[Daryl didn't expect to hit all of them, not really, but they could do a look-see first. He got the bike out of hiding and standing upright. Did a quick check of the engine for anything loose before throwing a leg over. Then pushed himself as far forward as he could get. The seat was big enough for two, but only barely. Even as close as he was to straddling the gas tank, there would still be a squeeze with practically no space between him and Jesus if the man wanted to keep the whole of his ass on the seat and not have half of it hanging off.]
We can look at all of 'em to make sure it's clear of walkers. Get an idea of what's easy to grab and what we might have to dig for. Ten minutes should do it if the dead ain't around. Then hit the priority.
[ Jesus knew it wasn't likely. There was still a casual optimism in it though, even just a verbal thing when it was far more likely they hit one or two before they had to loop back. And as for now, well: once Daryl was settled Jesus slung a leg over the bike to straddle it, essentially resting against him so that his ass doesn't just slide off the damn thing. Comfortable but not comfortable, so on and so forth. Once he's settled, he nodded. ]
Sounds good. Keep things simpler too. [ Less likely to get hit by any hiding dead, anyway. Then, another nod. ] Let's go.
[The bad thing about riding a loud ass motorcycle anywhere anymore was that it attracted the dead with the noise. The good thing about riding a loud ass motorcycle anywhere anymore was that it attracted the dead with the noise and once they got to their destination, Daryl could sit on it and rev the engine a couple times to try and draw out any hidden nasties.
He meandered through the parking lot with the bike, back and forth a couple times before pulling in front of the Pharmacy and shutting it down. Waited for Jesus to climb off and then another minute as he pulled out a cigarette and got it lit. Took a long drag.]
Think that should get 'em riled up, if any of 'em are still around. Let's see about that walk through.
[ Best case is there are only a few around. Worse is an overwhelming number and they have to abandon the idea entirely. (Once it hits double digits, I start running.) Jesus knows better than to hope for none around. Anyway, the sound of the engine will either flush out any stragglers or let them know in advance if they need to bail. Nothing's shambled out yet though and that's a good sign as he swings off the bike, waiting for Daryl to follow suit.
He's ready to act immediately if he has to but nods to what Daryl says, heading toward the pharmacy first off. Priority even for the walk through. ]
Those'll kill you, you know.
[ Mildly, with a hint of a smile that almost looks genuine though it's the most absurd thing to say and his eyebrows are slightly lofted.
[But unlike Carol who could suck down a pack a day when she was feeling it, Daryl rarely had more than a puff or two. He saved his cigarettes pretty meticulously because it wasn't guaranteed that they'd find more any time soon. After a second inhale, he swung his leg off his bike, took out the key, and bent over to carefully put the cigarette out on the ground. Just enough to get rid of the burning parts at the tip so he could save the rest of the stick.
Straightening up, he pulled his longest knife and followed Jesus to the first door. He reached out to take the handle and stood off to the side so he could yank it open and let the other man rush in to surprise any biters that might be shuffling about. That way Jesus wasn't stuck holding the door and trying to fight at the same time.]
[ Jesus didn't smoke - he'd flirted with the idea of it younger, but it never stuck. Perhaps a good thing, since they were so difficult to get hold of now. Maybe that's something they could grow: tobacco. Or weed, not his place to make that decision. Anyway. He watches Daryl complete this ritual of putting out the cigarette and sorting it out, nodding slightly. By the time the older man's hand is on the door handle Jesus has his own knife out in hand, grip comfortable even here.
There are no immediate threats but as he slips through the door there's a shuffle of movement further in that keeps him on alert. He gestures to Daryl that the immediate coast is clear before disappearing between two of the few aisles in the small place: half a walker - a crawler, really - trying to slowly pull its way toward him with its arms. ] Right.
[ It only takes a few seconds to stride forward and put it out of its misery. He flicks the gore off his knife after. ] Clear this side.
