Winter Pt 4

Hershel stood on the fenced gangway and stared out at the prison perimeter. The view here was limited but important since it would offer an intruder, walker or living, easy access to the most densely populated areas of the prison now that the Woodbury survivors had joined them.

Ostensibly he was on guard duty, and guard he did, but in reality he’d volunteered for the shift to get a break from Ester and Betty, two sisters who’d spent a lifetime fighting over men. Even after the world went to hell they couldn’t change old habits. As soon as Ester saw Betty talking to Hershel it became a competition to see which one would win him. Neither woman considered the possibility that he wouldn’t want either of them. They annoyed him to no end but at least Beth and Maggie got a laugh out of it.

Escaping a couple of bothersome old birds wasn’t Hershel’s only reason to long solitude. He was grieving. The old adage about not knowing what you’ve got until it was gone had never seemed truer to Hershel than right now. He’d come to love Rick and his group. With the exception of Shane Walsh, every time they lost someone it hit Hershel hard. Still, Glenn and Rick were closer to him than any of the others had been. In his heart he’d adopted them, and little Carl, too, as his own family.

Rick wasn’t the only one he mourned. Michonne had more than earned her place not only in the group, but in his heart and life as well, and though she hadn’t been with them long she’d proven to be valuable as more than a warrior to defend the prison. She was good to talk to because she listened without judging. Also, he knew she didn’t give a shit about other people’s business so whatever so-called big secrets someone shared with her were most likely just filed away in the junk drawer of her extraordinarily logical mind.

“You know about Rick and Michonne.”

Hershel started and almost lost his balance. It was easy for him to forget that he had one leg missing and he tried, now, to step on it as he turned to face Daryl Dixon. Having been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard Daryl’s approach. He reached out and caught Hershel before he could land embarrassingly on his ass.

“Thank you. Last thing I need is a broken hip. If that ever happens you have my permission to just shoot me on the spot,” he informed Daryl. “What can I do for you?”

Daryl leaned against the railing and looked out onto the narrow view of the fence. Walkers milled about, an ever-present threat that sometimes drove Daryl nuts, not that he’d let it show. He wasn’t gonna pussy out and throw a fit and show his feelings and all that crazy shit like Carol had tried to get him to do. He’d thought, after all they’d gone through with Sophia, she’d realize it took a helluva lot to drive him to tears.

Then there was Tyrese. He didn’t care for the way the two of them looked at one another any more than Carol liked the way he and Karen looked at one another. That was a situation Daryl had never been in before and truth be told, he didn’t know what to do with it.

“I’ve long since feared the day we lost Rick Grimes,” Hershel said, bringing Daryl’s thoughts back to the issue at hand and reminding him why he’d sought the old man out in the first place. Rick had trusted his advice. Now he’d have to learn to. “He wasn’t perfect, none of us is, but he was the best thing to come out of all this tragedy and horror.”

“Agreed,” Daryl said, nodding.

“I have the feeling you’re not here to reminisce about our fallen leader. I also have the feeling you’re in no hurry to become the new Sheriff.”

Daryl turned and crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Hershel. “I told Glenn I was gonna punch the next one to call me Sheriff in the face.”

Hershel grinned broadly and winked. “I know. I heard you say it.”

“I’ll make an exception in your case.”

“Much appreciated.”

Daryl was taking a little longer than usual to get to the point and Hershel noticed it. Perhaps it was coming to him for advice, mimicking Rick’s habits as he prepared to step into the impressive shoes Rick had left behind, that made Daryl so hesitant to speak his mind. Regardless of why, Hershel waited patiently, knowing the words would come in their own time.

“I don’t want to take over. Not if there’s a choice.”

“Is this a job offer?” Hershel said with some measure of disquiet.

He’d assumed Daryl understood the rarely mentioned chain of command within their group. Rick, Shane, Daryl, Glenn, Lori, and then Hershel, that was the hierarchy. Shane and Lori’s deaths had taken them out of the equation but Glenn was still next in line, regardless.

“Age and wisdom often go hand in hand but so does leadership and experience. I’m not qualified for this job, Daryl. You are.”

