When the little girl ran away from them, Daryl could only assume she was part of this terrible place, maybe even have been part of the thing that was following after them. He ran after Michonne, occasionally driving his blade into what he assumed was the head of the things leaping out at him. But it was as though no matter where they went, that giant masked thing was always behind them.
The darkness was doing them no favours. Daryl strained his sight as much as possible to see, trying to force his vision to become clear so that they might be able to find a clear path to safety. Wishful thinking, he supposed, because all he got was nothing. Just pitch black.
A four-legged thing leapt out at Daryl, and he swung his knife into it until it stopped moving before he turned to Michonne, just in time to watch as one of those armless freaks threw itself at her. He moved fast, practically falling after it so he could grab it and rip it away, dragging it backward along with him. A series of quick jabs to its head saw the job done, but he didn’t have time to revel in the little victory.
That dragging, metal-on-asphalt sound had stopped. Daryl instinctively turned, the blade he had raised up and plunged into the shoulder of the thing that had been following them. It looked like a man, except for the metal triangle-shaped cage on its head, and for the briefest of seconds Daryl thought his knife slowed it down. He hadn’t even let go of the handle when suddenly its arm shot out and grabbed him around the throat.
Almost instantly, he felt his windpipe crush under its grip, and Daryl let out a strangled gasp as he struggled for air. The thing raised him upward, forcing Daryl to release his grip on the knife still embedded into its shoulder so that he could grab its arm in a futile attempt to keep from losing all ability to breathe. That sound of metal on asphalt returned, but only for a second, and suddenly Daryl’s vision went blindingly white and pain shot from his abdomen and through the rest of his body.
He wasn’t sure when he was dropped to the ground after that, only that when he landed he couldn’t feel a thing. Daryl’s entire mind was spinning, going in and out of consciousness while he tried to force himself to remain aware. He half-heartedly tried to drag himself backward, away from the thing that had stabbed him, but his body felt heavier than usual and he fell flat onto the ground under him.
He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep breathing was a challenge by itself. He pressed a hand over the bloody mess that was now his stomach. This wasn’t how he was supposed to die. Not in some shitty town with some creepy ass caged head monster leering at him.
You're gonna be the last man standing. Wasn’t that what Beth said? Last man standing.