Rather than burn off
to reveal
a bright summer day, as Beth had hoped, the fog remained, thick and gray,
making Beth feel as though she was trapped in perpetual twilight. The ride was
quiet, with everyone opting to listen to a radio station out of Savannah that
gave regular reports on the traffic accident.
“Nine car pileup,”
Michonne said, with a shake of her head.
“That’s because some
idiots drive in any kind of weather like it’s dry and sunny. They can’t see
twenty feet down the road yet some fools will drive thirty miles per hour over
the speed limit,” said Rick. “Good thing we left an hour early.”
They wound up at the
back of a line of cars almost two miles long. Horns honked. Tempers flared.
Other drivers resigned themselves to the wait and turned off their ignitions to
conserve fuel.
Forty-five minutes
later traffic began to move again but at a slow crawl. Beth pressed her face to
the window as they passed a line of mangled vehicles. She pitied the people
involved in the carnage. There was blood on the road but thankfully no bodies
were in sight.
“Just to be on the
safe side, Beth, lie down and put your head in Daryl’s lap. I don’t want you
visible to anyone on the side of the road,” Rick said.
Daryl pulled off his
jacket and bundled it into a pillow. She maneuvered herself on the seat until
she comfortably rested against Daryl.
“You thinking this is
some kind of setup to catch Beth?” asked Daryl.
“No way of knowing,”
said Shane. “We just need to be cautious.”
Thankfully there was
no trouble. The rest of the ride was smooth sailing and they arrived at the
courthouse with a few minutes to spare.
…
Beth was relieved to
be off
the witness stand. The court was closed to the public. Only necessary officials
and witnesses were allowed in. Negan had opted for a bench trial in the matter
of the Cooper murder.
He’d sat at the
defense table with his eyes glued to Beth in a cold and hateful stare as she’d
given her testimony. She’d found it difficult to speak up until she thought of
her father, how he’d almost died. She’d lost so much to that day in Cooper’s
Grocery.
Her eyes went to
Daryl, who sat at the back of the court room. She couldn’t deny that she’d
gained a great deal as well. She’d met and falling in love with a good man and
made wonderful new friends. Not everything that had come out of that chance
event had been awful.
It was easy to draw
strength from Daryl. Just knowing he was there was a comfort. Now, as she gazed
at him, she didn’t find it at all difficult to stand up under the weight of
Negan’s glare. She completed her testimony and was released from the stand.
“You ready to eat
now?” asked Daryl, putting an arm around her. “I can hear your belly growling.”
Beth nodded. “Now
that it’s over I’m starving. We should go for pizza.”
“I know a place not
far from here,” said Shane. He looked away as a woman with red hair approached,
smiling.
“Detective Mercer!
Surprised to see you here,” he said, offering his hand.
“I’m as keen as
anyone to see Negan get what’s coming to him. Good work, Walsh. Maybe now we
can weed out the corrupt cops back in Senoia.”
“You had a hand in
it, Brigid,” he replied.
She bowed her head in
acknowledgement and smiled at Beth. “You were very brave to testify today, Miss
Greene.”
“Thanks.”
“You want to join us
for pizza? We could, uh, have that drink we talked about,” Shane said.
Brigid clapped Shane
on the arm. “I’m heading home. Gotta get back in time to pick up the kids. I’ll
take a rain check.”
“You got it.”
Shane very clearly
enjoyed the back view as Detective Mercer walked way. Beth snapped her fingers
in front of his face. “Pizza, Agent Walsh. Pizza.”
…
Perception
of time could be a tricky thing. The ride to court had seemed to
fluctuate between crawling by and speeding by. Now, on the way home, Beth felt
it simply crawled by. She sat next to Daryl, contemplating the news that Agent
Carstairs had died in the wreck on the highway. She listened to the steady
thump of the windshield wipers and the beat of the rain on the truck, wondering
how much of that was a coincidence and if someone had been waiting to kill her
as they’d driven by the wrecked cars. What bothered Beth was that Carstairs
hadn’t been the only casualty in that ‘accident.’ Two other people had died
with him.
“Those people…if I
hadn’t gone to the store that day for ice cream I wouldn’t have witnessed Mr.
Cooper’s murder. I wouldn’t have gone on the run. Agent Carstairs wouldn’t have
been murdered and taken two innocent people with him.”
Daryl squeezed her
hand. “None of that was your fault, Beth. That’s on Carstairs and whoever
killed him, not you.”
