━━━━━━ CHAPTER TWELVE ━━━━━━
Blame It On The Sense of Hearing
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          SHE WAS BACK IN FRONT OF THOSE EMPTY SILOS, in the back of the abandoned barn, arms empty. Standing there alone, she looked down perplexed at the thin hospital gown covering her body the best it could. A stubbornly pitched ringing persisted over her hearing, increasing ever so slightly as soon as she attempted to raise her sight. Looking ahead through spotted blurs, the same silhouette at the margin of the forest started to focus in for her.

Unlike that ghostly presence whose stable stilness struck Mallory aware of how cold she really was, the surroundings were but a flicker away from changing. Like a half unscrewed lightbulb, the luminescence of the field dimmed itself in flashes to almost look like a hospital corridor, should she squint instead of blink.

Sound came out — it sounded like her voice, though her lips didn't move in the slightest. "Matt?"

A hand grasped her arm and rocked her whole perception with an earthquake-like tremor, just to get her to turn around. An overlapping choir of a familiar voice calling her name in a crescendo met her, right before she distinguished the surroundings have settled on the hospital corridor. Mallory looked right in Dr. Densmore's eyes and though the urge within her chest was to turn around and stare at that ghostly silhouette instead, she couldn't help but wait for Dr. Densmore's moving lips to synchronize with the sound of her calling her name.

The synchronization didn't happen and the sight was horrifying due to it.

As she was watching, intently terrified, a car honk blasted out of the doctor's mouth and crumbled the whole charade of Mallory's all too frequent 'dream'. Her dizziness carried over to reality, as she had been sharply awakened by an absolutely unbearable ear pain. That car honk was real. Her sight started being obstructed by dark spots, but Mallory sought frantically, like any person devoid of reason right after being forced awake, to stop the source of the sound. It was the last thing she expected to reach to the side only to have to pick up Daryl's limp-heavy hand from pressing on the honk on the steering wheel.

With much struggle, Mallory made out that Daryl had fallen asleep while driving.

Perhaps she should be grateful that once asleep he pressed the honk, not the gas pedal.

There was no time given onto her by their circumstances to even properly assess this lucky situation however, because as her ear ringing started to fade, she became quickly aware of a new sound. Knocking. She couldn't quite place the origin of it, no matter where she looked. Mallory unbuckled her seatbelt to eye the windows of the car, even squint out in the pitch black darkness filled with the white noise of rain, barely pierced by the dirty headlights casting a short yellow hue ahead.

Then the "knock" caused a glass-crack and Mallory turned around, looking right at the back of the car.

"Shit," she cursed, eyes going wide as she identified a Walker — or two — trying to break through. With no hesitation whatsoever, Mallory kicked her door open, hand already closed in a fist around the handle of her knife. She stepped outside into the rain and couldn't even close the door properly or straighten herself up to be on guard through this still barely bearable noise that a corpse bumped right into her and swept the ground from under her feet in the process. She felt the bruise that was going to form on her back, the tremor of the hit between the back of her head and the ground leaving her thoughts scrambled too, but above all of that stood her fight or flight instinct.

With a knife already in her hand, though that Walker surely was going to eventually leave her be, she didn't take the chance of waiting for it to figure that out after a first bite: she drove the knife into its head and pushed its dead weight off of her with a knee in the chest.

Mud coating her skin and clothes as she struggled to stand told Mallory that they have unfortunately gone a little off road due to Daryl's exhaustion. She could tell nothing more about where they were at, just that she needed to get up and stop that walking corpse from breaking a window of their car and thus rendering the vehicle unreliable for them.

After a slippery way to her feet, using the outside of the car as her pillar of support, Mallory got pushed into that very rigid helper again by another death-defying pest. The rain had rendered her fine hearing absolutely useless. She didn't hear this Walker and she couldn't tell how many more were out there either. Fact was, she couldn't even hear the arrow shot at the Walker's head until after it stuck through its temple either.

The corpse fell off of her and she spotted Daryl, just a step into the headlights, crossbow in hand.

Something between the slam of the door as she left the car or her being thrown into the side of the vehicle surely woke him up.

An unspoken agreement happened between them the moment their eyes met across the thick blanket of rain working both against them, in terms of dulling their senses, and alongside them, in terms of cleaning the mud they inevitably got covered into. Mallory gave up her endeavor of killing the Walker at the back of the car, as it has been distracted from its first interest rather easily once both her and Daryl were outside the vehicle. Instead, she turned back and ducked under Daryl's cover fire, to make a beeline for the driver's seat. Only once he heard the door close behind her did Daryl finally take the co-pilot seat.

Time was limited so Mallory saved adjusting her seat for later, instead choosing to sit on the very edge of it in order to reach the pedals right. The first thing she did while Daryl was in the car with her was to switch on the high beam on the headlights. It revealed that their intrusion had awakened the attention of quite the horde walking across the field.