[Once Jesus was in and moving toward the source of the noise, Daryl swept inside and headed the other way. It smelled terrible, mostly of rot, and wasn't anything any of them weren't used to anymore. But as far as the open area in the front of the store, there weren't no more walkers about. As for behind the counter where the drugs were and the door to the back supply, well, that was another matter. Something had to have torn that walker Jesus took down in half.
Not something they needed to deal with immediately.]
This side's clear. Check the shelves for OTCs. Should be your side. I got hygiene.
[They weren't here to clear the place out. Yet. But checking to make sure it was worth coming back to once they got their sweep of the rest of the strip done was part of the plan.]
Got shampoo over here. Some of it might still be good. Soap, too.
[The shelves looked like they'd been gone through, but they weren't empty. Which was a huge blessing.]
This place might be worth bringing a truck out to.
[ He works quick, moving through and taking a visual inventory. ] Not much by first aid left, but there are a lot of things people wouldn't have thought. Saline eye drops can be repurposed. Some regular cough and cold stuff too.
[ When Jesus breathes out it sounds like a sigh - relief, maybe. At least it won't be a total wash either way. ] Definitely. There's more than we can take like this, anyway. [ As he speaks he's moving to the counter - the metal grating is pulled down tight over the windows but it'd only take him a number of seconds to work the locks open with his knife. He doesn't though, not yet. It's right they don't have to deal with it immediately, but it can't hurt to take a look. He doesn't let out a low whistle but if he were someone else, he might've. ]
Yeah. Definitely a truck. It's a mess back there but there are packages for days. No way anyone had time to take just medicine and leave the packages behind.
[ Much less pull the grate back down. Which is promising. Really, really promising. And also means there might be more than meets the eye lurking back there keeping people from going too deep into it. ]
[Daryl did a quick mental inventory of the samples they should grab when they came back through after the rest of the sweep. The backpack could hold only so much and most of it should go to medicines. But the rest, well... it wasn't everyday they got a good find like this. Worth the risk with a larger group.
As he started for the door, he passed the cashier's line and grabbed one of the mint tins. Then waited until Jesus was close to toss it to him before he pushed the glass door open with his back.]
[ It's a really good haul. Even with any looming danger behind the grate, with enough of them they can handle it and hell, it's all likely to be stuff they need. So really, he's in a good mood to start. He catches the tin easily, cocking a brow at it. ]
You trying to tell me something?
[ Ha ha ha. He opens it and pops one into his mouth anyway, offering the opened tin out to Daryl as he passes through the door to get outside, then pocketing it after. ]
Yeah. Pawn shop next.
[ This time it's Jesus that works the door open, a little deft work on the lock with his knife before he holds it open for Daryl to take point. Rotating jobs is helpful, anyway. ]
[Daryl took one of the mints for himself. He hadn't actually been trying to say anything. Just... mints kept better than gum and he figured the guy might like the treat. He doesn't say that, though. He instead makes a show of popping the one he'd snagged into his mouth as he followed Jesus out the door. All exaggerated motions for no reason than maybe it might get a smile off of him.
At the pawn shop, Daryl ducked inside, knife up and headed down the isles to the far side of the store. He hopped the counter and made his way to the back where the cage was. Still locked tight. Bolt cutters would have to be used to get anything out of there.]
Clear.
[He called when he was sure there weren't any lurkers waiting. Hell, there weren't any bodies period. It was like no one had come through the place in all this time. Sure there were electronics and shit that were pretty useless as is, but pawn shops took weapons in all the time, too. The knives if nothing else.]
Think we might have a gold mine here. This strip ain't on the beaten path, but between the pharmacy and this place, it don't look like more'n a few people tried to lay claim to nothing here.
[Which was really confusing given the literal two years that had gone by. But he also wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
'Law of averages', ain't that what Rick had said?]