“You’re gonna have to be, old man, at least until I get back.”

“Get back from where?”

Hershel sighed as he realized the answer to his own question. When he and Daryl looked one another in the eye a long explanation of what he had planned became moot.

“They were alive when Maggie drove off.”

Hershel was immediately defensive. “She had no choice, Daryl. It was Rick and Glenn’s call. She obeyed orders.”

“She did right, don’t mistake me. I know that. When Rick and I were still strangers he risked everything, his own life and losing his family, to save my brother who was a stranger to him. He risked it because it was the right thing to do. I owe Rick that much. We all do.”

“You want to take my kids off with you on a suicide mission.”

“Everyone thought going after Merle was a suicide mission. Turns out it wasn’t.”

Hershel nodded. “True, but look at the losses we suffered because you, Rick, and Glenn weren’t there that night. Daryl, just as I would do with Rick I shall do with you: I’ll follow your orders. I just hope to God you’re not acting on some sense of guilt--”

“I’m acting on fealty. Didn’t you use that word once when talking about everyone obeying Rick? We owed him our featly? You were right when you said that.”

Hershel sighed at having his own words thrown back in his face.

“I’ll take care of your kids if they decide to go.”

“You know Glenn and Maggie. They won’t let you run off alone. They’re the young lions of our little Petri dish society here at the prison. Defending the people is their job. It’s your job too.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Daryl said, every word packed with intensity. “I’m defending our people. Rick and Michonne need their people now more than they ever have, even if it means just bringing back their bones to rest with their people. If we can’t do that much for those we call family then what are we worth?”

Hershel was convinced by the argument but he didn’t have to like it. He said as much. “Give them the choice they’ll go with you, I understand that. Still, give them the choice.”

Daryl nodded. “We’re losing the light. We’ll move in the morning. Tonight I’m going to ask for volunteers. Now you come on inside. I’ll send one of the trainees out here to stand guard for a few hours.”

Hershel shook his head but obeyed, dreading Esther and Betty nearly as much as he did hearing his kids volunteer to go off on a recovery mission for walker chewed corpses. Still, those corpses were family and if Hershel was honest with himself, he wanted them back too.

*****

“Looking for these?”

Carl froze in place, realizing he’d been caught in the act of ransacking the locker where the keys were kept. Only the core group knew where the locker was and what was inside it. He’d searched three times and couldn’t find the keys to a single vehicle.

“Yeah, actually. Thanks,” he said, holding out a hand to Beth. He didn’t really expect her to drop the keys into his hand but he still tried.

“You can’t go off after your dad alone.”

“If it was your dad, what would you do?”

Beth hesitated. “I’d wait and see what Daryl has planned first.

“That’s the difference between us, then. I’m not waiting for Daryl to take days to decide if he wants to go back after Dad’s body. If there’s anything left…”

Beth hung the keys back in the locker and then shut the door.

“I’ll take them as soon as you’re gone.”

She nodded and put her arms around his neck. She was still a little taller than him but she didn’t care.

“Daryl has called a meeting in half an hour to talk to the group. He’s going to decide what to do about Rick and Michonne. Make me a promise, Carl: Wait to see what Daryl has to say. If he decides not to go back for your dad and Michonne then I’ll help you steal a car and go with you to get them back. I give you my word.”

Carl wasn’t sure what to say or, even, what to feel. He had a lot of emotion bubbling up in his chest and he didn’t know quite how to deal with them. Gratitude and love mixed with something he’d feeling a lot lately; a certain tightness in his trousers that ached sweetly. He often woke up with a sticky mess in the morning after dreaming about Beth’s, and sometimes Maggie’s, naked bodies dancing and moving around him and against him. He liked those dreams.

“You’d do that for me?”

She nodded. “I will, but only if you promise to see what Daryl has to say. If you take off before that I’ll never speak to you again.”

Never speaking meant never kissing or touching and that was the last thing Carl wanted. He’d wait for Daryl to come to a decision. He trusted Beth to keep her word, too. If Daryl pussied out then he and Beth would go after his dad on their own.

“We’ve got thirty minutes. Want to try something new?” Beth said.

