A United Front Chapter Two

Carl sat at the back of the store, his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise of the walkers that clamored to break inside. Their bony hands slapping at the glass, trying to get in, their hungry moans and angry hisses, all came together to transport him back to the worst day of his life. He was back there, in that bus, listening to his mother’s screams as she was ripped to pieces after sacrificing herself to give Carl a chance to get out.

You’re my good boy, she’d said to him. You’re going to beat this world. I know you will.

He didn’t feel like a good boy. He didn’t think he was strong enough to beat anything this world threw at him.

“Carl!”

He didn’t realize he was screaming until he opened his eyes and saw the look of concern in his father’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked.

“It’s just like that day, with Mom,” he sobbed. “It’s just like it. Them hitting the glass, trying to get in…”

“You’re in there here and now, with me,” Rick said, holding each side of his son’s face and tilting his head so that Carl had to look him in the eye. “Look at me Carl. You’re here, and now, and we’re gonna get through this.”

For the first time in almost two years Carl felt his father’s arms encircle him. They were big, and strong, and until now he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed his dad. He’d missed loving him rather than hating him, laughing with him, talking about everything under the sun with him. He wept as his father held him close. He wept all the bitterness, all the resentment and fear and regret, into his father’s chest, with his heart beating strong and steady under his ear. There was something ineffably comforting about the feel of his dad’s hand on his back, and the other hand tangled in his hair, and the feel of his father’s tears dropping onto his face, that felt like a soothing balm on an open sore.

For a whole year you’ve let your father believe you were dead without trying to find him, Michonne had said to him that morning. You’ve spent the past three months spitting in his face every chance you get. Your father is only human, Carl. He made a mistake. Don’t you think he’s paid for it? Don’t you think you’ve punished him enough?

That morning his answer had been no, he hadn’t punished his father enough. Now, at one of the worst moments he’d had since his mother died, even worse than the day he lost Sophia in many ways, his father had overlooked all the anger, the sass, and the hurt, to embrace him as though nothing had ever happened between them.

That meant everything to Carl.

“I’m here,” Rick said. “Dad’s here now. I’ll die before I let something happen to you. I know you hate me, Carl, but I love you. You have to know that I love you.”

One section of the double glass doors broke. Tyreese, Glenn, and Maggie struggled to keep the shelf in place, to hold the walkers out a little longer.

“We need ideas. Options,” said Hershel.

“Is there another way out?” Maggie asked.

“I’ll see,” said Michonne.

She looked at Carl with concern as she passed by and headed into what had once been a storage room. Now, the only thing left were two canisters of stale Bugler tobacco. She snatched them and put them in her satchel. She knew Daryl enjoyed a smoke, now and then, and Hershel looked like a man who wouldn’t say no to a pipe. She peered out the back door and found herself facing another herd of walkers. They saw her and lunged for the door, which she slammed shut and locked.

“What?” Rick asked, not liking the look on her face.

“There’s about thirty walkers out back.”

“How many out front?” Rick queried.

“I count twenty-two,” said Tyreese.

“That’s over fifty walkers,” said Michonne. “Shit.”

“We can hole up in the storeroom,” Michonne suggested. “It’s closed up with sturdy metal doors. There’s no way they could break them down.”

At that moment, the glass at the bottom of the left door gave away, as did the handle, which crashed to the ground with the broken glass.

“In back!” Rick ordered. He kept Carl close and ushered the others back, but Tyreese remained, using his knife to take out the walkers as they formed a scrum in the narrow opening. One after another they tried to pile in, and he took them out.

“Go,” said Michonne, nodding at Rick. She drew her sword and went to stand beside Tyreese, helping him cut down the walkers.

Carl pulled away from his father. “Keep her safe. Help her.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Rick said. “Not again.”

“And I don’t want to lose Michonne. Help her,” Carl said, and then headed for the storeroom with the others.”

“I’m with you,” Daryl said, drawing his knife.

Rick nodded, appreciating the show of solidarity.

