Winter Pt 3

Carl did his best to hide his tears by sitting with his body turned to the window and pulling his jacket over his face. The occasional hiccup of his soft sobs gave away his sorrow.

“It’s okay to cry,” Glenn said wetly. “Hell, I’m crying right now and I’m a grown man.”

That merciful permission from Glenn opened the floodgates for Carl. He wept, cringing away from Karen’s comforting hand on his back.

“You told Maggie to leave them!” Carl cried. He hated himself for it. He was trying his hardest to be a man but sometimes he still behaved like a kid. He was weak and he feared he always would be.

“I had to, Carl. It’s what Rick wanted. He wanted me to keep you safe. He ordered me to. He was our leader and I had to--”

“Stop talking about him like he’s dead! Stop the truck Maggie. I’ll go back for him myself since Glenn doesn’t have the balls to do it.”

“You know that ain’t gonna happen, Carl. That place was overrun with walkers. It’d be suicide to go back for…”

She trailed off and Carl knew she was going to say it would be suicide to go back for whatever meat was left on his father and Michonne’s bones. If walker-picked bones was all that remained of his dad then he wanted those bones back. They were his. He didn’t have anything but a cross at his mother’s grave. He was damned if he’d have another empty grave for his father because of those fucking moving corpses.

Carl made his decision right then. He couldn’t force Maggie to turn back but he could, when they reached the prison, fill the tank on the Tucson and drive it back to Charlesville himself. He’d never driven a car but hell, how hard could it be? He’d stash it with weapons. He didn’t care if it took a month of Sundays but he was going back to Charlesville and he was going to kill every walker in that godforsaken shithole.

Even if it killed him.

*****

Daryl Dixon knew the worst had happened when the Dodge Ram pulled through the gates missing two passengers. He did a quick search of the truck bed before he finally let his chest clench with grief. His grief didn’t show on his face--much--but he sure as hell felt it.

Carl emerged from the back of the truck with red, swollen eyes, and ran straight for the prison without stopping to talk to anyone, not even Beth, who stood confused and scared with her father, watching everybody but Rick and Michonne emerge from the truck. Maggie looked her in the eye and shook her head.

Beth ran to her sister, grateful that she’d returned, grateful that Glenn, the man she’d come to think of as her brother, had also returned, and wept in her sister’s arms.

“What happened?” Daryl asked. Karen accepted his hand, a chivalrous gesture to help her out of the truck, and it was then that they both noticed the scratch on her forearm. She didn’t know how she’d gotten it. She hadn’t even felt the scratch. Now, seeing it, she felt the cold hand of dread grip her guts and squeeze tight.

“Walkers attacked. We barely got out. We had to leave Rick and Michonne behind,” she said.

Daryl bit his lip and eyed the small scratch on Karen’s arm. He liked Karen. He liked her more than he should, he imagined, and now…”It could be nothing,” he offered.

She nodded and bravely said. “It’s probably something. I’m gonna go lock myself in my cell. If I turn I want you to be the one to put the bullet in my head.”

He nodded and watched her go, hoping like hell she’d gotten that scratch from anything but a walker, because the only way Daryl really wanted to put her down was in his bed, not with a bullet through her skull.

“I’m going to find Carl,” Beth said.

“Leave him be,” Daryl told her. “He needs to cry and he doesn’t want to do that in front of his girl.”

Beth nodded and squeezed Maggie’s hand. It was the first time anyone had referenced her as being Carl’s girl, even though it was true, and she hated that the first time someone did was because he was mourning his father’s loss.

Glenn approached Daryl. “This makes you the new Sheriff.”

“I ain’t no sheriff. Next person that calls me that is gonna get a punch in the face.”

“What do we do now?”

“You saw the walkers take ‘em down?”

Glenn shook his head and explained how they’d been pinned down when Rick ordered them to go and get Carl to safety.

“Well, shit!” Daryl said, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. “If there was only ten walkers on the ground they probably got away.”

Glenn was afraid he’d say that. “Daryl, man, come on. Even if they fought past the few walkers on the ground there were hundreds in the streets just searching for them. They had no shot at getting out of that alive. It’d be suicide to risk going back.”

“I’ll decide what’s too dangerous--”

“Glenn’s right,” Maggie said. Daryl suspected she was afraid that he’d enlist Glenn on a suicide mission. “They’re lost to us. You didn’t see that herd.”

“I won’t make any stupid decisions if that’s what you’re worried about but I’m not dropping this either. I’ll think it over. If I decide to risk going back and you don’t want to go that’s fine. No hard feelings but we can’t wait too long. If they found a safe place to hole up in they need us to get back to them ASAP.”

He started off to the entrance, his ever-present crossbow slung over his right shoulder, but his usual swagger was gone. He walked like a man with a mission and both Glenn and Maggie knew what that mission was going to be.

“I’m in,” Maggie said. “You know I’m in. Rick saved Daddy’s life when he got bit. He’s saved all our lives. He’s kept us going this long we can’t just…”

Glenn gripped Maggie’s hand. “Yeah. I know. If you’re in, I’m in.”

*****

Every door in town was locked.

“What the fuck?” Rick shouted. “This way. The dollar store is open.”

Michonne outstripped rick, sword drawn and ready, and for some mad reason he kept thinking of being a kid when his dad telling him how dangerous it was to run with sharp objects.

Now is not the time to lose it, Rick, he thought to himself. Don’t drop the ball. Not now.

They circled around to the dollar store they’d raided earlier. Rick all but ran into the door, expecting it to give. Now it, too, was locked. A heavy chain with a padlock had been placed on the handles from the inside. He and Michonne looked at one another, both bent at the waist trying to catch their breath.