“Like what?”

She looked around and made sure they were alone before undoing his jeans and slipping her hand inside his underwear.

Carl sighed, all thought suddenly gone from his mind at the touch of Beth’s hand.

*****

Daryl stopped in front of Karen’s cell. She’d given Maggie the key in case she panicked and tried to run. She sat on her bunk, fitted with extra padding from a few other bunks to make it comfortable, a large, leather-bound book resting on her lap.

“What you reading?”

“Don Quixote, original, not that shit English translation,” she replied, smiling.

“We should have raided Woodbury’s library.”

She laughed. “Don’t bother. Some poorly written romance paperbacks, a few old math books, some bibles, and this gem are all that really survived the fire.”

They shared a long look. They both knew why he was here. She put the book down and approached the cell, linking her arms through it. The scratch on her forearm looked like it was healing well enough.

“That’s scabbing over nicely,” Daryl commented. “How do you feel?”

“Never felt better. No fever, no hallucinations. Still, it’s too early to tell.”

He nodded his agreement and caught movement from the corner of his eye. Carol was talking to Tyrese. She leaned against a wall while he stood too close for Daryl’s comfort, one hand on the wall above Carol so that their bodies were close. Carol didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“What does she mean to you?” Karen asked bluntly.

“A lot,” he said honestly.

“What do you mean to her?”

“I thought I meant a lot too. Guess I was wrong.”

Karen smiled and nodded. “If I turn out okay maybe I could mean a lot to you, too.”

Daryl took in a deep breath and tried not to look too pleased before saying, “Maybe.” He walked away, fairly sure that Karen was going to be all right. Even better, she was as attracted to him as he was to her. That put a real pep to his step as he walked past Carol and Tyrese, offering them a nod as he went.

“Meeting’s in five,” he said in passing. He wondered what Carol’s game was. Had he taken too long to move on her? Did he still want to? If he did what would happen with Karen? He hadn’t made any promises. Not making promises was something he’d learned from Merle that was actually valuable when it came to women. All the rest of his brother’s advice had been shit that proved he’d understood women about as much as he understood trigonometry.

“Listen up,” Daryl said, addressing the group as Carol and Tyrese made their way down. Maggie, Glenn, Beth, and Hershel sat up front, though Carl, he noticed, stood at the back of the crowd with his arms crossed and a cold look on his face. Daryl remembered a time when the boy smiled, before all the shit, before death took his mother and, for a while, madness took his father. Hopefully they’d find Rick and Michonne alive and the boy would have a reason to smile again.

Now that he had their attention, now that all eyes were literally on him, Daryl forgot what he’d intended to say. Everyone sat or stood staring at him, the defacto leader, waiting for him to take charge. They waited for orders, for him to provide structure so that it didn’t feel like they were all just flapping in the wind, so that they didn’t feel like the shit that was rushing toward the spinning blades of the fan. The truth was, and Daryl knew it, the fabric of society really had been reduced to jagged, rotted strips and there was no one to sew it back together again.

“Two of ours is lost. Our leader, Rick, and one of our best people, Michonne, had to be left behind and for damn good reason,” he added, nodding at Maggie and Glenn’s guilty face. “They were last seen alive and with a fighting chance. That fighting chance disappears pretty quick in a situation like theirs so I’ve made a decision: I’m gonna go back for them. If they’re still alive, if they found a safe place, they won’t be alive for long if they don’t get help. It’s a long road home from Charlesville. Even if they got out of town they could die on the return trip.”

Carl had stopped slouching and now stood with his back straight and a look of hope in his eyes. One man, George or Geoff or whoever, Daryl could never remember the man’s name, raised his hand. Daryl considered ignoring him but knew Rick wouldn’t. He nodded.

“Yeah, George?”

“Geoff,” the man snootily corrected.

“Whatever. What do you want?”

“I think it’s a mistake for you to leave the prison. You’re in charge now.”

“That’s right. I’m in charge and I call the shots,” Daryl sort of agreed. He wondered what the group would say if he decided to toss this fucker out on his ass. They probably wouldn’t like it.

