27 June 2014

Crossing The Line Chapter Three


The Kindness of Strangers




“Dad?”

Carl had come out of the tent he shared with Rick when the commotion with Shane had started. Now he stood with a dark stain spreading from his side. He swayed on his feet and collapsed just as Rick reached him.

“Carl? Oh, God, please…no. Carl!”

Someone screamed on the other side of the camp, and chaos broke out. Michonne wanted to check on Carl but something was happening that demanded her attention.

“Rick, walkers!” Dale shouted, from atop the RV. “Theres dozens of them!”

“Carol, get Sophia and the kids into the RV,” Daryl said.

“Your arm!” Carol said.

“Just a graze. Go on!”

Daryl started forward with Michonne just as Andrea emerged from her tent and found Jacqui being swarmed by two walkers. Andrea tried to go to her aid but the walkers forced Jacqui onto her back and sank their teeth into her flesh: one in her neck, another on her shoulder. Michonne beheaded them and then looked at Jacqui’s wounds. She was bleeding profusely, and there was nothing to be done to save her. She nodded once at Michonne, who used her sword to put a quick and painless end to her.

It seemed, however, that no matter how many walkers Michonne cut down, two more came to replace them. Daryl ran out of bolts and now relied on his knife.

“How many of these bastards are there?” he asked, stabbing one after another in the head.

“Where the hell are they coming from? We’ve never seen walkers so far up here!” shouted Andrea. 

Michonne's eyes were drawn to the many people, mostly women and children, who were being attacked and taken down by walkers. They tried to fight but oftentimes they were simply overwhelmed. Dale remained atop the RV, trying to shoot down walkers from the safety of his perch. He rarely missed but they seemed not to make much of a dent in the crowd.

“Sophia, no!” Carol shouted.

Please, no, Michonne thought. Not another child. Don’t let that woman suffer yet another tragedy

Daryl ended the walker that had bitten into little Sophia’s shoulder but it was too little, too late. Blood spewed from Sophia’s neck like a geyser and she collapsed seconds later, into her mother’s arms. Michonne watched Rick emerge from the RV and slam the door shut, his shirt soaked with blood and an empty look in his eyes. She knew a moment of panic then. Had he only left Carl’s side to help the group, or because the boy had died? The idea of Carl being dead horrified Michonne, and she almost paid for it with her life. She cut down another walker, hoping to God that the boy she loved like a son was still alive.

*****

When morning came the sunrise illuminated the carnage and it was terrible. Tents lay collapsed and soaked with blood. The bodies of their people lay scattered around the camp, partially eaten, along with the bodies of the walkers that had attacked them. Michonne counted almost thirty-five walkers but it had seemed like so many more during the attack. Everyone who was left alive was soaked with blood and gore, and they were exhausted.

“Carl?” Michonne asked, hurrying over to Rick.

“He’s alive. He’s in the RV,” Rick answered.

He looked dazed as he took in the sight of their camp. No one wept. No one made a sound. The silence was unnatural and eerie. Finally Andrea began to speak with Carol, who sat holding Sophia’s body with a blank expression. She kept rocking back and forth, staring at nothing. She was undoubtedly in shock and didn’t respond to Andrea’s voice.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out. Michonne and the rest of the group whirled to see Jim’s body drop next to Jacqui’s. He had a bite on his left forearm.

“What are we gonna do?” asked Dale.

“We have to get help for Carl,” said Rick. “We need a doctor. He needs his wound stitchd up. The bullet fragmented. I pulled some of it out but there’s a piece left in there. The bleeding is stopped, though.”

“We can’t just go to a hospital,” Glenn said. “We have no idea where a doctor is.”

“The CDC,” Rick answered. “Fort Benning…Either place will have been protected by the government. If anywhere is still standing my money is on the CDC. It’s closer. You all don’t have to come but I’m getting Carl there.”

“Give us enough time to pack some supplies,” Michonne said. “Carl sounds like he’s doing okay but we won’t make it anywhere if we don’t have supplies for the road.”