She took very little
comfort from his words, even though she knew they were fact.
“I want us to have a
talk when we get home,” Daryl said quietly, under the sound of the rain the
wipers, and the music that spilled from the speakers.
“About what?”
“Our future,” he
said.
Beth felt cold in her
stomach at those words. What did he mean he wanted to talk about their future?
She worried it over for almost an hour before they reached home. They emerged
from the truck and received a wet and sloppy greeting from the guard dogs.
Exhausted, Beth
peeled off her jacket once she reached the bedroom. Eight hours total on the
road, the testimony, news of Carstairs’ death, the dreary weather, and worry
over Daryl’s comment, took it out of her. She made her way to the shower and
turned the water on as hot as she could stand it.
“You got quiet on the
way back,” Daryl said, when she came into the bedroom to change into her
pajamas. “Something wrong? You’re not still beating yourself up over the
accident, are you?”
“I’m just tired is
all.”
Daryl wasn’t buying
it. He could sense something was off. “Baby, what’s wrong? Don’t shut me out,
please.”
“You said we needed
to talk about our future. Sounded like a prelude to a break-up.”
Daryl burst into
laughter. “No! I just wanted to know where I’m gonna fit into your life now. I
mean, do you plan to stay in Springston? Do you plan to back to the farm?”
Beth gave it serious
consideration. She hadn’t really thought of what she would do now that the
drama was over and she and her family were safe.
“I don’t know. I’d
love to be near my father but…I want to be wherever you are. You’ve become home
for me.”
Daryl felt pain in
his chest. It was the kind of pain born of love and happiness. He swallowed. “I
am?”
Beth nodded and put
her arms around him.
“We’ll work it out,”
he promised, feeling Beth yawn against his chest. She hadn’t been lying about
being tired. He was, too. “We won’t be apart.”
“Come to bed. We need
some rest and I want you to hold me.”
Daryl snuggled up
behind her. “We’ll figure it out in the morning,” he said, but she was already
asleep.
…
At
first Beth thought the loud crack and the shaking around her was
part of a dream she’d woken from. Instead she opened her eyes to see a bright
orange glow outside of her bedroom window, which faced the front of the house.
Warning sirens began to blast through every room.
“Beth, get up,” Daryl
said.
The sound of gunfire
and a man crying out shot even more adrenaline through Beth’s body. She was
wide awake when she jumped out of bed and followed Daryl to the door. He made
certain it was locked and then grabbed his shoes.
“Put your shoes on.
We may have to go outside.”
She hurried to slip
into them. Someone banged on the door, making her heart thunder even harder.
“Beth? Daryl?”
“Lori,” whispered
Daryl.
He unlocked the door
and yanked it open. Lori shoved a gun to his chest. “We’ve got a breach. The
gun is really simple. Point and pull the trigger.”
“I know how to
shoot,” he said.
“I do too,” said
Beth.
Lori reached down to
her ankle and pulled a small gun from a holster under her pant leg and gave it
to Beth.
“We’re going to get
you to the panic room. Don’t come out for anything or anyone but Rick,
Michonne, or one of the team. Even if they identify themselves as police.”
“Got it,” Daryl
answered.
They followed Lori
into the hall. Smoke had wafted up from the first floor. It stung at Beth’s
eyes and burned at her throat. She stuck close to Daryl, who walked cautiously
along behind Lori.
“I’ll cross the
staircase first,” she whispered. “I’ll cover you from the other side.”
She’d taken just one
step out when a bullet whizzed dangerously close to her head and slammed into
the wall behind her. Rather than duck back, Lori began to fire as she rushed
across the hall.
“Come on!” she
shouted, still firing down the stairs. Daryl tucked her beside him, using his
body as a shield, and rushed Beth across the hall.
“Why did you do
that?” she demanded. “They could have shot you.”
“I’m keeping you
safe,” he answered. “I’ll die before I let something happen to you.”
Lori approached a pad
fitted into the wall. She punched in a code but nothing happened.
“Fuck,” she
whispered.
“What?”
“We’re locked out of
the panic room. Let’s go.”
They ran to the room
at the end of the hall. Lori ushered them in and slammed the door shut, locking
it, just as several bullets slammed into it, making heavy thudding sounds.
“The door is bullet
proof,” she said, pulling out her phone. She went to the window and looked
down.