“It’s nothing more than a suicide mission,” Geoff pressed. “Why risk your life, and your people’s safety, to recover a couple of bodies?”

“Fuck you, that’s my dad!” Carl shouted. He moved toward Geoff and Daryl wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if he literally attacked the older man.

“Watch your mouth, Carl,” Daryl warned lazily. Truth was his heart wasn’t in it to correct the boy since Carl had pretty much said what he wanted to anyway.

Carl backed down, electing to move to the front of the group, and Geoff looked relieved.

“Anyway, I’m asking for--”

“I’m sorry, but I really must continue to object,” Geoff said.

“And I really must tell you to shut the fuck up,” Daryl replied, a little more heat in his voice. “I ain’t here to ask for anybody’s opinion or permission. I’m here to tell you what’s going on. Now, I’m asking for volunteers to go--”

“I’m in,” Carl said predictably. Daryl would deal with him in a minute, in private.

He saw Geoff start to open his mouth and knew this old dude was gonna be trouble. He pointed right at Geoff. “You, shut up or leave. Everybody else, pay attention.”

Geoff huffed, literally huffed, and sat down, folding his arms and looking put out.

“No more interruptions,” Hershel said. He got to his feet and crutched his way over to stand beside Daryl. It was a visual cue, a literal show of loyalty and solidarity, and Daryl was grateful for it.

“Go on,” Hershel encouraged.

“I’m not forcing anyone to go and you don’t need to feel guilty for staying behind. I understand. Is there anyone who wants to join me?”

Perhaps the people thought if no one volunteered, no one besides a thirteen year old boy, Daryl would back down and elect to stay. That proved they didn’t know him at all.

Maggie raised her hand, Glenn soon after. Even Beth volunteered. Soon as she did, Tyrese held up a hand, as did a few others. Daryl nodded in approval. The most able bodied of the Woodbury survivors offered to risk their lives for a man they didn’t really know. Daryl had a feeling they’d become real family to the core group while the others remained burdens to house and feed.

“I’m keeping the group small. Maggie, Glenn, Tyrese, you’re with me. Everyone else will be assigned duties by Hershel. Listen up, this is important: Hershel is in charge. Beth is his second in command. You’ll obey them the same as you would me or Rick. When we get back, and we will get back with or without Michonne and Rick, I’d better not find out you gave Hershel and Beth trouble. If you did you’ll answer directly to me. Understood?”

The people nodded or just stared.

“Understood?” Daryl pressed, his voice hard.

“Understood,” the people said in unison, sensing it wouldn’t be a good idea to cross the man with the crossbow.

He looked at Beth. She looked more scared at the idea of staying behind in a leadership position than going off to fight zombies on what everyone believed was a suicide mission. She approached Daryl and whispered so that he had to lean down just to hear her.

“I can’t boss people around. Almost all of them are older than me,” she said.

Daryl didn’t show her any sympathy. “Learn how. The day may come when you’re the one they answer to because everyone else is dead. You’re not the type to wimp out, Beth, so don’t start now.”

She swallowed and nodded.

“That’s it. Everybody get outta here. I got plans to make,” Daryl said by way of dismissal.

“You forgot me,” Carl said. His eyes were thunderous. “I’m not staying behind, Daryl, and you’re not tricking me into staying.”

“Do I have to lock you away?” Daryl asked.

“You wouldn’t do that. This is my dad--”

“That’s right, your dad. He risked everything so you could be safe. How do you think he’d feel to see you in the rescue party? If he’s dead then you’re all Ass Kicker has left. You can’t just think about yourself anymore, Carl. Part of being a man is putting other people ahead of yourself. Are you a man or a selfish little prick?”

Carl swallowed at the sudden surge of shame in his belly. He hadn’t thought of Judith at all. He remembered his dad, back on Hershel’s farm, telling him that his parents were going to die one day. If his dad was gone now then he really was all the family his sister had left in the world.

“I’m going after Rick,” Daryl said, putting a hand on Carl’s shoulder. “I may never come back. Hershel will need tough backup. Beth and Judith will need you to be the man in their lives. It’s a lot to ask of somebody your age but I think you’re ready to man up. I’m not just talking shit either. It’s how the world is now. You live fast, hard, you grow up early or you don’t grow up at all.”

