Winter Pt 8

Rick hefted the backpack they’d picked up from behind door number three. It was loaded with the items they’d first collected. Now they were in front of door number one and, though it wasn’t locked, the hinges were rusted solid. Rick pulled out the bottle of motor oil and lightly sprinkled them with oil. After working it into the hinges the door finally opened with a minimum of noise. 

Inside was another storage room that had been emptied. Rick was about to suggest leaving when Michonne noted a door on the other side. Quietly they approached and listened for sound but heard nothing. Rick tested the door. It was unlocked.

“I’ll go first,” he offered.

Michonne shrugged. “Sure, Sir Lancelot.”

He pulled the door open and revealed a pharmacy. The shelves had been looted but they weren’t completely empty. They went inside, careful to keep noise to a minimum, and searched the shelves. There were essential items such as antibiotics, gauze and other bandages, ointments, and contraceptives. There was a note taped to the shelf. Rick opened it.

“Take the condoms. You need to be safe even in the end of the world.” He threw the note aside in disgust. “Funny.”

They loaded what they could into the backpack before Michonne went to the front door. Outside were two men and a woman, all armed with guns, milling about. The woman was short and stocky, well muscled, with spiky blond hair. The two men were young and lanky, dark haired with their faces sporting grizzle. Undoubtedly it was their attempt to look tougher than they probably were. She looked into the pharmacy and held up a hand, motioning for them to come out.

“They’re in front of door number two,” Michonne said. “What do we do? Make a run for it or go out?”

The woman looked impatient. She motioned for them to come out again. 

“Let’s go see what she wants.”

Outside the snow had started to fall in light, fluffy flakes. The woman offered Michonne her hand.

“I’m Lena. This is Grant and Bobby. You are?”

“What do you want?” Rick asked.

The woman lifted a thick, untrimmed eyebrow. “Just trying to be friendly.”

“Before you gun us down. How thoughtful,” Michonne responded.

“If we were going to gun you down we would have done it already,” Bobby said. 

“Like I said, what do you want?” Rick asked.

“We’re your team,” Grant answered. 

Michonne and Rick looked at one another for a long moment. “Sorry?” Rick said.

“Your team. You’re going to need a team for the rest of the game,” Lena explained.

“You think this is a game?”

“It’s one we’ve played a few times before,” Lena informed him. “Let’s get back to the safe house. We’ll explain more there.”

“Yeah,” said Grant, looking around. “Evy will probably have the rotters out by now.”

“We’re going to door number two, first.”

Grant shook his head. “That’s a bad idea. Evy doesn’t like anyone getting to more than one door in a day if she can help it. It rushes the game. Trust me; you don’t want to piss her off.”

“You’re on my team, you follow my orders. Door number two.”

Rick started across the street but Bobbie leveled his gun at him. “We’re going back to the safe house. You’re not getting me killed because you’re a stubborn dick.”

Now Lena and Grant had their guns leveled at Michonne. Rick bowed his head once. “Fine. Safe house it is.”

“I know a shortcut,” said Bobby. “Follow me.”

Lena brought up the rear while Grant situated himself between Rick and Michonne. They set off at a brisk pace, heading for an alleyway. Michonne had just enough time to see a few walkers emerge onto the street they’d been on moments before but they were a few blocks away.

“The walkers spotted us.”

“Walkers. Is that what you call them?” said Lena. “I like that. The walking dead. Walkers. Though I have to say, rotter seems more appropriate for what they are.”

When she didn’t get a response from either Rick or Michonne, Lena elected not to keep up the conversation. She fell silent as they wound their way through two more alleys, coming up on the safe house in short order. 

Once back in the apartment, Lena plopped down on the couch. “Make us some coffee, Grant. We’ve got a lot to tell our new playmates.”

*****

           “I was the first here,” Lena said. She was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. Grant had slung an arm behind her, stretching out and looking relaxed. It bothered Rick that they didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with what they were taking part in. 

“I was second, Bobby was in the fourth group to come through Charlesville,” Grant explained on a yawn. “Bobby, get that coffee, man.”

“It’s comin’, be patient.”

“What happened?”

Lena shrugged. “Same thing that happened to you guys. We had twelve people in our group. Evy took us all, captured me and my wife, Cate, and then had the rest of our group bitten by the rotters. She said she needed more to add to her pets since she’d had to wipe out most of the ones that were already here when she first moved in. She played the game with us. I won.”

“And your wife?” Rick asked. “What happened to her.”

“She didn’t make it. Died saving me.”

“Then our group came through,” said Grant. “We had over twenty people but she took all but two of ours out. Me and a friend named Liza were left.”

Rick and Michonne spared one another a glance. “She takes a man-woman pair?”

“Or a gay pair,” said Lena. “I’m bisexual, actually. Not that it means anything. Just sayin’.”

“I came through alone and survived. Lena here was my partner,” said Bobby. “Evy likes Lena so she let us both live.”

“What’s the endgame?” Michonne asked.

“The arena,” Bobby said. “You and your partner have to fight to the death against a herd of rotters. Sorry. Walkers, as you call ‘em, boss. Our job is to help you make it to the arena. After that it’s all on you. Only one of you is allowed to live. After that you’re given a choice. You can join Evy or she puts you down.”

