Winter Pt 6

 “I haven’t woken up in a soft bed and a warm room in two years,” Rick said.

It had been that long since he’d awoken in a soft bed and a warm room with a woman beside him but he left that part out. It was nice, lying there in the weak light of early evening, a soft mattress and pillows beneath him, a warm blanket over him, and a warm body beside him. Rick could easily pretend that life was normal. Outside society was whole and, even though populated by a lot of fucked up people, they were alive fucked up people and only a blessed tiny percentage of them were freak enough to want to eat human flesh.

In that normal world the dead knew their place -- the grave -- and they very kindly stayed there.

Rick rolled over and looked at Michonne’s still form. She laid staring at the opposite wall, occasionally blinking or nudging her head deeper into the pillow, but she didn’t respond.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“I saw some coffee in the shelf,” she responded. “I’ll go make a couple of cups and then we’ll set out to search the other numbered doors.”

“Michonne, we need to talk about what happened.”

“Why, Rick?” she asked with clear exasperation. “It happened. It’ll probably happen again. It’s just a part of this fucked up situation. There. We’ve talked about it. Can we drop it now?”

He followed her to the kitchen but remained silent. He felt like a scared lost puppy trailing after a woman he hoped would adopt him, even if it meant getting kicked once in a while, and it pissed him off that she made him feel that way, even if she didn’t intend it, because he understood that she wouldn’t give a shit if she knew.

“We have eggs and butter here,” he said sullenly. “I’ll scramble some up while you make the coffee.”

Her answer was more cold shoulder while he set about cooking on the hotplate. She boiled water for the coffee. Cheap cutlery clinked on glass as they went about the ritual of cooking in silence. They ate in equal silence. He took the map and shrugged on his coat after they’d eaten and put his ear to the door to listen for any movement on the other side. It was quiet but that didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t until the flashlight revealed the staircase was empty did they start downstairs, and it wasn’t until they reached the storeroom did they see the group of walkers milling about on the street outside. Rick quickly extinguished his flashlight before he could draw their attention.

The phone on the wall rang sharply in the quiet night. Michonne leapt over the counter, past a large box with an elaborately tied white bow, and snatched the receiver off the cradle before it could sound a second time. The walkers on the street turned in their direction and approached the glass, looking in, uncertain of where the noise came from. Their dead eyes searched for movement. Both Rick and Michonne held absolutely still. The glass on the door and shop front would give quickly under a mob of walkers that size, and so would the upstairs door should they break in and ascend the stairs to the small apartment above.

Rick’s body sagged in relief when the walkers decided there was nothing of interest inside and went back to skulking in the snow dusted street.

“What?” Michonne whispered, finally putting the receiver up to her hear.

“You may speak freely,” the woman on the other end replied. The glass is shatter proof. This is your safe haven. They cannot get in unless I remotely open the door to allow them access.”

The threat was blatant. Their safety, such as it was, depended completely upon her.

“What’s your name?”

She surprised Michonne with a quick response. “Evelyn.”

“Well, Evelyn, what do you want from us?”

“I want to be entertained. TV is a thing of the past and will not return for decades, perhaps even a century, when mankind has overcome the curse of rotters and reasserted itself. A lady needs something to do to pass the time.”

“You consider yourself a lady?”

Evelyn laughed. “Well of course, Mon cher.”

“You obviously don’t want us to leave this so-called safe-haven. Why is that?”

“I want my enjoyable fuck,” Evelyn answered. “I want to watch you and this man screw in a way that thrills me. I want my graphic love scene, my pornography, something I can finger myself to until I get off in time with you.”

Michonne’s stomach turned. “You’re disgusting.”

Rick tilted his head as if to say is-it-really-a-good-idea-to-insult-our-captor?

Evelyn responded with genuine mirth. “So I’ve been told. I consider myself sexually liberated. It doesn’t matter. I’ve left something to help you and your handsome partner man along in giving me what I want. Retrieve the box at the end of the counter and take it upstairs. Once I’m satisfied with your display I will remove the rotters and allow you both to continue on your quest.”

The line went dead. Michonne hung up the receiver.

“She says--”

“Shhh!”

“The glass is shatter proof. They can’t get in unless she remotely opens the door,” Michonne informed him. “Grab that box. We have to go back.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain upstairs.”