The four of them continued hacking at the walkers, dealing out fatal head wounds that ended them once and for all.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Rick, as the last of the walkers tried to climb the pile of their dead brethren to get in at the living. “If the walkers in the back are distracted by noise from the storeroom, we can finish these off and have Dale drive the RV up. We can load our people in and then make a run for it.”

Tyreese nodded. “That might work.”

“Daryl, you’ll make a run for the Jeep when I give the word. Tyreese, you’ll head for the RV, tell Dale to pull up when I give the signal. Michonne, go to the storeroom, tell everyone to be ready to run, but first, make noise. Bang on the door, yell, get the walkers out back to concentrate on the storeroom.”

She ran to the back to give the word. Rick and Daryl cut down the last two walkers before pulling the shelf back and freeing up the other door. He handed Daryl the keys to the Jeep and then faced Tyreese. “If all else fails, try to distract the walkers by beeping the horn and driving off a few feet, beep the horn, drive off, lure them away, then circle back.”

“Got it.”

The ruckus from the storeroom was working because none of the walkers gathered out back made an effort to come around to the front of the building, even with the noise of the RV firing to life. It seemed to take forever for Dale to maneuver the land boat around to the front of the store, but soon enough it was parked in front.

“Go, Daryl,” Rick said.

Michonne, Beth, Hershel, Glenn, Maggie, and Carl rushed out. Michonne and Carl ran to the Jeep and climbed in while the others piled into the RV with Tyreese.

“Follow us!” Rick shouted to Dale before Hershel could slam the door shut.

Daryl peeled out of the parking lot, and Dale drove as quickly as possible to keep up, heading down the road toward home, just as the herd of walkers in back of the store came stumbling to the parking lot in hopeless pursuit of their prey.

Watching it all, from up the street, was a pair of watchful eyes sheltered from the golden glare of the sun by a pair of shades. He sucked on a cigar for a moment before climbing behind the wheel of his pickup and heading off in the opposite direction.

*****

Rick looked at Daryl, who steered down the road, half over the yellow line, not bothering to obey the old rules of the road, and that was fine with Rick.

“We did it,” Daryl said. “Or I should say, you did it.”

“You were right the first time. We did it,” Rick answered, and looked back at Carl. He sat in the back seat with Michonne and, to his surprise and delight, his son gave him a faint smile before leaning his head on Michonne’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

*****

There was something about almost dying that made Rick want to fuck. The sun had nearly set, the supplies were loaded into the house, and Carl was determined to heat up a can of chili he’d found in the canned goods. With him distracted, Rick took Michonne’s hand and led her outside to the back yard where a tool shed was kept loaded with knives as well as an old fashioned push mower.

“It’s been a good day,” she said, as he pulled the door shut behind them and secured it with a pin that would keep anyone outside from flinging the door open on them.

“My son is coming back to me and we’re all alive,” said Rick.

“That’s enough talk, isn’t it?” Michonne said with a smirk.

“It sure as hell is.”

He turned her around and pulled her against him, unzipped her pants, and shoved them down. He ran his hands over the flat plane of her belly before working them up under her shirt to gently roll her hardened nipples. She sighed and ground her wonderfully full ass against his aching cock.

Taking the hint, Rick freed himself from his jeans and pushed Michonne forward until she leaned over the workbench. She was warm and slick when he placed the head of his dick at her entrance. Slowly, tortuously, he slid his hardened length inside of her until he was buried balls deep in her.

“Oh,” she moaned.

She began to move against him, fast, and he began to pound into her. It was good, to feel the need and the tension build inside, but he needed to face her. He withdrew, earning a growl of frustration from Michonne.

“Look at me,” he said.

“In the last rays of sunset, in the darkened shed, she held his gaze as he slammed into her. She gripped his body with her powerful thighs, held herself up by bracing her hands on the workbench. Rick lifted her higher and drove himself into her with everything he had until he shuddered his release into her. Michonne kissed Rick and stroked his bearded face as the last of the light faded. 