“Nobody ever turned on her?” Michonne asked, looking at Lena. “The woman killed your wife. You never thought to get revenge?”

“Sure I did. For a long time I did. But then I realized something: This world has gone to hell. You do what you can to survive as long as possible. Evy offers safety. We have warm homes, food, some basic comforts like hot baths and toilet paper.”

Rick made a sound of disgust and raked his hand through his hair. “You kill people for hot baths and fucking toilet paper?”

Lena shrugged with a smirk. “Like I said, you do what you have to do.”

The phone on the wall rang. Bobby picked it up. “Hey, Evy. Sure, he’s right here.” He held out the receiver to Rick. “For you.”

“What?” he said, taking the receiver from him.

“I want to be entertained. You have a choice. You can have an orgy, or you and your lovely Nubian beauty can give me a private show in the bedroom.”

There was a click. The line was dead. “I need a word with you,” he told Michonne.

“She wants her show. Orgy or one-on-one,” said Lena knowingly. “We know the drill.”

“I’m not having an orgy,” said Rick, nodding at Michonne to join him in the bedroom.”

Lena eyed Michonne with open appreciation. “Too bad, but you’re the boss.”

*****

          Hershel Greene thought he could imagine how King Soloman must have felt when he had two women squabbling over a baby and he had to make a decision to figure out which woman was the true mother. He’d been forced into ‘holding court’ to solve conflicts in the group since court had been his suggestion in the first place. He’d hoped Carol would take on the job since she was, in his opinion, better suited for the job. She was tough but fair, and she was a lot more at ease with disciplinary matters.

Now he had five very angry people standing before him in the cafeteria, and all of them were yelling at the same time. He exchanged an exasperated look with Beth. She’d been left in charge with him and was now in the same boat he was. 

She picked up a gavel one of the Woodbury survivors had whittled from wood once he’d heard that they would have a day of court to settle disputes twice a month. This was the first time it had been used. 

Beth pounded the gavel on the table. “Quiet!”

“How dare you, young lady!”

Hershel cringed inside. Geoffrey Barry. He was, as usual, at the center of the conflict. 

“How dare she what, Mr. Barry?”

“How dare she presume to dictate to her elders,” he huffed, looking at Beth with wide, indignant eyes.

“Beth was left in charge with--”

“Nonsense. Mr. Dixon was only doing that to placate her since she couldn’t go on his suicide mission after the Sheriff. Beth is a child. She has neither the wisdom nor the life experience to pass judgment in court.”

“Does your life experience tell you it’s either wise or moral to instigate civil unrest and show a complete disregard for authority?” Hershel asked tightly. 

Geoff looked angry and confused. He shifted his weight and stood taller, trying to tower over Hershel, which was pointless since he was a good inch shorter. “Civil unrest?”

“No doubt you’re the reason for this squabble. You usually are.”

“That is patently untrue, not to mention unfair! If you’re going to pass judgment on me before hearing the facts then how can you call yourself fit for duty as judge?”

“Daddy’s right. Daryl left me in charge with--”

As though to flaunt his lack of concern with Beth’s authority, Geoffrey Barry spoke over her. “Why don’t you send the little girl elsewhere? We adults have issues to discuss.”

Beth’s face turned lobster red and she looked up at her father for help.

“Beth, I’ll let you hear this matter and offer my advice once we’ve heard from all the witnesses,” Hershel said, taking a seat beside her and urging her to sit.

“You must be joking!” Geoff shouted.

The four people who’d come before Hershel and Beth with their complaint, one he still couldn’t quite determine since they’d all tried to shout their grievance at once, looked between the two men. He knew they were looking to see how he and Beth handled Geoff. He and Beth would either lose, or gain, the respect of the people based on how the matter was handled.

“No, Mr. Barry, I am not! Now sit down and shut up,” Hershel said, getting to his feet and leaning on his fists to stare Geoffrey down. 

“Or you’ll what?” Geoff asked, somewhat snootily for Hershel’s like.

“Or I’ll have the bailiff put you out of the prison for six hours,” Beth answered. “No weapons for protection.”

This gave Geoff pause, especially when the bailiff, Tyrese, stood straighter and hooked his thumbs in his belt, ready to do whatever Beth ordered him to do.

“You don’t have the authority,” Geoff said, this time with obvious uncertainty as he now eyed Beth. 

“Daryl said Beth and I are in charge. That means our word is to be obeyed same as his, same as Rick’s. You will recognize our authority or you’ll pay the consequences,” said Hershel. 

“Now sit down or you’ll find yourself on the outside. It’s a very nasty place to be, especially unarmed,” Beth said. 

She and Hershel sat down as Geoff cast Tyrese another worried glance.

“Don’t look at him, look at me. I’m the judge today,” said Beth. “Meredith will stand before the bench while the rest of you sit. I’ll hear you one by one.”

Thankfully Geoffrey Barry kept his mouth shut and took a seat with the others as a middle-aged woman came to stand before Beth and Hershel to be heard. Whatever their decision on the matter was, Hershel wondered if Geoff would abide by it, or test them yet again in an effort to usurp their authority. The man was trouble, and Hershel had the feeling he wasn’t long for living within the prison walls with the rest of them.



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