"Hold on to something," Mallory spared a quick warning to Daryl. It was too dark to tell what was behind them, so really the only call was to drive right into the horde for a while, until she was safe enough to make a turn and find that road again — spinning wheels in mud or even just accelerating too forcefully was treacherous business that might sooner get them stuck in place than out of there though. She accelerated to first gear, then changed to reverse for a moment, only to go back to first gear again, in a perpetual cycle that should create enough inertia to get the car out of the mud they had stopped into and help it move forward.

There was no fast way of getting out of there and seeing the Walkers approach left Daryl restless in his seat. "We should go. Make a run for it."

"We ain't running far through mud," Mallory dismissed his idea entirely. The first dead walked right into the front of the car.

"Fine," Daryl retorted, voice raspy as if there was any part of him still clinging to sleep. "Keep it going," he prompted her and kicked the door open again, taking not the crossbow with him outside, but his pistol until then stored between their seats instead — the bastards already had them in sight, there was no need to be silent anymore, while the need for efficiency got ever higher.

He left the door open and stepped outward just about enough to start shooting the Walkers blocking her path directly. He made sure to push those few put down to the ground and that's when Mallory understood what he was trying to do: give her some adhesion through the mud.

Gunshot after gunshot fired sounded across the whole field.

"Got it!" Mallory shouted as soon as she felt she got the car moving. "Get back in."

She couldn't stop the car anymore so Daryl got back inside while it was slowly picking up it's movement forward, a gradual, by-the-book crescendo up to second gear, beyond which she wouldn't go for this amble turn she was about to take. Thankfully, the road was within sight and there weren't all that many Walkers between them and the road as there were back on the field they left behind with steadily increasing speed.

Blood had splattered all over the windshield and in order to see anything at all, Mallory had the wipers moving.

As soon as the wheels hit asphalt beneath them, Mallory continued accelerating further, until she looked in the rear mirror, seeing just as little as before, but confidently muttering anyway, "I think we lost them."

Daryl burst in a fit of chuckles he hoped to subdue by bringing his chin down to his chest and moving his hand up to his mouth. But even a muffled laugh like that was contagious, quick to brush off onto Mallory, who had far less of an inhibition when it came to laughing out loud. Though he started laughing first, it wasn't until she joined in that the car's atmosphere had been properly uplifted.

"Damn it, honey," Mallory stole a glimpse at him, delighted to see his red cheeks under his palm that had climbed to his forehead instead, an attempt to hide himself. "How did you manage to sleep through the car horn?"

"There was a car horn?" He was innocently baffled by that information.

"I would normally recommend we stop for coffee, but given the world we live in, perhaps it's time you get some proper instead."

"Yes, ma'am," Daryl dropped his hands back in his lap, only to quickly cross his arms at his chest instead, restlessness getting the best of him still. Though he avoided retorting to this at first, there was no denying that it was safer just then to let her drive them away from that horde and for him to take advantage of this time to actually regain his edge with a little sleep. "Just don't pick up any hitchhikers, 'aight?" He said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

"Yes, sir," she imitated him, making sure that he went to sleep with a smile on his lips.

Thankfully, Mallory had the audible proof of his soft snoring tell her he was rather fast asleep in the seat to her right, head hanging a little lower towards her, rather than towards the window. To keep herself attentive on the road instead of mesmerized by how relaxation swept across his features, still handsome even underneath yet another fine layer of dirt tampered with by the same droplets of lingering cold rain that she felt pepper her own skin in goosebumps and shivers, Mallory started humming.

There was no radio, and before she knew it, her lips ceased releasing incoherent sounds, instead remembering the sea shanties they've kissed in song a whole childhood and most of her adult life. The verses returned to her in waves, though she dared not raise her voice to meet the strength the words demanded.

When she ended up murmuring the lyrics of "Leave Her Johnny", the sunrise not quite there yet, but brightening the sky cleared of clouds away from the eternal darkness of night nonetheless, a more demanding sound came from the car itself. She would describe that sound as a 'bang'. Some lights shone on the board before her, but before Mallory could do anything about it, smoke raised from under the hood as well, to confirm her hearing assessment that it was nothing good. The car had to come to a stop and to avoid a crash, Mallory aided that smooth stop towards the side of the road. 

Her instincts had her casting a glance to the side, at Daryl, but almost immediately, the sight of him finally getting the rest he didn't allow himself to get a proper amount of before for her sake turned her gaze away.

With a sigh, Mallory opened the door.

She could use a little stretching and some fresh air while she waited for the sunrise; the stench of death she caught from that unplanned stop in the field was getting annoyingly comfortable in her nostrils anyway, almost as if it wished to spite the air freshener dangling by the rear mirror. After she's had her moment outside, she decided she would wake Daryl up gently.

They've had so few gentle mornings, none in which she would be up before him — that's how things used to be back when early mornings belonged to her and late nights to him. For three months they've shared so much, but somehow not that raw sound of voices in the morning, after a good and long rest. So much, yet so little. She decided she'd have to lay the bad news on him gently too, that they would have to walk from here on, until the next car they find.