*****

Rick and Michonne dressed silently in the dark, and then headed for the house, where a party was in progress. Dale had kept a case of Budweiser back for a special occasion, and it was chilling in a mini fridge that had been hooked up to a car battery. Carol stood cooking eggs from the chickens they kept, along with meat from a deer that Daryl had slaughtered the day before.

Beth, Rick noticed, leaned against Daryl, sipping a beer and catching up on everything that had happened since she’d been separated from her family. Andrea was deep in conversation with Tyreese and Sasha. Rick approached Carol and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded at first, then shook her head. “No. People keep asking me that and I'm trying to be. I really am.”

“I thought my son was dead for almost two years. I lost my wife. I know the pain you’re feeling,” he said. “I’m sorry to say it never leaves you. You just learn to accept it.”

She nodded and turned two large slabs of meat over in the skillet.

“You saved my boy. I can never thank you enough for that,” he said.

“You don’t have to thank me, Rick. I just hope you two can find your way back to each other.”

“After what happened today, I think we will.”

“Good,” she said, and turned back to cooking.The signal was clear. She wasn't in the mood for conversation, and he could respect that.

Rick went to relax with Michonne and a beer while the party continued on. They drank, they ate, they appreciated having family and food. Hershel eventually broke off from the group and came to sit across from Rick and Michonne on the deck. Above, the stars glittered serenely in the clear sky. Hershel studied them for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“Tell me about this man Beth is in love with,” he said. “Daryl Dixon. He's a lot older than her.”

“He’s older, but he’s a good man,” Rick said. “He kept Beth safe when she was brought into the first camp we lived in. Rape was a common occurrence there, thanks to the rules laid down by our former leader. Daryl took her in, kept her safe from the other men in camp. They fell in love. I can’t think of a more decent, loyal man than Daryl Dixon.”

“I agree,” Michonne added. “He’s saved all of us more than once. He’s a good provider. He's a good fighter.”

“He’ll always do right by my Bethie?” Hershel questioned.

Both Rick and Michonne nodded. Hershel seemed to accept it, which Rick was glad for. Hershel struck him as being a level-headed man. A decent man of honor and integrity. He must be, to have a daughter like Beth, Rick reasoned.

“I have concerns about what happened today,” said Hershel.

“Bad luck,” said Michonne, and finished her beer.

“No, I doubt luck had anything to do with it. We’ve been having some problems with a man named Micah Bishop. He’s got a gang of ten men that he runs with. They’re a bunch of cutthroats and thieves. They killed two people from our group, Otis and his wife, Patricia. They’d lived and worked on my farm for over twenty five years. They were good people, and Bishop killed them just to prove he’s stronger than me. He’s got a way of luring the walkers, manipulating them. He’s sicced them on our group before. Today felt like one of those attacks.”

“What does he look like?” asked Rick.

“Tall, black, strong--”

“He’s a dark-skinned black man?” asked Michonne. “Has a white tattoo of an eagle on his right arm?”

“Yes,” Hershel said. “You’ve had trouble with him too?”

She sat up, and Rick rubbed her back. “What is it?”

“I was out scouting once and saw a man like that in a fight with two men. He cut them both down with a machete. I didn’t interfere. I didn’t know who was in the right or the wrong. I just wanted to get back home without attracting attention. He wore sunglasses, even though it was cloudy out.”

Hershel was nodding. “Yes. He’s worn them every time I’ve seen him.”

“If this man is in the area, and he’s attacked us by siccing walkers on us,” Rick said, “he could show up here at any time. We need to tell our people. We’re probably already on his radar.”

“That would be a good idea,” said Hershel. “We don’t want everyone getting drunk and then have him show up with his gang.”

“Can he be reasoned with?” asked Rick.

Hershel shook his head. “No. He wanted me to give Maggie and Sasha over to his men to be gang raped. When I refused, he killed Otis and Patricia, and said the next time he demands something, and I refuse, he’d kill us all.”

“Let’s get inside, get our guns ready,” said Rick. “I’ll tell my people what you’ve told me.”

Rick soon realized he wouldn’t have to. 

“Daddy!” Maggie said, all but breaking through the back door. She looked terrified. “Bishop is here.”



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