The Darkest Storm

The department building is nineteen stories tall with six identical faces, each presenting three rows of balconies with gleaming glass railings. Apartments sit above the first four floors that was the shopping center’s level. It is one of the five towers constructed that looks seemingly indistinguishable from one another, and if Glenn hadn’t been leading the way, it may have been awhile before they came across the right one.

Darcy Shaw enters the main level floor just behind the others, feeling the dense humid afternoon sweep over her in an instant. The glare from the sun emits a bright light against the steel surfaces that soon fade within the store. Without a source of steady light, the corners and shadows of the room appear to be more threatening than usual.

She draws in the scent of dust and decay, water pipes rusting due to the lack of care, and an odd smell of mold deep within the cracks of the once solid foundation of the infrastructure. If the world hadn’t gone to shit, it would have been a quiet and beautiful evening.

The foyer was empty minus the bodies that flung themselves up against the revolving doors of the entrance. The front and sides of the doors are all glass with steps of dark granite leading up to them framed in what used to be polished steel.

The granite in the stairs continues on the floor inside, leading them to the stairway across the room. The once golden light of the recessed lights in the ceiling now illuminates nothing, but shows cracked glass and broken bulbs that serve no purpose.

Daryl slams the doorway to the emergency stairs open. The elevator doors next to them are all open; call panels’ blank and no longer shining green but housing small spiders and the trapped meals inside their webs. Darcy shivers at the sudden realization that would hit her time and time again; nothing will ever be the same again.

Nineteen stories felt like hundreds to climb. Last fall Darcy had crossed a mountain massif with her mom’s side of the family. She remembers how the sun warmed her back and the stiff mountain grass whispered when she waded through it, as if there was a hidden kindness and awareness in the world that could only serve her out in the woods and fields.

She begs herself to think back on that day, now climbing dead concrete and metal and glass that can’t bring back any such happiness, but only remain deeply disgusted and heartbroken by the thought of the bodies that still linger outside these walls.

They reach the roof level with breaths constant and hands gripping the polished metal railing for composure. The padlock hangs limply without any intention of moving until T-Dog pries it open with Dale’s tools, unwrapping the chains that proved to secure Daryl’s brother from the hungry hands that outstretch from the other side…

…But it’s nothing like they are expecting. A stiff hand lying on the concrete cover of the roof holds the dead and silent stares of the five. Beside it, a splatter, and the dangling blood dripping handcuffs rightfully belonging to Rick. They tightly hold onto the bent and dented metal pipe weaving into the buildings core, just as they were left.

Daryl yells in protest, his cries echoing throughout the rooftops of Atlanta, not believing the sight in front of him. T-Dog watches him, his heartbeat increasing with each step the redneck takes and eventually the dark and deadly glare that Daryl aims towards him immediately after regaining most of his composure.

Darcy’s grip on her bow loosens as her heart breaks for this man and the pain he feels. But, at the same time, envies him for not witnessing the actual death as she did for her family. The wind loosely blows her long brown locks as she glances over at Rick, his face gone unnaturally pale while he stares at the unmoving hand.

T-Dog walks slowly around to the spot where Merle once sat, and the three others hesitantly follow. Daryl hears the soft tiptoes of their shoes as he huffs with sorrow and mixed anger. He lifts his crossbow in the same swift motion he once did with Darcy, only this time it is towards the face of the one responsible for his brother’s death – and that was something Darcy did not want to be a part of.

Rick cocks his python and aims it at Daryl’s temple showing no signs of budging from his position in the slightest. Darcy stares; keeping her bow at her side simply knowing it won’t do any good. All she hears is the deep breaths Daryl takes as Rick narrows his eyes and grits his teeth.

“I won’t hesitate. I don’t care if every walker in the city hears it.” Rick threatens.

All eyes are on the lone brother who slowly chews his lip in hesitation and weighs out his options, which are very few. Then, as if he expects her to do something, Daryl’s eyes blink towards Darcy’s frame.

Unresponsive, she stands still with her hands on a loaded arrow but not in the least bit tense. Her amber eyes are narrow from the setting sun just over the horizon and a few strands of hair blow gently over her features. A sudden wave of unexplained solace sweeps onto his shoulders and inside his chest.

Daryl lowers his bow with a sharp exhale and returns his attention to T-Dog. “You got a do-rag or som’in’?”

A light blue fabric is pulled from his own pocket and cautiously handed to the archer in front of him. Daryl takes it with an appreciative nod and rubs his nose as he walks up to the only physical remaining memory he has of his brother.

“I guess the saw-blade was too dull for the handcuffs.” Daryl sighs. “Ain’t that a bitch.” Darcy and the others watch as Daryl takes his brother’s hand and wraps it inside the torn cloth.

“He must of used a tourniquet – maybe his belt.” Daryl’s eyes trickle to the ground. “There’d be more blood if he didn’t.”

