryl would have been proud of her.
Shaking her messy hair, Beth wiped the bittersweet memories of before out of her head, and got back to her task at hand. She had to find a weapon. Something. Anything. She had no idea where she was being taken, but she knew that if whoever had taken her got her inside of where ever they were going, she would never come back out alive. She would eventualy be killed…or worse; come back as a walker.
Daryl had been teaching her how to track, how to use a crossbow, and she had drastically increased her endurance from the weeks they had been travelling non-stop. He had been instilling in her the qualities of a hunter; observe, develop a plan for the quickest, cleanest way to get the job done, and always be aware of your surroundings. That while she may be the hunter, she could still become prey if she focused too much on one thing and blocked out her environment. She repeated Daryl's advice like a mantra, mentally preparing herself for what would be the fight of her life.
Feeling the sides of the trunk, hoping to find a spare compartment for the jack, she felt a bitter taste in her mouth when the walls were solid. Taking a deep breath, she then felt beneath her prone form, thinking maybe the jack would be in the floorboard. To her relief, she found the plastic, twist knob that released part of the floor to the jack compartment underneath. Scooting back as far as her body would allow; she managed to awkwardly open the jack compartment.
A sob escaped her lips when there was no jack, no levers, no nothing in the empty space beneath her. She could use the lid. Throw it at the man's face when he opened the trunk and then she could run. The problem with that scenario was she wouldn't get very far, very fast with her ankle, and if the man had a gun he would likely shoot her before she could get herself to relative safety.
She tried to think of what Daryl would do in this situation. He had always been good at improvisation. He had told her once that, "Gotta' use what ya got. Ain't no more Wal-Marts or manufacturers gonna' make shit for ya' anymore. Gotta' learn to make due or you're gonna' get yer'self dead." Daryl would probably end this man. He would expect Beth to do the same, but she couldn't bring herself to the thought of killing anyone. Walkers were one thing, but a human being? A living, breathing, human being? It just wasn't in her nature. As it were, it came down to this stranger who had kidnapped her or her own life. She wasn't left with many options.
Having opened the jack compartment, she realized she had given herself enough room to squat down in the trunk. It would be easier to attack the man if she was crouched than trying to kick her way out of the trunk while lying down. She had a plan on how to get out of the trunk at least, but she still had no idea what she was going to do afterwards.
She grabbed at the sheath to Daryl's knife hoping for a bit of comfort. A small smile spread across her lips when a new plan flourished. Even not being physically with her, Daryl Dixon still had his ways of helping her. Feeling a bit more confident, having come up with what she considered a 'quick and clean' plan of action; Beth could only wait for the inevitable to happen.
As rays of sunshine filtered through the cracks of the trunk, her stomach plummeted. Even if she managed to escape this man, assuming he didn't have a gang waiting for him when he pulled up to their destination, she had been in the car's trunk for hours. This detestable excuse for a human being had been driving for hours. She didn't know if he was driving in circles, making it impossible to be followed, or if his place had been so far from the mortuary. She had no idea which direction to travel. She had no idea how she would even get her bearings, assuming she lived long enough to do so once she followed through with her plan. She had no idea how to get back to Daryl.
Daryl will come.
She wasn't sure how many times she had told herself that. Daryl wasn't a knight in shining armor, this wasn't some fairytale, and she was over being the damsel in distress. She had always felt so safe with Daryl. They had grieved together, in their own ways, and grown together after the prison fell. He was all she had in this world. While she hoped and prayed that Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carl, her sweet Judith, and everyone else had made it out alive. That they were out there roughing it just like her and Daryl, however, she had begun to accept the reality that maybe only she and Daryl had survived. They had been traveling for weeks and hadn't found anyone. Daryl was her everything now and while she wanted to believe that he would come, she knew the likelihood of that happening was slim. Daryl didn't have a vehicle. If the kidnapper was purposely driving in circles or to a far off location, Daryl wouldn't be able to track forever. He was a good…no. Daryl was a great man, but he was just that; a man. One man in the zombie apocalypse. Her words to him on the porch of the moonshiner's shack suddenly coursed through her.
"You can't depend on anybody for anything, right?"
She was on her own.
Daryl wasn't coming…
A/N: So after totally falling in love with the idea of Beth and Daryl becoming an item, but started reading fanfictions with their pairing. I was a bit upset to find that there weren't a whole lot that had Beth develop past her character in the episode 'Alone.' So I decided to remedy that.
This was originally a one-shot that turned into a six or seven chapter story (I'm currently writing the last chapter right now). If I receive enough of a response, I'll probably continue the story or consider writing a trilogy. Actually have the whole plot planned out in my head. Just depends on you guys and if this is a story you want to read more of! So please let me know!