Part Two: Too Far Gone

Chaos, that's the only word I could use to describe it. There was no plan for this type of attack. Our people were running around frantically, some trying to defend and hold off the Governor's army and others were just trying to get whoever they could to the bus. My eyes scanned the vicinity, I stood on the outskirts of the courtyard. The tank was just rolling up to the courtyard fences, the treads crushing the chain-link gates like an ant under someone's shoe. My body reacted to the sound of the tank shooting off another shell into the prison walls. The same walls that housed some of our people on the other side. I needed a weapon.

I could see Maggie and Beth huddled behind the bus, they were arguing before Maggie handed her gun to Beth and sprinted back to the prison entrance. My eyes then trailed to my left, Tyreese stood behind the barbeque under our dining tent as he shot at the enemy that took cover behind their tank. Sasha and Bob had their guns propped up on one of our trucks as they laid down cover fire for those filtering out of the prison and onto the bus. Then my eyes landed on Daryl, knelt down behind a propped-up picnic table.

I jumped out of my skin when the sound of the fence rattling behind me caught me off guard. I spun on my heels as a walker linked its mangled fingers into the holes in the fence. At least ten more trailed behind, a herd of them stumbling out of the forest as the noise from the gunfire drew them towards us.

"Daryl!" I shouted, finally moving my feet towards some cover. He didn't hear me at first, but I must have caught the corner of his eye from the speed I was running at him. He had his gun propped up on top of his shoulder, the barrel of it resting on the wood of the picnic table. He shifted his eyes towards me, a panicked expression flashing across his face as his gaze met mine.

"Scar--" he shouted. Before I could process that he was giving me a warning I felt a hard tug on the back of my tank top, the seams of my shirt ripping in two as I was yanked to the ground and onto my back. I coughed as the wind knocked out of my lungs, a dark figure standing over me and blocking the sun from my face. My vision finally focused when I realized I was staring up at the barrel of a gun. On instinct, I rolled to my left, only milliseconds before the bullet lodged into the pavement beside my head. The minute I looked up at the man Daryl's bullet entered his chest, a pool of blood seeping out through his shirt around the wound before he dropped to the floor.

I got back to my feet, finally taking cover behind the picnic table with Daryl. I panted heavily as I tried to suck in as much air as I could to regain my breath.

"The hell you go?" Daryl asked as he quickly took off his signature angel-winged biker's vest and handed it to me for some sort of a shirt.

"Does it matter? I'm here now," I said as I threw the vest over me, "Do you have another gun?"

Daryl reached over to his belt, pulling a Glock from its holder. He placed it in my hands before he reloaded his own weapon. I peeked through the space between the table and the bench, focusing my line of sight on those who took cover behind the tank as they continued to push forward. Every five minutes or so the tank would fire off another shell causing the ground to rumble and your instincts couldn't help but cause your body to quiver as the sound made your ears ring before the rubble of the prison walls blew out and disperse around you. I managed to take out two women who were ill-trained with a weapon before another explosion went off, each time making me lose my focus as I ducked my head for cover.

"We're too far out in the open, we need to get to the bus!" I shouted to Daryl, trying to make myself heard over the noise of the gunfire. I glanced over to where the bus sat on the opposite end of the courtyard, watching as Maggie carried a very ill Glenn into the vehicle. It looked as if the bus was nearly full at this point.

"Okay, come on," he responded. He got to both of his feet, darting out from behind the table as he remained low while rapid firing in the direction of the Governor's people. I followed close behind, repeating the same actions. We got to the dining tent where Tyreese previously held cover. Our water jug spilled out all the liquid as it had been punctured with multiple bullet holes.

The gunfire followed us, at least four or five men sending off rounds in our direction. The tables, plates, cups, and woodpiles splintered and shattered as the bullets flew around us. I was beginning to panic, my heart raced and my hands shook so hard that I was having a difficult time even trying to keep a hold on my weapon. I crouched behind a pile of cut-up wood, trying to regain my composure. I simply could not get a hold of myself. The gunfire continued to whiz by us, the sound of it becoming a repetitive racket, they would not let up. My mind began to drown out the noise as my body was slipping into a state of shock. My eyes darted back and forth, people that I knew dead on the pavement, walkers that had crept in beginning to feast on their bodies, large chunks of rubble scattered across the courtyard as multiple sections of the prison walls went up in flames, smoke and dust clouding the air and stinging my eyes. It was beginning to set in that we may not get out of here alive.