Carl nodded, knowing Daryl was right, but he still hated it. He wanted to go after his dad. He wanted to save him. He hadn’t been any help to Sophia or his mom. Now he felt like he was failing his father by staying behind. He’d be failing Judith if he left with Daryl and got himself killed. He’d even be failing his father’s memory if that happened.

After all his determination to save his father himself, Carl made a hard choice: He put aside his pride to let someone else go after his dad. Whatever news they came back with -- if they came back at all -- he’d accept. He wouldn’t have any other choice.

*****

At 5:45 in the morning Rick Grimes awoke to see Michonne sitting in the corner looking tired. He still had fifteen minutes left to rest but he didn’t try to fall back asleep. Instead he thought of his son, his daughter, and those he’d lost to this damned plague. He also allowed his mind to wander to what he wanted from this life. It didn’t have much to offer but there was one thing he needed that he denied himself: sex.

He felt guilty at times, thinking of fucking another woman when his wife hadn’t been dead six months, but the truth was his marriage had been over long before that. He and Lori hadn’t had sex since their fallout. That was well over a year.

He regretted now allowing his marriage to dissolve but he wasn’t going to accept blame totally on himself. Lori was dead but he didn’t make her a saint after the fact. She’d made mistakes. She’d hurt him in ways no one else on earth could. He’d forgiven her infidelity because he’d known Shane had lied her into it. He’d even forgiven her for the lingering looks she used to give Shane before his death. He hadn’t, however, been able to forgive her for pushing him away, turning cold, when she found out he’d killed Shane rather than allowing Shane to kill him.

The Woodbury survivors had been elderly and the young. Karen was really the only younger woman suited to his age that was attractive and unattached but it was clear something was brewing below the surface between her and Daryl. Carol had been taken, in a sense, also by Daryl. Even if she hadn’t, Rick hadn’t wanted to mislead Carol into thinking he could ever truly love her. He didn’t want to use the women who looked to him for safety and guidance, for survival, to satisfy his needs. He wasn’t that kind of man.

Then there was Michonne. In retrospect he realized she’d caught his eye from the moment he’d seen her at the gate with the baby formula. Covered in blood, wielding a sword and a basket with food for Judith…she’d been dark skinned and fiercely beautiful. His parents had always frowned on interracial dating. He’d been brought up not to be prejudiced but to date and marry his own kind. He’d never thought to go against his parents’ teachings on that particular subject, though he’d often looked upon women of color and different races with a desire to experience the forbidden.

He and Lori had married young. Too young. Neither of them had experienced life. They’d just done what all people in a small town do -- they paired off, got married, had a kid, got a job, paid a mortgage and called it life.

Now, though, worrying about what color somebody was before you could date them seemed stupid to Rick. In fact, it had always seemed stupid but he’d never had the guts to question it. His parents were dead, the world was dead, and there was no reason to keep up with the old ways. If he met someone and wanted to be with them then he should, regardless of the shade of their skin.

Michonne invaded Rick’s dreams. It was always her hand that he imagined on his cock when he slipped into his bunk late at night, after everyone fell asleep. It was always her body he imagined under or over his when he closed his eyes and stroked himself to climax. It was her lips against his when he kissed a woman in his fantasies. It was her mouth on him when…

Rick pulled his thoughts back to the present. He was getting hard and how the fuck would he explain that to Michonne? He could claim morning wood if he claimed anything at all. He didn’t want to get into that now, anyway. Besides, he didn’t think she was really interested in him. He figured she found him and his quite obvious crush amusing more than anything else.

“You okay?” she asked.

He saw the twinkle in her eyes. Damn, she had a wickedly mischievous side. “Why?”

“You were panting,” she said. Her eyes went to the obvious bulge in his jeans and she smiled before turning back to the door.

“I didn’t pant. I just need to go,” he replied, feeling his face heat up.

“You’re a man. You can use one of the empty water bottles,” she said.

“Do you want to go out?”

Michonne frowned and turned to him. Rick realized how that sounded and immediately corrected.