Rick nodded and then disappeared into the RV to sit with his son. Michonne did a quick headcount. They had herself, Rick, Carl, Andrea, Carol, Glenn, Dale, Daryl, and three members of the Hernandez family, who stood listening to their plans to move out.

“I’ve got family in Birmingham,” Jorge said. “We’re going to try to get to them.”

“Are you sure about that?” Daryl asked. “That’s a long trip and you could run into any kind of trouble.”

Jorge looked at his wife and son and nodded. “We’re sure. We’ve got a gun, ammo, knives, and food. We’ll make it.”

Daryl wasn’t going to try to talk them out of it if they were determined, and he could tell that they were, all three of them. He nodded at them and watched them head off to their fallen tent to begin packing.

“We don’t have time to bury the dead, do we?” said Dale.

“Burials are for the living. The dead won’t care they were left to rot,” said Michonne.

“I won’t leave her,” Carols said, speaking for the first time. “Go on without us.”

“Carol,” Michonne said, kneeling beside her. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? Sophia was all I had to live for. Now she’s gone.” Carol looked down at her daughter’s ghostly pale face. “When she turns I’ll end her…then I’ll end me.”

“We can take her with us,” said Andrea. “We can find a place and bury her.”

“Just go,” Carol insisted. “Just leave me to die.”

“Instead of giving up,” Daryl interjected, “why don’t you chose to fight? Live to find that motherfucker and kill him.”

Michonne, Andrea, and the others left Carol with Sophia while they hurriedly packed. They filled the back of Carol’s old truck with supplies, including a couple of tents. They couldn’t take enough of the tents for everyone to have their own space. People would have to share while they were on the road.

The Hernandez family left first. By the time the rest of the group had packed up Sophia had begun to turn. Carol cried as she looked down at her daughter.

“Mama loves you, Sophia. I’m so sorry.”

She plunged a knife into Sophia’s skull, ending her, and then gently crawled out from under the body. She stood and looked at Daryl, then Michonne.

“I’ll help you wrap her,” said Andrea.

Once that job was done, and Sophia’s body was tied securely to the top of the RV, she climbed into the back seat of the old truck that had belonged to her and Ed.

Andrea looked at Michonne once they were belted in. “Do you think Carl will make the trip?”

“I hope so,” Michonne said. She didn’t know if she could take losing Carl. She definitely didn’t think Rick could.

*****

The CDC was a smoking pile of rubble, dashing their hopes of finding help there. Michonne didn’t hold out much hope that Ft. Benning would be any different, but she was going to go along, for Rick’s sake. If Carl died, and it was likely he would, then he had to believe he’d done everything in his power to save his son.

Life in the camp had made it easy for Michonne to forget how difficult travel with a group was. Travel was slower than they wanted, but they had to worry about conserving fuel and not getting stranded somewhere there weren’t cars to siphon fuel from. Dale’s RV suffered a breakdown in the middle of a traffic snarl, and while they raided the cars for fuel and supplies, they’d narrowly avoided a herd of over fifty walkers.

“We need shelter,” Rick had said. “There’s farms in the area. Maybe we can find one to hole up in for the night. We can’t risk staying out on the road with herds that size wandering around.”

Daryl and Glenn set off in search of shelter and found an abandoned church. They’d only located it because the bell system had rang and they feared it would draw the herd back to them.

Now night had fallen and they’d settled into the church, after having cleared it of a few stray walkers that had been sitting in the pews, seeming to go through the motions of attending an eternal church service. Carl had been stretched out on the altar and a pillow brought in to make him comfortable.

Sophia was given a proper burial in the cemetery in the back of the church, in a grave Daryl and Glenn dug for her.

Bone deep weariness set in on Michonne. She’d stayed up all night fighting at the camp and then travelled for two days, getting very little rest. She hoped she would sleep well that night, but worry for Carl would probably keep her mind from shutting down. She went outside to get some fresh air and sat down on the front steps beside Carol.

“You’re his target,” Carol said.

“What?”

“Shane. You were his target. He wants you but you’d made it clear that you’d chosen Rick over him. He said, and I’m quoting here because I’ll never forget it, ‘I’m going to have to take what I want from her.’ He said, and again I’m quoting, ‘I need to know if I can rape a woman. I need to know if I can do that terrible thing. I figure if I can do it to a friend I can do it to her.’”