Darcy lifts up her right foot slightly to see if any sparge of blood managed to come this way. There is a path of the most intravenous drips that leads out in front of her, and she supposes since she’s stuck in the city for the time being searching for this man, she might as well get on with it so she can be on her way as quickly as possible.

Without another thought she marches past the group towards the opposite end of the building, feeling the hard concrete beneath her steps and the eyes of the others on her back. Darcy kicks the door open with her bow arched and stares down into the stairwell that winds deeper and deeper within the building, appearing to be seemingly endless but when it came down to it: empty.

With her back still pressing the door open she takes a step behind her and into the openness of the rooftop. She shields her eyes with one hand and impatiently whistles at the others before disappearing inside the structure completely. They soon follow, sucking themselves further into the building in a less-than-desperate hope that they come across the man without a hand.

-

Here they are again, stuck at another dead end. Darcy finds herself standing in a clump of strangers whom are arguing between guns, Merle, and giving up entirely. She crosses her arms and looks out the window behind her, blood splatter still covering the concrete ledge and a left behind white t-shirt that is ripped at its seams.

They’ve stopped at the kitchen, discovering small bits of charred flesh stuck to the steak iron Merle’s used to cauterize his stump. Now, the theories rest at either he’s made his way out of the city or he’s passed out in the streets from blood loss. Either or, their odds don’t seem to be in their favor in their hopes of finding him.

Darcy is about to swing her legs over the window ledge and onto the fire escape below when Rick tugs on her shoulder with an unyielding grasp. She glances at his hand and then to his gray-blue eyes waiting for his reasoning for stopping her efforts.

“You’re not going out there.” He shakes his head. “Not alone.”

Darcy turns back to the ledge and faces the streets of Atlanta. Only once in awhile would she visit the city, but she remembers how much she never wanted to be apart of such a place. People were always bustling by and acting as if there was no time to spare, hurrying either in their cars or on their own feet marching along the sidewalks. But today the black cinder streets are empty of those past times and instead show lost men and women with hunched shoulders and glazed eyed-stares.

“We need a plan.” Glenn says. He tilts his baseball cap up slightly and exposing the line of dirt formed on his forehead. “There should be more offices around here. I’ll draw up a blueprint of the buildings and we’ll go from there.”

Glenn walks past Daryl, slightly patting his shoulder as he does. Following him next was a hesitant T-Dog, then Rick. Darcy still peers over the ledge in silence running things over in her head.

Daryl waits as he watches her, holding his crossbow with one hand hanging limply at his side. “You comin’?” He asks expectantly.

“Yeah.” She drowns out, still in thought. Her eyebrows are compressed together when she faces him. “You think he’s made it out of the city? Will he head back to the Quarry?”

Daryl scoffs and takes her innocent question out of context, “Why? So’s you can get what ya need and leave now?”

Darcy tilts her head slightly and her eyes narrow at his sudden defensive stance. She walks over to him and places herself merely inches away from his frustrated glance.

She doesn’t say anything at first, but mostly takes in his anger and hidden worry among his features. There are circles starting to form under his eyes, wrinkles where he keeps his scrunched brow, and even an exhausted and desperate angst behind his strong jaw line.

Darcy holds his gaze; un-phased by the shot he takes. “Why would it matter to you why I’m here? I’m here, aren’t I?”

She notices a slight tenseness in his jaw and his eyes narrow a bit more than they were before. Darcy pushes past him and hears Daryl huff as he keeps his feet. “Be grateful we’re out risking our lives when we had the choice not to.”

Darcy disappears down the hall just a few feet in front of Daryl. Opened offices outline the way that are all broken into and papers scattered. Daryl doesn’t take notice since he’s watching the woman walk with ease with her bow lain across her back alongside her quiver. Her pistols hit her side with each step, the shallow sound of only but a few rounds left.
Daryl is intrigued as he tilts his head slightly as he keeps with her pace while still focusing on his eyes being narrowed to maintain a steady head. But her figure disappears again and he unknowingly picks up his feet to catch up. When he turns the corner his eyes land on her frame, already sitting atop an old office desk and swinging her feet casually whilst watching Glenn draw up a map.

Daryl stands away from her in a cautious curiosity, he feels almost certain it’s another way of his mind warning him against a different type of threat.

“If we go out there in a group, we’re slow, drawing attention. If I’m alone, I can move fast.” Glenn begins.

“Look,” Glenn brings their attention back to the floor, moving a black paper clamp to the middle of what was meant to be an intersection. “That’s the tank, five blocks from where we are now,” He moves a crumpled up piece of paper next to it, “That’s the bag of guns.” Glenn glances up at Rick as he points; “Here’s the alley I dragged you into when we first met. That’s where Daryl, Darcy and I will go.”

“Why us?” Daryl asks.