[ He does know it's just a nice gesture. He appreciates it too, which is probably evident in the way he most certainly does smile at how patently ridiculous Daryl is about eating the damn mint.
The pawn shop is... Jesus keeps a lookout for anything that might pop up outside until Daryl calls the all-clear at which time he slips inside and lets the door shut behind him. He looks through shelves while Daryl's at the cage. Nothing too big right away but even--there are a couple toys hanging out and he pops open the backs of them looking for batteries.
There are two sets and he pockets them: better than nothing so long as they work, and they're not popped with corrosive acid so it's a good bet they might so long as they're not totally dry.
When Daryl speaks he looks over at him and nods before poking through a few more things. ]
You ever get paranoid because things seem to be going too well?
[ He knocks on a wooden knife block (empty) as he speaks. Knock on wood, etc. ]
[All the time. Daryl didn't have the means to open the cage just then, but as he made his way back along the counter, he pocketed a couple flip knives that looked useful enough.]
[ They probably should have brought bolt cutters. Next time. He's moving back through the aisles to get back toward the door as he speaks: at least they did bring their healthy senses of caution and paranoia. ]
Almost tempted to call it a day with these two, but I've always liked pressing my luck.
[Daryl shook his knife nervously, tapping his thigh with it. Then shook his head.]
Nah. No pressing luck. This is good enough. We get a few samples from here, from the pharmacy, and we go. Organize a group from both settlements to come clean it out together in a few days.
[His tone had gone terse and eyes darted toward the ceiling. There was a reason he'd asked about the helicopter. Jesus was right, this did seem too good to be true and the last time they had a haul like that had been back at the prison. Just before everything fell apart.]
[ As soon as he realizes it's Daryl being very serious about and cognizant of a possible threat something in him changes utterly. It's possible Daryl hasn't seen this side of him - if he has it isn't often - but his eyes filter sharp before he nods. ]
We'll move quick then head back.
[ And it really is quick - he grabs a few more things from the shelves, anything halfway useful that won't take up much room. Then he's jerking his head toward the door. ]
I'll fill the rest of the bag at the pharmacy. Get the bike ready and I'll be back out in three minutes. Holler if anything happens, I'll do the same.
[ Businesslike. Not worried or anxious, but tight. ]
[Daryl was grabbing a few more small knives he could shove in his pockets, a pair of collapsible binoculars, and a cigarette case before he jumped the counter again and started to cruise the shelves for anything else that was small and useful. His saddlebag couldn't care a lot, but three sets of walkie-talkies caught his eye and those were always good to have.]
Got it.
[He answered, hurrying out of the store on Jesus' heels, then jogging over to his bike. His head was up and his eyes alert for any danger. The place was still quiet, but he didn't want do be caught unawares.
He got his haul into his saddlebag, then glanced back at the pawn shop. It was unlocked now. If someone else managed to find this place in the next couple days before they could clear it out, they'd have a huge haul. He didn't like leaving it 'unguarded'. Easy access. After a glance toward the Pharmacy, he ran back to the shop and pulled the outer gate down. At least he could make it look like it was closed up tight.]
[ It's easy to slip out and over to the pharmacy, grabbing what he can from the shelves he can get to: hygiene items, OTC medications, a brief pause before he stuffs the rest of the bag full of packages of other hygiene items: tampons, pads, and so on - a big complaint from the women around Hilltop is a lack of them, he knows. When he sees them he grabs them.
He stops in the doorway before he leaves and considers the same thing. He can't lock the door again. Since there's a grate over the actual drug counter there's not one for the front doors, which is annoying.
He makes a split-second decision because one of the last things they need is for the dead to filter in aimlessly because the door swings open. One of the banks of shelves is loose so he carefully yanks it free. He might be small but he's stronger than he looks and it's not too difficult to drag it to cover the doorway. The scraping is kind of loud but if nothing was drawn by the bike earlier, well.
