The Demons (DD)

"The Demons" is the ninth episode of Season 1 of Dark Days. It is the ninth episode overall. It premiered on September 3, 2019.

Synopsis
"Dahlia reminisces and considers her options."

Plot
THEN

Night falls at the university. Girls walk around and socialize within their collective dormitory hall, spending what time they have left in the day before going to bed. Dahlia leans against a wall, arms crossed and head down, appearing deep in thought as she ignores the noise around her.

“Everything alright Dahlia?” She looks up to see Caroline step aside to stand before her. She cocks her head. “You’ve kinda been… standing around vacantly for a while.”

“Eh? Oh, um… yeah.” Dahlia shakes her head, before she nods at Caroline quickly, her lips pursed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m, uh… I’m good. Just a lot on my mind.”

Caroline purses her lips in turn. “What the hell happened this morning? I mean, it’s not normal for a gun to go off inside.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Dahlia replies quickly. “I just… saw something I wish I didn’t, and it sucks, and everything’s fine. We’re all fine! Everything’s hunky-fuckin’-dory.”

“Hey, c’mon.” Caroline places a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “If something’s bothering you, you know you can talk to me, right? Mel and I are totally here for you. Or you can go see Warren and Raye tomorrow.” Dahlia looks at Caroline silently.

It’s then, someone clears their throat and shouts over the commotion -- all go quiet to see Blaine Parker and Olivia Dent in the hall.

“My apologies to interrupt any conversation, but it’s that time of night again.” Parker smiles, though Dahlia is the only one to see the touch of pain in his expression. “Please return to your dorms for the night, we will see you all for breakfast in the morning.”

Dent nods. “Eight o’clock sharp, ladies. We’re having eggs!” There’s an audible groan as the two leave, with someone muttering “We always fucking have eggs…”

Caroline looks back at her friend. “I mean it, Dahlia. Don’t let whatever’s bothering you keep eating you up.”

She forces a smile, nodding at her friend. “Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

Caroline smiles, walking off towards her dorm. Dahlia turns to briskly walk in the other direction, her smile falling to a look of uncertainty.

Creeping down the stairs into the dark halls of the first floor, Dahlia looks around frantically, before she darts to another side of the corridor. Armed with only a ball peen hammer she acquired from a closet, the girl tries her best to quietly sneak to the front doors. Reaching the foyer, she looks around for any signs of Daniel on patrol, before she hurries for the front doors. Gripping the handles, she pulls hard.

They don’t budge.

“Fuck, locked…” She mutters under her breath. Looking to the hammer, she briefly considers shattering glass, but automatically decides against it.

Investigating down the hall, her eyes fall on the various windows.

“... am I really doing this?” She asks herself. She sits herself down on the windowsill for sometime, before finally deciding to ignore her anxiety and heave the thing open. It slid upwards, allowing Dahlia to clamber out to the front lawn.

As she slid the window down far enough to look closed, but leaving it open a bit to climb back in later, she was greeted with a slurred voice. “Whaaaat the hell’re you doin’ out here?”

She gasps, jerking away as her head shoots to the side. She finds two familiar blondes -- Gina and Monica -- sitting on the grass, surrounded by several glass bottles.

Monica sips one of the whiskey bottles. “Want any, bitch?”

“I-I… no, I don’t… I don’t drink…” Dahlia shakes her head nervously, unsure of how to respond.

“Suuuuit yourself, bitch.” Gina hisses with a smirk, as she chugs more from her bottle.

“W-What are you two even doing out here??” Dahlia asks.

“Driiiinkin’ Parker’s aaaaalcohol.” Monica giggles, tossing a bottle aside. “Tastes great! Super bitter… kinda suuucks but it’ll do!”

“Dooooon’t you dare tell Parks we took this.” Gina slowly shakes a finger at Dahlia. “Don’t you… don’t, don’t you daaaare…”

Dahlia turns away, shaking her head. “J-Just be careful…”

She walks around the courtyard to another part of the brick wall, consumed by the shadows and untouched by the light of the moon. The girl takes one more look at her hammer, before she tosses it over the wall. Then, backing up, she sprints and jumps, kicking off the wall and latching her hands to the top. She grunts, struggling to push herself up. Dahlia finally manages to swing one leg over, and she throws herself over the wall and lands on the dirt and gravel below with a thud.