Carol’s bitterness was obvious. She’d apparently been thinking it over and she blamed Michonne, at least in part, for what happened to her.

“Carol--”

“He practiced on me so he could get ready for you. He practiced on me!”

“I’m sorry, Carol.”

She shook her head. She was so full of bitterness and grief she didn’t know how to process it. She’d been brutalized, she’d lost her daughter, and the man who’d hurt her and brought in the walkers that had taken her daughter from her had simply gotten away with it. She wanted blood in ways she’d never known in her life and she was powerless to get it. She needed someone to blame.

“He came into my tent a couple of months ago. He tried to assault me but I fought him off.”

“And Rick didn’t kick him out?” Carol said incredulously.

“I didn’t tell Rick. I thought I’d handled it.”

Michonne saw the slap coming a mile away but she did nothing to avoid it.

“Carol,” Rick said, from his place in the church entrance.

“No!” Carol shouted, before turning back to Michonne. “If you’d spoken up this may not have happened to me. I hate you. I hate you all. Stay away from me!”

Carol stormed off to the back of the church, pushing past Daryl, who watched her go without a word. Dale, Glenn, and Andrea, who were sitting around a campfire, remained silent.

“She’s wrong. You couldn’t have known what he would do,” Rick said, before taking a seat next to her.

“Don’t try to let me off the hook, Rick. I should have told you the night it happened.”

“I wouldn’t have kicked him out. I know that, so do you. I would have fought with him, I would have threatened him, but I would have given him one more chance because he and I used to be friends. I would have because that’s the kind of guy I was.”

“Was?”

Rick nodded and stared toward the fire where some rabbits were roasting. “My days of mercy and kindness for unstable people are over. I see Shane again, our history won’t mean a damn thing. I’ll make him die a slow, hard death.”

He returned inside to sit with Carl. Michonne lay on one of the pews and listened to the boy’s moans of pain. He had a bad night. A fever set in and the pain killers ran out, not that they helped him much. Rick stayed up, watching Carl, afraid he was watching his son slip away to a hard, prolonged death.

“We need antibiotics,” Rick said. “We need good pain killers. The map has a town not far from here. I’m going to make a run.”

“You can’t leave him,” Michonne said. “You can’t, Rick. If he dies while you’re away you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“I can’t sit on my ass and do nothing, either. This is my boy!”

“Glenn and I will make a run. We’ll get what he needs,” she said. “Stay here.”

“She’s right, man. Carl needs his Pop with him,” said Daryl.

Rick finally nodded and sat down on the chair in front of the altar, where Carl lay moaning and sweating and pale. He begged for his father to do something to make the pain stop. His pained pleas ripped at Rick’s heart. He was helpless to save his son, or to ease his pain.

He looked up at Michonne. “Hurry.”

*****

The traffic snarl was bad but Michonne managed to navigate Carol’s truck through. They found an exit that led to a small down. The deserted streets were so quiet it made the sound of the engine sound like a roar. Michonne shut off the engine, only to jump when Glenn tapped her arm.

“Look there,” he said. “Pharmacy.”

There was a horse tethered out front. “Looks like somebody else is here, making a run,” she said. “Move carefully. We don’t need to get shot trying to get medicine.”

*****

Maggie Greene melted into the shadows when she heard the doors to a car slam closed. She’d made many a run into town for bandages, antibiotics, ointments, and other supplies, and never encountered another soul, either healthy or sick. She’d allowed herself to believe that the town was empty and safe, that she didn’t need a gun or a knife. She thought she was a fool to have allowed herself to become so complacent. Now she may have to pay for that foolishness with her life, if the people walking toward the pharmacy were hostile.

It was pointless to skulk in the shadows. Her horse was tethered out front. They knew someone was inside. Still she continued trying to blend into the darkness as a black woman with a sword and a Chinese guy entered the store. They spotted her at once.