That done, he shut the door as well as he could and stepped back to where the bike had been left, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders. ]
[Daryl met him at the bike and slid on, turning the engine over. He scooted his butt as far forward as he could and waited only long enough for Jesus to swing in behind him and get a good grip on his waist before shooting them out of the lot and back up the road toward Hilltop.
About half-way there he noticed a reflection ahead of the, cresting over a couple hills in the distance. A car. Sunlight bouncing off it's windshield more than likely. That wasn't good. If it was one of the Savior's they'd have a problem. Daryl was still very much a wanted man.
He veered the bike off the road without saying anything and drove it into the woods that lined it. They were far enough out from where the car was that he could keep going and find an alternate route, or cut the engine and wait for them to pass.]
Car. About ten minutes out maybe. You wanna find another way back or play possum in the trees here for a bit?
[ Sliding onto the bike behind Daryl is easy, as is sitting so close and holding onto him to make sure he doesn't slide off. It makes it a little harder to watch the road in front of them but he can also glance behind them to make sure. All the same he notices the gleam in the distance not long after Daryl does so he doesn't have to ask why they turn off the road. He knows the stakes if it's the Saviors: when he squeezes onto Daryl a little harder it's instinctive and without thought; he doesn't even realize he's doing it.
When Daryl speaks his hold relaxes minutely and his answer comes immediately with a shake of his head. ]
You go further in and cut the engine. I'm going to see what's [ who's, more accurately ] coming by. Best to know what we're dealing with or hiding from.
[ His tone is firm but not quite sharp: still, it brokers no argument. He's perfectly ready to swing off the bike and dart off as he speaks. He's just giving it a second. ] If they're ten minutes out, then give me fifteen. Out to the road, wait for them, coming back in. I'll find you when I come back.
[ Jesus nods, taking the bag off and handing it off to Daryl. But he also stands there a moment and suddenly he's gripping Daryl's arm hard like a vise - not enough to hurt, but his fingertips press into Daryl's bicep and he looks at him, eyes steel. ]
I'm coming back. But if, if I don't come back in the time I said I would, you leave. You get out of here. I'll get back. Don't come after me.
[ He lingers like that a moment purposeful and sharp before he lets go. Then he's gone, darting off through the trees. With any luck his warning won't have to mean anything. ]
[Prick was gone before Daryl could protest it. Like hell he was leaving the fucker behind. If Jesus wasn't there when he said he would be, Daryl was going to hide the bike and go hunting. Ninja was good at hiding, but to a trained tracker, he left a trail easy enough to follow.
Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]
[ Jesus knows Daryl won't take to the order - because that's what it is, an order - well, but it is what it is. He reaches the road again with about a minute to spare before he needs to be, practically invisible in the shadowed woods. He's alert and attentive and when the car passes by he
slinks back further out of sight instinctively. He recognizes the people in the car - two men and a woman. All of them have been to Hilltop at least once. Saviors--they're driving slow enough he holds his breath like they can hear it, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then the car stops. He's invisible from the road, he knows he is, but his blood runs cold anyway. They're far enough away from him that when the woman gets out and looks at the edge of the road where it peters off into dirt he realizes that it's the tracks.
It's the fucking trail the bike left in their retreat.
Right. Okay. Well, they need to bail. So yeah, there might be some trampling. Jesus is quicker and quieter and knows where to go and now that Daryl is walking the bike it's less likely to leave discernible traces. He doesn't stop moving until he can see Daryl, see the bike. Fourteen minutes and forty-nine seconds. ]
Daryl.
[ It's a barely audible hiss and it's not clear where he is until he just is. Visible, whole, but worried and tight. ]
Daryl refrains from cursing aloud, but only to keep as much silence around them as he could. He doesn't stop walking the bike, either. But he knows they need to get back to the road so they could get out of there.]
Help me push.
[It was an order and Daryl jerked his head to the other side of the bike as he shrugged off the backpack. If he was going to drive, Jesus had to be the one wearing it. And as much as it was annoying passing it back and forth, he wasn't about to let someone else drive his bike if he didn't have to.]