“G-Gah, fuck…!” She winces, lying sprawled on the dirt for a good moment. She feels the area around her, finding the hammer laying beside her right leg. Dahlia sighs with a smile.

A snarl from the trees catches her attention, and she goes stiff for a moment. Upon hearing the snapping of twigs and the rustling of leaves, Dahlia quickly gets to her feet, arming herself with the hammer, her arms shaking.

One lone walker shambles from the forest, reaching for the girl and letting out a raspy hiss. Dahlia takes a half step back, letting it get close enough before she bats an arm away with the hammer, then swings it back around to it connects with the undead’s head. It wobbles, stumbling away as blood flies from the wound on its cheek.

Dahlia continues, hurriedly swinging the ball peen hammer down onto its temple, sending the lurker to the ground, where she delivers several hard stomps to its head. By the fifth stomp, it finally ceases to move.

Panting, the girl hurries to the edge of the hill the university sits on, looking out to the streets of Tuscaloosa below. Her mission is clear -- find someone in need.

But she notices something as she scans the environment before her; a lit road, with what appears to be functioning street lights, standing out amidst the pitch black city.

She almost chuckles in disbelief, though her confusion and concern overtakes her. Overall, she finds herself curious -- and Dahlia sprints down the hill, ready to investigate.

The girl grips the hammer tightly, slowly patrolling the dimly lit road of Tuscaloosa. She looks down each and every alleyway she passes. Despite the fact that she can’t hear any lurkers, Dahlia remains vigilant, in case any try to take her by surprise.

She looks up, squinting at the lights over head. They’re lanterns hanging on posts, illuminated by bright light bulbs. Wires run from the undersides of each light source, as they trail to the other end of the street seemingly.

Dahlia’s confusion is cut short as she snaps to attention, hearing the soft snarl of a walker nearby. Sure enough, it stumbles from an alleyway just ahead of her to the left. Taking a moment to react, she steps towards it before another walker clambers from the alleyway directly next to her, emerging from the darkness and reaching for her.

Surprised, she trips backwards, stumbling and almost falling over. In a panic, Dahlia swings the hammer and smashes it into the walker’s head, sending it to the ground as the other lurker reaches her. Before she can swing, it latches onto her, attempting to bite her as she grabs it by the wrists, fighting to push it back.

The girl’s breathing accelerates, and she looks wide-eyed at the undead humanoid trying to tear into her face. She almost gives into the struggle when--

BANG!

Blood sprays across Dahlia’s face as the lurker collapses. She steps aside of the body as a group of people come into view -- a small group of men. The one in the center is holding a gun; an older male, with dark gray hair and glasses, with a tall figure and a wrinkled face. He lowers his gun, approaching the girl with a stone-cold gaze. Dahlia steps back from the man in fear, as the now crawling walker reaches for her.

BANG!

The man fires another round, killing the crawler once he reaches the girl.

The two stare at each other for some time.

The man reaches into his pocket and offers her a rag. “Are you okay?”

Hesitantly taking the rag, the girl slowly wipes blood from her face, never breaking eye contact. “... I-I don’t kill those things often…”

The man chuckles. “I can tell… what’s a young lady like you doing out here alone?” Dahlia quickly hands the rag back, taking another step back without an answer. The stranger raises a hand. “No, my apologies. I understand how that question sounds… but believe me, we’re not here to hurt you.”

“... w-who are you?” Dahlia asks.

“I could ask you the same.” He puts his gun away, as well as the rag.

“I’m… Dahlia. Dahlia Dwelton.” The girl nods. “I-I’m a student at… the University of Alabama.”

The man grins. “... well, nice to meet you, Ms. Dwelton. I’m Arnold. Arnold Davis. And me and my friends… we’re restoring order to the city.”

“... you’re what?”

“I know, confusing, but come along.” Arnold beckons. “Let’s go somewhere safe. Standing out in the streets isn’t exactly an ideal scenario.”