The back yard was
empty with the exception of two men keeping watch by a black SUV. The yard
lights illuminated them fully but they were unable to see into the darkened
bedroom that Lori was in.
“Come on, Rick,” she
said. She received no answer and hung up.
“Follow me,” said
Lori.
“The bathroom?” Beth
said.
“Secret passage,”
Daryl answered. “You should have studied the schematics of the house, Baby.”
“I will if we live
through this,” answered Beth.
Daryl squeezed her
shoulder as he nudged her along in front of him, careful to keep to her back, again
acting as a shield should someone breach the room and start shooting.
“I thought this was
over,” said Beth.
“So did we,” Lori
answered. She walked into the shower and pulled on the hot water handle. The
tiles beside her seemed to crack and give way as they moved inward and to the
left, revealing a dark staircase. Lori flipped a switch and yellow bulbs
emitted a very dull light, just enough to see the steep winding staircase in
front of them. Once they were all inside, she pressed a button that sealed the
entrance.
“Keep moving. We’re
going to the rear garage.”
Beth carefully
navigated her way down the winding staircase. The metal grating the steps were
made of echoed around them. It was such a tight, steep descent Beth began to
feel dizzy. She was grateful when they reached the bottom and had a moment to
stop and get her bearings.
“Someone disabled the
panic room,” Lori said, looking at Daryl.
“How is that
possible?”
Lori shook her head.
“A hacker could do it. They’d have to be very good. Better than Michonne, who
designed the system.”
“Or maybe someone on
the inside?”
“That’s possible.
Unlikely, but possible.”
“What do we do now?”
Lori was looking at a
screen set into the wall. “The garage is clear. There’s an armored truck
inside. We’re going to get in it and drive to another safe house.”
“But what about
Andrea and the others?” asked Beth.
“They can take care
of themselves. This is about getting you to safety. Follow me.”
When the door was
open Lori went through first, pointing her gun ahead of her. She cleared the
room, though she didn’t like the partially open garage door. She checked under
the truck, which looked like something from a dystopian sci-fi movie, and then
checked behind it.
“Clear,” she said.
Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out to answer it. “Andrea. We’re in the rear
garage with the armored truck,” she whispered. “Everyone else?...We’ll wait.”
It took two minutes
for Andrea to arrive. Those minutes had seemed to stretch into eternity,
leaving Beth exposed every second of it, before Andrea finally entered through
a door on the other side of the garage. She kept imagining someone jumping out
of the truck to shoot at her.
“Rick’s with Michonne
and Shane,” Andrea said, coming in and giving Lori a kiss. “He wants you to get
them to safe house seven.”
“That’s the plan,”
Lori said, nodding. “You’re coming with, right? You’re wounded.”
“I thought I’d stay
and help.”
Lori side eyed
Andrea. “What are you not telling me? I’m not a kid, Andrea. I can take
whatever it is you have to say.”
“Jacqui and Axel are
dead.”
“Goddamn it,” Lori
hissed. “Who is this? FBI? How many are there?”
“We don’t know how
many there are or who they’re with,” answered Andrea, leading them around to
the back of the truck where she grabbed the handle of the door to let Beth and
Daryl slip in. “Let’s get going. We’ll wait for Rick to--”
“Down!” Daryl
shouted, shoving Beth and Andrea out of the way. Beth hit the cold concrete
floor of the garage just as she heard a booming sound and Daryl cry out. She
looked back to see him raise his gun and fire.
“Daryl!”
A man fell face first
from the truck with a bullet wound directly center of his forehead. Beth shoved
the body off Daryl and knelt by his side. He had a gunshot wound in the upper
right side of his chest and his eyes were closed.
“Somebody help!”
“Help me get him into
the truck!” Lori shouted.
“Do something!” Beth
wept, hysterical now.
“We’ll get him to the
hospital but you have to help, Beth!” Andrea shouted.
She helped Andrea and
Lori pick him up and put him into the back of the truck where blood and brains
had been sprayed. Beth didn’t care about the gore or the stench of death.
Daryl’s breathing was ragged and blood was spreading from the wound at an
alarming rate.
“Please, please,
please,” she wept.
“Put pressure on the
wound,” Andrea said, yanking the door shut.
A moment later the
truck fired to life and rocked as Lori drove out of the garage. Someone was
firing at them but it didn’t stop the truck, which kept going. Beth watched as
Daryl became pale and, to her horror, stopped breathing.
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