“Out there, I mean, see if we can’t find a way out of here.”

Or had he actually asked her on a date? God knows there was nowhere to take her. Not now. Not with the world gone to hell.

“I’m ready for it if you are,” she said. She situated her katana and waited for him to finish peeing. He tried not to feel embarrassed at such a basic function. He tried not to get even harder when he caught her quickly looking away.

She’d snuck a peek, he was sure of it. Did she like what she saw? He had to wonder.

*****

Rick opened the door as quietly as possible, thankful the hinges weren’t rusty and squeaky, and peered outside. Snow had begun to fall, dusting everything in a light, white film of flaky ice. Rick’s breath clouded in front of his face in short, quick puffs, and his eyes hurt as the cold of the air tried to freeze all moisture on his face, including in his eyes. He blinked and saw that the walkers at the end of the alley were almost perfectly still.

“We stay together,” he said. She nodded agreement.

He closed the door marked #3. They needed to raid the nearest marked door, #5, which was down one street and over two. The light coating of snow masked the sound of their footsteps as they crept toward the statue still walkers. Rick would give anything for some gloves. His hands were already going numb. Michonne, he noticed, had brought a pair with her from the prison. If he lost use of his hands then she would be the one to keep them alive until he could find a place to warm them.

He quietly took out two of the walkers with his knife by stabbing them through their heads and then lowering their bodies to the ground so as not to make a lot of noise. That cleared the way for them to move closer to #5. Rick’s guts were wound tight as a spring as he and Michonne snuck through the shadows. At any moment whoever orchestrated this hellish game could do any number of things to draw walker attention to them.

The cold was a blessing. The walkers had no way of keeping warm and the intensity of winter could sometimes literally freeze them to the ground or make it nearly impossible for them to move. Even their instincts seemed to hibernate in extreme cold. They were slow and “sleepy” during the night, which made it a perfect time to move about.

“Number 5,” Michonne said, nodding at the door to a shop near the end of a deserted street. There were no cars, only empty soda cans and bits of paper that littered the asphalt in front of the old-fashioned wood and glass shop windows. It looked like Charlesville hadn’t changed much since the 20’s, which was when the shops looked like they first opened for business.

“Too easy,” he said.

Michonne nodded agreement. “Still gotta try.”

Rick started to move forward but Michonne suddenly gripped him and pulled him behind a newspaper dispenser stood rusted, a three-year-old paper speaking of the strange virus that made the dead come back to life blaring across its yellowed front page. A man was moving ahead. It wasn’t the same man who had stopped them from leaving Charlesville. This man was black with short, neatly trimmed hair and a lean physique. He was young, too, maybe only 25 or 30 years of age. He was armed with a Romanesque broadsword. There was a battleaxe strapped to his back. He paced back into the shadows, moving out of the half-lit streetlight on the corner by the shop he guarded.

Was he aware of Rick and Michonne? Was he playing it off or did he really not know they were so close?

“I can take him,” Michonne said.

“You don’t know that. I don’t want to risk injury or drawing walkers with clanging swords. Let’s try to sneak around back.”

“Where are they?” Michonne said, wondering aloud more than questioning Rick.

“Who?”

“The walkers. There were only those two. What happened to the herd that trapped us here?”

“Someone is obviously controlling them,” said Rick. “We’ll worry about that later. Right now we need to see what’s behind the other doors.”

Michonne followed Rick back up the street. They stuck to the deep shadows and quietly made their way around back where they found the doors were locked. Rick hung his head.

“We have to go through that guy,” he said. “I can’t feel my hands.”

“I said I can take him.”

“I’ll find a way to warm my gun hand. If you start to lose I’m taking him out. Be as quiet--”

“As I can, I know. I will.”

Michonne and Rick didn’t bother with stealth as they approached the corner, taking it wide, putting space between themselves and the guard. Rick stopped while Michonne entered the halo of light from the street lamp.

She cleared her throat in a rather dainty way. The guard stopped pacing and turned to face her. At once he smiled and prepared his sword.

“Hello, handsome,” said Michonne. “May I have this dance?”




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