We get to the road, we push the bike down the next hill, let it coast so there's no noise, and hope there's a turn off we can take to throw 'em off.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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We can look at all of 'em to make sure it's clear of walkers. Get an idea of what's easy to grab and what we might have to dig for. Ten minutes should do it if the dead ain't around. Then hit the priority.
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Sounds good. Keep things simpler too. [ Less likely to get hit by any hiding dead, anyway. Then, another nod. ] Let's go.
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He meandered through the parking lot with the bike, back and forth a couple times before pulling in front of the Pharmacy and shutting it down. Waited for Jesus to climb off and then another minute as he pulled out a cigarette and got it lit. Took a long drag.]
Think that should get 'em riled up, if any of 'em are still around. Let's see about that walk through.
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He's ready to act immediately if he has to but nods to what Daryl says, heading toward the pharmacy first off. Priority even for the walk through. ]
Those'll kill you, you know.
[ Mildly, with a hint of a smile that almost looks genuine though it's the most absurd thing to say and his eyebrows are slightly lofted.
Apocalypse humor. ]
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[But unlike Carol who could suck down a pack a day when she was feeling it, Daryl rarely had more than a puff or two. He saved his cigarettes pretty meticulously because it wasn't guaranteed that they'd find more any time soon. After a second inhale, he swung his leg off his bike, took out the key, and bent over to carefully put the cigarette out on the ground. Just enough to get rid of the burning parts at the tip so he could save the rest of the stick.
Straightening up, he pulled his longest knife and followed Jesus to the first door. He reached out to take the handle and stood off to the side so he could yank it open and let the other man rush in to surprise any biters that might be shuffling about. That way Jesus wasn't stuck holding the door and trying to fight at the same time.]
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[ Jesus didn't smoke - he'd flirted with the idea of it younger, but it never stuck. Perhaps a good thing, since they were so difficult to get hold of now. Maybe that's something they could grow: tobacco. Or weed, not his place to make that decision. Anyway. He watches Daryl complete this ritual of putting out the cigarette and sorting it out, nodding slightly. By the time the older man's hand is on the door handle Jesus has his own knife out in hand, grip comfortable even here.
There are no immediate threats but as he slips through the door there's a shuffle of movement further in that keeps him on alert. He gestures to Daryl that the immediate coast is clear before disappearing between two of the few aisles in the small place: half a walker - a crawler, really - trying to slowly pull its way toward him with its arms. ] Right.
[ It only takes a few seconds to stride forward and put it out of its misery. He flicks the gore off his knife after. ] Clear this side.
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Not something they needed to deal with immediately.]
This side's clear. Check the shelves for OTCs. Should be your side. I got hygiene.
[They weren't here to clear the place out. Yet. But checking to make sure it was worth coming back to once they got their sweep of the rest of the strip done was part of the plan.]
Got shampoo over here. Some of it might still be good. Soap, too.
[The shelves looked like they'd been gone through, but they weren't empty. Which was a huge blessing.]
This place might be worth bringing a truck out to.
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[ He works quick, moving through and taking a visual inventory. ] Not much by first aid left, but there are a lot of things people wouldn't have thought. Saline eye drops can be repurposed. Some regular cough and cold stuff too.
[ When Jesus breathes out it sounds like a sigh - relief, maybe. At least it won't be a total wash either way. ] Definitely. There's more than we can take like this, anyway. [ As he speaks he's moving to the counter - the metal grating is pulled down tight over the windows but it'd only take him a number of seconds to work the locks open with his knife. He doesn't though, not yet. It's right they don't have to deal with it immediately, but it can't hurt to take a look. He doesn't let out a low whistle but if he were someone else, he might've. ]
Yeah. Definitely a truck. It's a mess back there but there are packages for days. No way anyone had time to take just medicine and leave the packages behind.