He turns to walk back down the street, his comrades following. With her heart in her throat, and a tightness in her chest, Dahlia wipes the sweat from her forehead and follows him.

“Would you like anything to eat? We’ve got vegetables stockpiled.”

Dahlia sits at a small table in a dimly lit room, Arnold across from her and the other men strewn about.

“Perhaps a drink? Beer, juice, water?” He suggests.

The girl shakes her head. “N-No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Arnold nods. “... tell me Dahlia, have you played chess before? How often?”

“Chess?” She asks, confused. “I, um… I’ve played it a lot before. Why?”

With a grin, Arnold reaches down beneath the table. He pulls up a chess board, and begins setting up the pieces. “I feel chess is a good way to stay attentive… and it helps people make conversation. If we’re going to talk, we need to stay vigilant while we do.”

Dahlia raises an eyebrow. “... you… play chess so you don’t let your guard down?”

“Precisely. I’m at risk of getting killed if I don’t pay attention.” Arnold allows himself to be the black side, while Dahlia takes the white. “You move first.”

Dahlia nods, moving a pawn forward two spaces. “So you’re… restoring the city? What does that mean?”

“My friends and I patrol the streets, day and night, gathering supplies and eliminating the filth.” Arnold responds, pursing his lips. “A lot of filth on the streets these days… crawling out of basements, hiding under cars -- it’s sickening. And they fight back, too. It makes our job harder.”

Dahlia nods, looking down to see her pawn beside Arnold’s. She moves another pawn beside hers. “I came out here to help people in need.”

“You come all the way down from the university to help people in need… in the middle of the end of the world, with only a hammer?” Arnold laughs a bit, evoking chuckles from the other men. Dahlia shrinks in her seat. “I’m not sure if that’s amicable, or foolish. Likely both.”

Arnold moves a piece -- a bishop, striking down her pawn. Dahlia quickly plans her next move. “S-So you clean the streets of… the filth? That’s what you call them?”

“Well it’s only befitting of those who suffer, and… fail or failed to do anything about it.” Arnold replies. “What do you call them?”

“... walkers, lurkers, crawlers, biters…” She shrugs. “... I’m not big on the occult, but… sometimes I call them the demons.”

“The demons?!” Arnold laughs at that, but shakes his head. “That’s the best name I’ve heard for them in ages! They really are demonic and nasty, aren’t they?”

Dahlia smiles nervously. As the game continues, she looks back up at Arnold. “... can I help you then? Help you with the city… help you help people?”

The man smiles. “That’s… a very sweet thing to say, Ms. Dwelton. You honestly want to help restore the city?” She nods earnestly. “Well then, your actions will help many worthy people in the long run. Believe me, you won’t need to worry about the demons any more.” It’s then he flicks over her king, his smile fading. “Checkmate.”

Dahlia gasps, the piece falling into her lap. Barely any of her pieces remained, while half of his were scattered across the board. She hadn’t been paying attention.

“No worries. The first game never goes well. Don’t take it to heart, practice makes perfect after all.” It’s then Arnold hands his pistol to Dahlia. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

She eyes the handgun wearily, nodding slowly. “I-I do.”

“Good, good. I want you to practice, then.” He nods. “Go out on the streets… search the basements. The filth tend to hide down there. Exterminate as many as you can, and bring my gun back here. Keep a tally of how many you kill… I want to know how capable you really can be.”

Receiving the weapon, and a genuine smile, Dahlia slowly stands, nodding. Everything is moving incredibly fast for her, but she smiles, stepping out of the shack to the nighttime streets, hoping to begin helping those still in need.

Dahlia ducks into another alleyway, hearing snarls somewhere nearby but unsure of their location. She heads behind a few homes, keeping the pistol in front of her, finger off the trigger. It feels heavy in her hands.

She turns a corner and sees a cellar door. Looking around, she notices no nearby walkers. Remembering Arnold’s words, she grips the handles and pulls them open, a very loud, rusty creak erupting from the old metal.

The girl coughs and fans the dust away with her hand, looking down the cobblestone steps into the darkness, at a wooden door at the bottom.

She raises an eyebrow. “Why would he… want to focus on the dead inside homes…?” She shakes her head, slowly descending the steps to the wooden door.