But for now, Mallory had time for herself to step outside the car, close the door behind her with much care to remain quiet and then finally stretch her arms up above her head, listening to that blissful little crack releasing some of the tension that has been stacking up from hours on end of driving. She unfortunately felt the formed bruises from the falls she had to take thanks to the rain and the Walkers, and with a strange need for further inspection prying her eyes down, Mallory had been unfortunately graced with knowing she looked like shit.

Mud splattered over clothes that have anyhow seen better days. Blood stained in some places too.

Wake him up gently while looking like this? she scolded herself. I'll sooner give him a heart attack.

She sighed. Ever since this whole mess started, with her escape from TRIUM, she's felt so unspeakably dirty that she didn't just desire a shower, be it cold or warm, but to fully soak in a bathtub for at least an hour, scrub this grime off of her with a brush and feel her pores again as anything else but clogged.

Or at the very least, she wished they could soon stop to get some new clothes. There was no hope in getting these washed and dried, but maybe they could find new ones on their next supply stop.

The clean air definitely helped with getting thoughts circulating in her mind, if Mallory had already begun making plans for both her and Daryl before she even decided to lean against the car and look up at the sky — perhaps she could wait a little longer for the sunrise to raise above the treeline.

That sunrise was however long in coming.

Just as the sun neared the top of the trees surrounding the road on the side of which she stopped the car, a scream scared some tiny birds from their nests, sending them in flight right through Mallory's view of the brightening sky. The raw vibrato of the scream was a clear foil to danger, so Mallory was quick to react as well, ducking her head down and dropping to hide behind the shape of the car.

She could tell the scream was coming from the right side.

Deep in thoughts and hopeful plans until then, she had had no reason until then to actually listen to her surrpundings, but now, now the sound of someone struggling and a Walker groaning was as clear as her own rapid heartbeat in her chest.

"Please," she heard the cry of the person being attacked and started piecing together that the voice and the scream could only ever belong to a young child.

Her course of action got decided by instinct there and then.

Mallory checked up and down the road and quickly along the treeline on the left side, before getting up and unsheathing her knife. After a fugitive glimpse at Daryl, debating on whether she should wake him up and have him go with her, another scream prompted her to abandon such matters and start running towards the source of the screm, towards the kid.

Not long after she started running through the thickets, Mallory caught sight of the Walker and the little girl, probably no older than five years old, that it was trying to get to. The child had climbed as far up a tree as she could, using the rocks around it to her advantage to reach the first branch, but the Walker accidentally found the same means to prop itself up and reach further than it normally would have. It's rotten nails have torn from her clean checkered dress in beige shades, but Mallory saw no signs of blood having been drawn. No signs of infection having occurred yet. She wasn't too late to step in.

As soon as she got there, she grabbed the Walker from the back of its neck and pulled it down from the rock. She dropped her knee on top of its chest to not allow it to stand up, then drove the knife through it's head. Though she had hoped her body would cover most of the carnage of that takedown, Mallory underestimated just how high up the girl had climbed and how thin her own body has gotten after well over a year of barely human lifestyle. The girl saw everything and she screamed a third time.

Upclose, the cried shouting was threading closer to an irritating sound for Mallory's overly sensitive ears, so she didn't bother cleaning the knife before hiding it away and getting up. "It's alright," she turned around, raising her hands up and to the side. "You don't have to be afraid anymore. I'm not gonna hurt you." Scary as she might have looked, covered in dirt, Mallory counted on her eyes and her smile to do justice by her pure intentions. "Did you get lost from your parents? If you have, I can help you look for them. Me and my friend too. He's back —"

A gunshot fired.

"No," the little girl shouted, climbing down in two controlled drops from the tree and running to the nice woman she had witnessed fall to the ground. Blood covered her muddy shirt. "Arnie," the child cried out back over her shoulder. "She wasn't Turned! She was alive."

"What?" A boy, definitely not fully matured, lowered his shotgun and hurried closer, looking down at the Walker, then at the dead woman who, even upclose looked so dirty he still had his doubts whether or not his sister was telling the truth. Then again, if she had been wrong, the shot he fired shouldn't have killed her, because his aim was way off. "I could have sworn she was... Damn it," he sighed. "Don't you tell dad about any of this or he'll never let me go hunting again. Hear me, Dee? This is your fault, anyway. You ran from my side."

"But she has a friend," Dee sighed, infuriated by Arnie's first instinct of throwing blame.

"Here?" A cold sweat passed down Arnie's spine. He knew then, if this woman he had killed wasn't alone, then there was no escaping it: he had to let his father know. "Run back to town," he commanded his sister. "Tell them we got a situation."

AUTHOR'S NOTE :   
   Mallory's bad luck is as if the natural order is trying to restore itself, but no matter how she gets killed, she just comes back.

Anywayy, this chapter was PACKED!!

Props to mom to technically teaching me how to move the car out of mud by helping me with this chapter 💖✨️