[ Much less pull the grate back down. Which is promising. Really, really promising. And also means there might be more than meets the eye lurking back there keeping people from going too deep into it. ]
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As he started for the door, he passed the cashier's line and grabbed one of the mint tins. Then waited until Jesus was close to toss it to him before he pushed the glass door open with his back.]
Pawn shop next, right?
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You trying to tell me something?
[ Ha ha ha. He opens it and pops one into his mouth anyway, offering the opened tin out to Daryl as he passes through the door to get outside, then pocketing it after. ]
Yeah. Pawn shop next.
[ This time it's Jesus that works the door open, a little deft work on the lock with his knife before he holds it open for Daryl to take point. Rotating jobs is helpful, anyway. ]
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At the pawn shop, Daryl ducked inside, knife up and headed down the isles to the far side of the store. He hopped the counter and made his way to the back where the cage was. Still locked tight. Bolt cutters would have to be used to get anything out of there.]
Clear.
[He called when he was sure there weren't any lurkers waiting. Hell, there weren't any bodies period. It was like no one had come through the place in all this time. Sure there were electronics and shit that were pretty useless as is, but pawn shops took weapons in all the time, too. The knives if nothing else.]
Think we might have a gold mine here. This strip ain't on the beaten path, but between the pharmacy and this place, it don't look like more'n a few people tried to lay claim to nothing here.
[Which was really confusing given the literal two years that had gone by. But he also wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
'Law of averages', ain't that what Rick had said?]
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The pawn shop is... Jesus keeps a lookout for anything that might pop up outside until Daryl calls the all-clear at which time he slips inside and lets the door shut behind him. He looks through shelves while Daryl's at the cage. Nothing too big right away but even--there are a couple toys hanging out and he pops open the backs of them looking for batteries.
There are two sets and he pockets them: better than nothing so long as they work, and they're not popped with corrosive acid so it's a good bet they might so long as they're not totally dry.
When Daryl speaks he looks over at him and nods before poking through a few more things. ]
You ever get paranoid because things seem to be going too well?
[ He knocks on a wooden knife block (empty) as he speaks. Knock on wood, etc. ]
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You didn't see no helicopter on the roof did you?
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[ They probably should have brought bolt cutters. Next time. He's moving back through the aisles to get back toward the door as he speaks: at least they did bring their healthy senses of caution and paranoia. ]
Almost tempted to call it a day with these two, but I've always liked pressing my luck.
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Nah. No pressing luck. This is good enough. We get a few samples from here, from the pharmacy, and we go. Organize a group from both settlements to come clean it out together in a few days.
[His tone had gone terse and eyes darted toward the ceiling. There was a reason he'd asked about the helicopter. Jesus was right, this did seem too good to be true and the last time they had a haul like that had been back at the prison. Just before everything fell apart.]
Grab what you want. Let's go.
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We'll move quick then head back.
[ And it really is quick - he grabs a few more things from the shelves, anything halfway useful that won't take up much room. Then he's jerking his head toward the door. ]
I'll fill the rest of the bag at the pharmacy. Get the bike ready and I'll be back out in three minutes. Holler if anything happens, I'll do the same.
[ Businesslike. Not worried or anxious, but tight. ]
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Got it.
[He answered, hurrying out of the store on Jesus' heels, then jogging over to his bike. His head was up and his eyes alert for any danger. The place was still quiet, but he didn't want do be caught unawares.
He got his haul into his saddlebag, then glanced back at the pawn shop. It was unlocked now. If someone else managed to find this place in the next couple days before they could clear it out, they'd have a huge haul. He didn't like leaving it 'unguarded'. Easy access. After a glance toward the Pharmacy, he ran back to the shop and pulled the outer gate down. At least he could make it look like it was closed up tight.]
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He stops in the doorway before he leaves and considers the same thing. He can't lock the door again. Since there's a grate over the actual drug counter there's not one for the front doors, which is annoying.