Just then Daryl grabbed me hard by the shoulders, drawing my attention so I would look at him, "We're gonna die," I spoke softly, my face emotionless like I was trying to process the fate of us myself.

"We don't die," he said firmly. His stare bore into mine, his eyes peeking through the wisps of brown hair that shield them. "Red, I can't get out of here without you. I need you to be you," he continued, attempting to snap me out of my state. I sucked in a deep breath, nodding my head.

We both spun back in the direction of the enemy, propping our guns up on top of the woodpile. I dialled myself back in, aiming for my target. With one shot, a man fell to his knees, the bullet hitting his heart. Second shot, the bullet grazed a man's shoulder, he dropped his gun as he threw his opposite hand over the wound. The third shot hit that very man's temple.

"Walkers!" I shouted to Daryl, the corner of my eye-catching a bright yellow t-shirt that had been ripped and stained with dirt. Three walkers came stumbling from up behind us. I swiftly pointed my gun at the closest walker, dropping it to the floor by my feet.

"We gotta make a run for it!" Daryl yelled back, realizing we were being closed in on from both angles. I looked over to see him pull a grenade out from his pocket. He brought the small, deadly weapon up to his mouth, yanking out the pin with his teeth before tossing the grenade over the tent. The grenade bounced on the ground, rolling up to their feet as they all dived out of the way of the blast.

Daryl and I both got to our feet, using the little time we had for the smoke from the explosion to clear to make our escape. It was like our feet moved in unison as we sprinted for the bus, for safety. We made it about halfway across the courtyard when I was knocked off of my feet. A shell from the tank whizzed right over our heads, hitting the bridged walkway above us. The force of it took my feet from under me, I was flung to my right, my shoulder and torso scraping up against the pavement before my back finally hit the wall. I couldn't hear a thing, but a loud ring that pounded against my eardrums. My head spun as my eyes dialled in and out of focus. Clouds of smoke hovered over me as pieces of the cement bridge crumbled to the ground and rolled on the floor.

I coughed, shouting out for Daryl, but I couldn't even hear my own voice. It was like I had a fishbowl over my head, every sound was a dull echo. I blinked away the dust from my eyes and propped myself up on my forearm, looking around at my surroundings with a dazed stare. The smoke began to rise, allowing me to see beyond a couple of feet in front of me. My eyes then landed on the bus, the ringing in my ears finally starting to subside. I could hear the engine of the bus rev before the wheels started turning. I watched as our people quickly drove away from us, leaving us behind.

"Can you walk?" Daryl's question drew my attention back to him. I slowly turned my head away from the retreating bus to see that he was knelt down beside me. Like me, his arm had a bad scrape up the side of it and his jeans had large rips in it where his knees bled.

"They left," I said, still in a state of shock.

"Come on, Red, we gotta go. We need to get out of here," he said, disregarding what I had told him. He placed my arm over his shoulder and helped me to my feet. I sucked in a painful breath as my bones already ached from my previous car crash adhesions.

Daryl and I walked out of there, following the direction the bus drove off in. Everything seemed quieter now, there was no more gunfire, no more explosions, and no more screaming. All you could hear was the crackling of the flames that burned down sections of the prison and the groans of the walkers that now invaded the ruins of this fight. I glanced over Daryl's shoulder as he continued to carry me out of there, looking back at once was our home. All the fencing laid flattened on the ground, large pools of blood stained the pavement that hadn't been covered in rubble, and the place had now been occupied by a herd of walkers that limped towards the thick flames bursting from each hole in the wall. My heart burned with sorrow when thinking about all of our people that didn't make it out. We were divided now. We had no idea who was dead or who was alive. And at this point, I don't think we'll ever figure out the answer to that question.