Dahlia takes hold of the metal knob, turns it, and forces the door open.

Click.

The barrel of a pistol presses against her forehead. “Drop it.”

Dahlia gasps, quickly raising her hands as she lets the gun fall from her hands. “N-No, it’s not--”

“Shut up.” A tall, slender black woman dressed in dark business attire keeps the gun trained on her.

An older male’s voice pipes in. “Phoebe, it’s--”

“Not right now, Wilkes.” The woman known as Phoebe says.

“Phoebe, she’s just a girl! Lower the gun!” An older black man with white hair sits in a dark corner of the small room, a teenage boy beside him.

“D-Dad’s right… unless she’s dangerous.” The boy adds.

“Mom… is she dangerous?” There’s a Hispanic mother and daughter in the corner, the teenage girl looking to the woman for guidance.

“N-No! I’m not dangerous, I… I’m here to help!” Dahlia nods. “I didn’t think there were survivors down here, I’m trying to help people, I swear!”

“We’ve never seen her before, Phoebe, are you certain she could be with them?” Wilkes asks, slowly getting to his feet.

Phoebe places her finger on the trigger. “We’ve got no idea where those assholes are located, so when they show up, I need to kill them. We’ve taken out three already, I’m sure a fourth will do just fine.”

“W-Wait, wait wait wait… I’m here alone. I’m not here to hurt you.” Dahlia pleads, trembling where she stands.

“She can’t be with those men, Phoebe.” The boy speaks up. “I mean… they’re all men. She ain’t.”

Phoebe releases her finger from the trigger. “... are you honestly who you say you are?”

“Y-Yes! I’m just…” Dahlia narrows her eyes. “... wait, I just… met with a group of men. They said…”

“Those men are dangerous.” The woman known as Phoebe steps back, keeping the gun on Dahlia. “They’ve killed innocent people.”

“... what?” Dahlia looks at her in disbelief. “... what… but I, but you… and they… who are they?”

The Hispanic woman in the corner looks at the floor, her voice shaking. “They… they are… los demonios.”

Dahlia raises an eyebrow. “... they’re… the demons?”

-

NOW

Dahlia watches quietly as the various hostages are brought by her down the basement stairs, as some struggle uselessly against their captors, while others fall in line and drag themselves along down the hall. Each time someone dares to look at her, she returns the gaze with a hard glare.

Until Warren is brought by her, the blonde stops in his tracks, turning to look at the girl he loves -- the girl he fails to recognize. Dahlia firmly stares into his pain-ridden eyes.

He licks his lips and shakes his head. “... w-what… what did you do…?”

Dahlia looks away. “... move along.”

Warren’s gaze on her lingers, but he doesn’t fight being forced down the hall, as Gina and Rocky come next, followed by even more hostages following suite. As the assembly line progresses, with Bob and Jesse returning to Dahlia’s side quietly, Wilkes approaches Dahlia, looking around at the line.

“... are you sure about this?” He asks softly.

Dahlia eyes him, before turning to head down the hall. “Y-Yes. Yes, I am.”

Your Rating
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Other Cast
Special Guest Stars
 * Nicole Beharie as Phoebe (Flashback)
 * Michelle Ang as Caroline (Flashback)

Co-Stars

 * RJ Cyler as Trevor (Flashback)
 * Eva Mendes as Mona Benevidez (Flashback)
 * Selena Gomez as Rosa Benevidez (Flashback)
 * Tiffany Morgan as Olivia Dent (Flashback)

Uncredited

 * Leonard Roberts as Bob
 * Matt Winston as Jesse

Deaths

 * None

Trivia

 * First appearance of Arnold Davis. (Flashback)
 * First appearance of Mona Benevidez. (Flashback)
 * First appearance of Rosa Benevidez. (Flashback)
 * Last appearance of Caroline. (Flashback)
 * This episode was released at the same time as the following episode "Hard Times", to commemorate the return of the series and make up for the long wait since "Daybreak".
 * The title of this episode refers to both the term Dahlia uses to describe the walkers, and the term Mona uses to describe Arnold Davis and his people, as "the demons".