“We’re not alone here,” she said.

Rick nodded. “Someone is toying with us.”

“We have a clear shot at the highway,” said Michonne. “Let’s make a run for it.”

Rick nodded in agreement but gripped her hand. “Push comes to shove I’ve saved two rounds. One for you, one for me.”

She nodded and then started a brisk jog up the main street, heading for the same entrance ramp they’d used to enter town. Now it was blocked with a truck. Standing in the bed of a truck holding a shotgun was a beefy, bronze-skinned man with long hair and a bushy beard. A pair of shades covered his eyes.

He shook his head. “Better run,” he said in a gruff voice, grinning and revealing deeply yellowed teeth. Behind them was the sound of walkers, milling about now, confused after having lost their quarry. “I’ll give you five minutes to find your way back into town. After that, you’ll be gunned down.”

Michonne looked to Rick. “We can take him.”

“You can’t take all of us,” the man said, hearing her. “You’re losing time.”

Rick nodded in the direction of the town. “Let’s go.”

“Rick--”

“We don’t have a choice and I intend to see Carl again.”

Without further protest, Michonne followed Rick back toward town, counterintuitive as it was. They had a helluva time making their way back in without being devoured by walkers, but they found an empty alley and, to their gratitude, an unlocked door with #3 written on it in dripping red paint.

Rick opened the door and entered first, telling Michonne to remain outside while he checked it out. It was a single room with a few crates stacked inside. Michonne entered when the sound of approaching walkers left her no choice. She didn’t want those things to see her enter this room and then try to tear the door down.

There was no lock inside for the door. There was only a heavy wooden plank that she situated into the hooked braces on either side of the door. She and Rick held absolutely still while outside walkers grunted and groaned, still in search of their prey. It wouldn’t be too long before their simple minds forgot why they were wandering the alley.

“Can’t see a thing in here,” Rick whispered. There were only a few razor sharp bars of light coming through the top and bottom of the door.

“Close your eyes and let them adjust to the dark,” Michonne said, doing likewise.

Rick closed his eyes and gave them time to adjust to the lower level of light. Five minutes later it was much easier to see. Quietly as possible he and Michonne used a conveniently placed claw hammer lying atop one of the crates to pry off the lid. Inside, packed in straw, were a few boxes of ammo that perfectly matched his revolver. Michonne tapped his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water. The seal on the lid had never been opened so he wasn’t quite as concerned about drinking it.

“I’ve got 40 rounds now,” he said, loading his gun and sitting down on the hard wooden bench by the wall. He patted the bench next to him and Michonne sat down.

“Don’t you want to look through the other crates?”

Rick nodded. “Give the walkers outside a chance to wander off. I don’t want to make too much noise and get trapped in this room with them busting down the door.”

She nodded and crossed her legs. Rick didn’t hold out hope for idle conversation. Michonne was a laconic woman and he appreciated that. It was good to be in the company of someone who could appreciate comfortable silence, and also someone who get to the point without piling on a bunch of bullshit before they did. Lori had possessed that same quality.

When she did finally speak, after the sound of the walkers outside began to subside, she brought up the one subject he’d hoped she’d ignore. Then again that was what he appreciated about her. She always got to the point. She just went right for the jugular of whatever animal she faced.

“You kissed me,” she said.

Rick shrugged, playing it off, knowing she wouldn’t buy it. “I was just grateful you saved our asses.”

Michonne nodded. He expected her to press the issue at least a little, and she did, a smile tugging at her lips. Her lips...they were beautifully full and now he knew how soft they were against his. “You kiss all the women who save your bacon?”

Rick grinned. “No.”

A rare smile tugged at Michonne’s lips. “Well, I feel all special now.”

Without another word she got up and began opening crates. Rick joined her, ready to look at what their captors had provided behind door number 3.

*****

Rick and Michonne had used the bench to lay out every item in the crates so they could catalog what they had.

-Four boxes of ammo for Rick’s revolver.

Two large and scalpel sharp hunting knives with six inch blades and rubber grip handles.

-Six candles

-Two full lighters

-A pack of beef jerky containing four long pieces

-A six pack of bottled water, two of which they’d already drank

-One backpack

-An old soda bottle with a screw lid filled with motor oil

-A watch with the correct time and date.

Rick eyed the watch. According to it the calendar Carl had been keeping was off by only two days. He felt a sense of pride for his boy for doing a good job at keeping track of time. It was hard to explain how much of a comfort it was to keep track of something from the civilized world, even if it was only the day of the week, month, and year.

“What’s with the oil?” Michonne asked.

“I don’t know but it may come in handy. Have a bite,” he said, passing her a stick of jerky. They were both hungry but it also made them thirsty. They finished off the bottles of water Michonne had passed out earlier.

“We’ve lost the light,” she said. “It might be better for us to move around in the dark. The walkers have shit vision in the day but they’re even easier to confuse in the dark and we’d evade whoever is pulling the strings around here. We may even find a way to sneak off.”

“If we knew the layout, yeah, I’d agree. We don’t know this town…You’re kidding me.”

There was a piece of paper sticking out of the straw in one of the crates. He’d assumed it was used for packing but now, in the dim light of the candle he’d lit, he could see it was a map of Charlesville. There were places marked with an X and the numbers 1-5.

“We’re here,” he said, pointing at #3.

“We need to study this map, memorize every bit of it,” Michonne said. “I’ll take first watch, two hours, while you study the map.”

“I’ll take over at 8:30.”

She nodded. They planned to frog-leap that night. While they took turns sleeping. When dawn came they would make their first move. At some point, Rick knew, whoever orchestrated this game would have to do or say something reveal themselves and their motives. All they needed to do was stay alive until that time came.




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