*****

Daryl Dixon scanned the trees ahead, looking for any sign of threat. He had keen eyes, and he knew how to spot shapes that didn’t belong, but that didn’t keep him from being wary to take each and every step forward. Hell, for all he knew, some asshole had him lined up in a perfect kill shot right there.

The ground between the trees was a pristine blanket of snow about an inch thick. That wasn’t deep enough to cover any tracks left behind if someone had come through when the snowfall first started, but with the ground being frozen like ice anyone could have come and gone leaving no tracks before the snow began to fall.

Maggie was panting fearfully behind him. He turned to her, the sound loud in his ears, and made a shushing motion. She frowned and gave him a “what?” look.

“Don’t breathe so hard,” he whispered.

She pursed her lips, not amused, but nodded.

Daryl looked back. The truck was no longer in sight. They’d moved so slowly, so carefully, it seemed they should have been miles away by now but they’d only progressed a few hundred yards. Daryl motioned for Maggie and Glenn to come in close.

“I’m going to scout ahead. If you hear anything only one of you come running my way. The other get back to the truck and start it, have it ready to go. I don’t care which one but don’t spend five minutes fighting about who’s coming after me. Just do it.”

They both nodded and watched Daryl move ahead. They took shelter behind trees opposite the narrow path and waited, straining to hear any manmade sounds. Glenn could swear he heard a clicking sound, and something that sounded like the soft sound of servos, but passed it off as his imagination. Nobody had electricity anymore, and if they did, they wouldn’t waste it on surveillance cameras.

“Spsst!”

He looked at Maggie, who pointed ahead and above. He couldn’t see anything so she motioned at him to come to her.

“Daryl,” she whispered.

He immediately turned and darted back in her direction, moving swiftly but silently.

“We’ve been found out,” Maggie said.

“How you figure?” asked Daryl.

“Camera.”

They both looked in the direction she pointed. Neither man saw anything but both thought she was imagining it.

“Wait until it moves. Fifth branch up on that tree,” she said, clearly annoyed.

“I see it,” Daryl said, almost at once.

“I don’t -- oh, yeah,” Glenn amended. The camera moved, sweeping from left to right. It stopped on them and held perfectly still.

“The jig is up,” Daryl said, not bothering to be quiet. He made sure his gun was ready to fire and motioned toward Charlesville town proper. “Let’s run. Stay under the cover of trees, keep low, weave and bob, make yourselves harder targets.”

The three took a few deep breaths and then took off into the trees, running full tilt toward Charlesville.

*****

“What’s in the box?”

“Let’s hope it isn’t the severed head of one of our own,” Michonne replied.

Rick frowned. “What?”

“The movie Seven? Brad Pitt?”

He still shook his head again, still clueless.

“Never mind.”

“Stop joking and tell me what’s in there.”

The first thing Michonne pulled out was a pair of handcuffs. Then she took out a whip, a leather dog collar with silver spikes, chains, and a bottle of personal lubricant.

“My God,” Rick said, turning away from the items.

“There’s more.”

“I don’t want to see.”

“Wake up, Rick. We’re dealing with a sick woman. We can’t ignore this so let’s face it head on.”

He reluctantly turned to face Michonne again. This time she pulled out a flat white box and set it aside. A note had been taped to it.

For a softer touch. Whichever tickles your fancy. I prefer it rough but we can work up to that.

-Evelyn

Michonne lifted the lid on the box to reveal a silky white gown trimmed with red lace. Beneath that was a pair of men’s boxers, black, also made of silk. At the bottom of the box Michonne found a timer. It was at 24 hours fifteen minutes and counting down.

“I take it we have one day, fifteen minutes to give her the show she wants,” Michonne said.

“Looks like.”

The phone rang. Rick walked over to the receiver and picked it up. Evelyn’s voice spoke at once.

“The rotters have been taken to the forest to greet your friends. I suggest you not worry about them but take this opportunity to find the other doors. You will discover that answers lie behind them.”

She hung up.

Rick turned to Michonne. “Looks like we get to keep our clothes on a little while longer. She says some of our people were spotted heading in. Damn it.”

“Probably Daryl. He’s tough. So is the rest of the group.”

Rick shook his head. “There were probably thirty walkers in that bunch. They’ll be overwhelmed. Fuck, why did they come back?”

Michonne strapped her Katana to her back and passed him saying, “You would.”

She was right. He would have come back for his own. That didn’t mean he had to like it when others tried to make the sacrifice for him. 




Next Chapter