“Your bows are quieter than Rick’s gun, and you’re both quick.” Glenn responds, moving back to the plan. “While the two of them wait here in the alley, I run up the street, grab the bag.”

“You got us elsewhere?” Rick asks.

“You and T-Dog, right.” Glenn nods, moving a pink eraser. “You’ll be in this alley here.”

“Two blocks away? Why?” Rick asks.

“I may not be able to come back the same way. I need Daryl and Darcy back here because I’m planning on coming back the same way. If I don’t, if I get spotted, then being quiet won’t matter anymore. I won’t go back to them; I’ll go forward instead.” He points.

“All the way around to that alley where you guys are. Whichever direction I go, I’ve got you in both places to cover me.” Glenn sees Rick nod, “Afterwards, we’ll all meet back here.”

“Hey, kid, what’d you do before all this?” Darcy asks, her voice quiet up until now.

“Delivered pizzas.” Glenn blinks in question. “Why?”

Darcy lets out a small laugh smirked and hops to her feet whilst inspecting one of her arrows. “Alright. Let’s go.”
-

The red brick of the buildings stretches down the alley both ways. The reflection of light off the locked metal gate in front of them flickers for a soft second before Glenn pushes it open. The other two crouch behind the dented green dumpsters with half the paint scraped off and load their bows.

As the two hunters wait silently in the humid Georgia heat they each draw steady breaths and absentmindedly swipe the sweat from their foreheads. Daryl fingers the trigger of his bow and steals small flickering glances of Darcy next to him in a rather unsubtle way as if he was still trying to figure out her angle.

Darcy purses her lips as if to fight off a grin and adjusts her grip. “Something on my face?”

Daryl stiffens, blue eyes narrowing as he sharply turns back to his sight and ignoring her playful amber stare whilst bribing him with a teasing smile.

A pebble is suddenly knocked from the cobble beneath their feet down the alley. It startles them both and they both turn to stare at each other as if to make sure the other heard it, too.

Daryl raises his crossbow up by his shoulder and shifts his weight on his feet. Darcy holds his gaze and gives the man a terse nod when he slowly brings a finger up to his mouth, telling her to stay low and quiet.

He notices the anticipating emotions hidden beneath her amber hues as he slowly turns the corner to come face to face with whatever or whoever was behind it. But as it seems, the danger lingering behind them was none other than a defenseless boy meandering through the alley.

“Don’t shoot me!” The boy’s skin turns a shade paler than the snow on Christmas Day at the sight of an arrow pointed directly between his eyes. “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for my brother, he’s hurt real bad.” Daryl calls out behind his bow. “You seen him?”

The boy breathes sharply and looks over Daryl’s shoulder, “Ayudame!” Help.

Darcy immediately stands and makes her presence known, but not in the calming way to stop the boy from screaming. “I swear to God if you don’t shut up –“

“Ayuda-“ The boy’s reaction to Darcy’s arrow skimming his left shoulder quiets him slightly, holding the gash with his opposite hand and dropping to the ground on his knees. But he doesn’t need to call for help anymore anyways.

Three men had rushed into the alleyway just as Darcy pulled back her arrow to let fly. Two hands threw her roughly into the dumpster, which caused her to miss her shot, then proceeded to pull her by her collar and slam her into the brick wall.

She’s now pinned with her arms held tightly behind her back as she hopelessly stares at the other two men attacking Daryl with kicks to his stomach and hits with a baseball bat.

Darcy pries herself from the man’s grasp but quickly regains her trapped stature when he grabs a fistful of hair and pushes the side of her face further into the wall so forcefully she feels her cheekbone start to bruise.

Suddenly, the man with the baseball bat stops. He looks up past where she is pinned and points behind them. “That’s it! That’s the bag, Vato! Take it! Take it!”

Glenn. Her eyes widen but she can’t see him. The man holding her must have turned to look because Darcy instantly feels a relieved pressure from her scalp. Hoping that one class of defense training paid off, she takes her chance to break free.

Throwing her head backwards, Darcy’s skull comes into contact with the man’s nose. He falters, loosening his grip further so that she is able to face him. When she turns, she grabs his wrist and twists it so that he is forced to turn his body with the correlated motion. Then, Darcy kicks at his knee and drops the man to his knees before finally pushing past him and running over to Glenn who is now overcome with the other two men.

An arrow flies through the air but it’s not hers. Daryl has aimed to hit the man closest to taking the guns but ends up setting off a chain reaction. Someone grabs Glenn, another grabs Darcy.

A car is suddenly outside the fence. The men back up towards it while still facing Daryl threatening the ones they hold if he is to make any such move. The only good thing? They’ve dropped the guns. But that isn’t Daryl’s concern at the moment.

Both Glenn and Darcy are thrown into the back seat of the car now spinning off into the outskirts of the city with walkers hot on their trail.