Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of it's characters. All I own here is the plot and the OFC :)
It was supposed to be a simple supply run. Nothing major. In and out. Formula, baby food and diapers for Judith. But it turned out to be anything but "simple".
Daryl stopped the motorcycle a few feet away from the wrecked car, allowing Cheyenne to hop off before swinging his leg over the bike himself, instantly reaching for his crossbow.
Taking note of the walker pinned between the two wrecked cars, Daryl edged forward cautiously. Alert to any and all danger that could be lurking about.
"Stay back," he ordered as Cheyenne followed, drawing her hunting knife from the sheath strapped securely at her hip.
Slowly, he approached the cars, firing a bolt into the hissing walker's rotting eye.
Stalking up to the twice-dead creature, Daryl yanked the bolt from it's head, carefully making his way around to the other side of the first vehicle a second later.
Another walker lay inside the car, pinned in place by the seat belt and the crumpled dash. It wasn't really a threat, so he left it to rot.
It was then that he heard the moan. Human, not that of a biter.
Daryl rushed to the passenger side of the mini-van, finding the door almost ripped off it's hinges.
A woman, pale and bleeding heavily, sat in the passenger seat, a huge chunk of metal impaling her torso.
"Please..." the woman begged, voice a mere whisper. "...my baby...Please...take care of my baby..."
Cheyenne was behind him by now, peering over his shoulder at the grisly scene.
Daryl quickly pried the sliding door open while Cheyenne tried to comfort the dying woman, listening patiently to her last requests.
Sure enough, there was a baby. A tiny pink bundle in a laundry basket that had been securely anchored to the back seat.
"Cheyenne," Daryl called her over, awkwardly picking the sleeping bundle up, trying to be as gentle as possible with the tiny human being. She was smaller than Judith, looking far more fragile, and it made him nervous.
The blonde was quickly leaning inside the door, taking the baby from him as he gladly handed it over to her.
"Is she alright?..." the dying woman whispered as Cheyenne came over to show her her baby was fine.
"Not a scratch on her," Cheyenne reassured, holding the bundle up for the woman to see.
"Thank God..." the woman murmured. "There's baby things in-in a backpack...it's in the back...there's...not much, though...Take it with you..."
"It's gonna be okay, ma'am..." Cheyenne tried to comfort her. "We'll take good care of your little one...Like she was our own."
"I-I don't want to do this..." the woman's breath hitched, rattling in her chest for a moment, then she continued. "You have no idea...how hard it is to just...trust total strangers with your baby...but..."
"It's alright," Cheyenne said in a soothing tone. "We understand."
"I'm glad you found us..." the woman was crying now, choking when a drop of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Please...tell her I loved her...Her name's Mary...Mine is...was...Sandy..."
"Of course. I promise," Cheyenne whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.
"One more thing..." Sandy murmured, taking in a ragged breath. "Don't...don't let me turn...please...Don't let me become one of...them..."
Cheyenne bowed her head as the woman's eyes closed, a long breath escaping her lips. She was gone.
Daryl appeared beside her as if on cue, silently drawing his buck knife and handing the backpack to Cheyenne.
Cheyenne moved away from the van to check out the contents of the backpack while he took care of the dead woman, proventing her from turning as she had requested.
"How're we gonna get a baby back to the prison on the bike?" Cheyenne asked when he had finished the deed, wiping his blade in the grass beside the road.
"Walk, I guess," he sighed, shrugging slightly and giving a small gesture across the road. "I can stash the bike 'hind those trees over yonder, it ain't that far back."
Cheyenne nodded, never once questioning his judgement. "Let's get goin' then."
He nodded in agreement, heading over to the motorcycle. He hated leaving it, but really, there wasn't much choice. Not with their new "problem" on hand.
As soon as the bike was stashed in the woods, they started walking. Cheyenne carrying the baby, Daryl shouldering the backpack of baby supplies and his crossbow.
After an hour or so of walking, Daryl quickly realized time was passing a lot faster than their legs could carry them.
"It's gonna be dark soon," the hunter noted, glancing up at the steadily setting sun. "We ain't gonna make it back 'fore nightfall."
"We can't stay out here," Cheyenne pointed out the obvious. "Not with a baby at least."
"There should be a little rest stop just through the trees that'a way," Daryl pointed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "If we can make it there before dark, we can stay in one of the motel rooms."
"Sounds like a plan," Cheyenne said, picking up her pace and falling into step alongside Daryl.
The rest stop was their best bet, so long as it wasn't overrun. They were not about to stay out in the open. If it had been just the two of them, they could have, but with a baby and the chance of it crying and attracting walkers, they needed the safety of a building.
The woods became gloomy as the sun finally sank behind the trees.