He makes a split-second decision because one of the last things they need is for the dead to filter in aimlessly because the door swings open. One of the banks of shelves is loose so he carefully yanks it free. He might be small but he's stronger than he looks and it's not too difficult to drag it to cover the doorway. The scraping is kind of loud but if nothing was drawn by the bike earlier, well.
That done, he shut the door as well as he could and stepped back to where the bike had been left, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders. ]
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About half-way there he noticed a reflection ahead of the, cresting over a couple hills in the distance. A car. Sunlight bouncing off it's windshield more than likely. That wasn't good. If it was one of the Savior's they'd have a problem. Daryl was still very much a wanted man.
He veered the bike off the road without saying anything and drove it into the woods that lined it. They were far enough out from where the car was that he could keep going and find an alternate route, or cut the engine and wait for them to pass.]
Car. About ten minutes out maybe. You wanna find another way back or play possum in the trees here for a bit?
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When Daryl speaks his hold relaxes minutely and his answer comes immediately with a shake of his head. ]
You go further in and cut the engine. I'm going to see what's [ who's, more accurately ] coming by. Best to know what we're dealing with or hiding from.
[ His tone is firm but not quite sharp: still, it brokers no argument. He's perfectly ready to swing off the bike and dart off as he speaks. He's just giving it a second. ] If they're ten minutes out, then give me fifteen. Out to the road, wait for them, coming back in. I'll find you when I come back.
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Give me the bag.
[He held his arm out for it and met Jesus' gaze with a stern, but worried look.
Little shit better come back safe.]
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I'm coming back. But if, if I don't come back in the time I said I would, you leave. You get out of here. I'll get back. Don't come after me.
[ He lingers like that a moment purposeful and sharp before he lets go. Then he's gone, darting off through the trees. With any luck his warning won't have to mean anything. ]
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Daryl guided the bike through the trees for about three minutes and then cut the engine. The backpack got secured on his shoulders and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his nerves as he counted off the seconds. He didn't really need to manually count them. Life on the road between the farm and the prison had pretty much trained everyone on an internal clock without needing to look at a watch. But it gave him something to do that wasn't worry.
Three minutes became five. Five became ten. Then he started walking the bike out toward the street, keeping his ears open for any odd sounds. Like another engine or a couple people trampling through the woods to look for him.]
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slinks back further out of sight instinctively. He recognizes the people in the car - two men and a woman. All of them have been to Hilltop at least once. Saviors--they're driving slow enough he holds his breath like they can hear it, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then the car stops. He's invisible from the road, he knows he is, but his blood runs cold anyway. They're far enough away from him that when the woman gets out and looks at the edge of the road where it peters off into dirt he realizes that it's the tracks.
It's the fucking trail the bike left in their retreat.
Right. Okay. Well, they need to bail. So yeah, there might be some trampling. Jesus is quicker and quieter and knows where to go and now that Daryl is walking the bike it's less likely to leave discernible traces. He doesn't stop moving until he can see Daryl, see the bike. Fourteen minutes and forty-nine seconds. ]
Daryl.
[ It's a barely audible hiss and it's not clear where he is until he just is. Visible, whole, but worried and tight. ]
Saviors. Coming this way but slow.
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Daryl refrains from cursing aloud, but only to keep as much silence around them as he could. He doesn't stop walking the bike, either. But he knows they need to get back to the road so they could get out of there.]
Help me push.
[It was an order and Daryl jerked his head to the other side of the bike as he shrugged off the backpack. If he was going to drive, Jesus had to be the one wearing it. And as much as it was annoying passing it back and forth, he wasn't about to let someone else drive his bike if he didn't have to.]
We get to the road, we push the bike down the next hill, let it coast so there's no noise, and hope there's a turn off we can take to throw 'em off.
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shhhI love it, moves the plot along
8')
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