“Hello,” the woman said. She tried a hesitant smile, sensing Maggie’s fear. “You don’t have to worry. We’re not bad people. We’re not looking for trouble.”

So you say, Maggie thought. She nodded politely and clutched a box of tampons to her chest as though they were a shield. Maggie thought the threat was directly in front of her, coming closer to her, and she didn’t see the thing beside her, on the other side of the shelf, reaching for her.

“Look out!” the woman suddenly shouted.

Maggie gasped as cold fingers gripped at her arm and the stink of rotten flesh wafted over her. The woman rushed forward, her sword drawn. She brought the blade down hard, severing the hand that gripped at her. It dropped to the floor with a sloppy, disgusting thud. The woman thrust her sword forward, jabbing the sword between the eyes of the man that had tried to grab her, putting an end to him once and for all.

“You…you just killed that man!” Maggie said in shock. “You cut off his arm and then killed him!”

The woman frowned at Maggie, wiped her sword clean, and then sheathed it.

“That wasn’t a man. That was a walker.”

“He’s dead already,” the Chinese guy added.

“My father says they’re not dead, like the rumors said, they’re just really sick. Someone will find a cure and bring them back.”

The woman looked at her companion before turning back to her. “We’ve dealt with these things for a couple of years now. They’re dead. There ain’t no cure.”

“I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” Maggie said, not wishing to argue with a sword-wielding stranger.

“I’m Michonne. This is my friend, Glenn,” Michonne said, offering her hand.

Maggie took it out of wary politeness. “Maggie.”

“Maggie. We don’t have much time so socialize. We’ve got a child in our group who was shot by a man. He’s got a fever, infection is setting in. We need to look for antibiotics and painkillers.”

“A child? How old?”

“Twelve,” Michonne said. “He’s my boyfriend’s son.”

Maggie bit her lip. Her father had told her not to give information away to strangers, but if a child was hurt she felt obligated to help.

“Where is he?”

“Why?” asked Glenn.

“My father is a veterinarian but he knows a lot about medicine and helping people. He could look at--”

“There’s a church just past this big traffic snarl,” Michonne said, wasting no time. “It’s out in the woods.”

“Mt. Zion? We used to attend church there. Well, Daddy did. I know exactly where it is. I can go home, get Dad, and we can run out to look at your boyfriend’s son. Just…this isn’t some trap, is it?”

Michonne shook her head vigorously. “I swear it’s not. Please, tell your father what’s happened. Carl is only twelve. He’s in excruciating pain.”

Maggie rummaged through the shelf and took two bottles and handed them to Michonne. “This is for the infection. Give him two lids when you get back to him. This is for pain. He may get a stomach ache from it if he don’t eat with it, so give him something like soup or crackers if you have it. I’ll get Daddy. We can be there in half an hour or so.”

Maggie hurried out, jumped on her horse, and galloped away. Michonne looked at Glenn.

“You think she’s telling the truth, or do you think she was afraid of us and she just wanted to get out of here?” asked Glenn.

Michonne started for the exit. “I don’t know. We’ll just have to see. At least we have something to treat Carl’s infection and help him with his pain.”

They hurried out to the car and started it up. Michonne prayed to God that Maggie was reliable, and that her father would come to take a look at Carl. His life literally depended on the kindness of these strangers.



*****



Glenn and Michonne returned to the church and hurried inside. Carl, as Michonne had feared, was in even worse shape than he’d been just in the ninety or so minutes she’d been gone on her run to the store. She hurried to the altar where Rick stood waiting.

“Did you get something for pain?” he asked.

Michonne nodded and took out the medicine. “Met a girl at the pharmacy. She says her father knows about medicine and can help Carl. She promised to get him and bring him here. She told me how to give this to him. He needs something to eat so the medicine doesn’t get him sick.”

Rick rushed out to the truck and returned with some stale crackers that he helped Carl eat. Michonne was in the middle of giving him a pill when she heard the thuds of horse hooves.

“People on horseback,” Daryl said. “Three of them. A man and two women.”

Glenn rushed to the window. He whooped happily when she saw Maggie. “She kept her word. She’s here.”

Rick wanted to weep with relief when an old man came into the church carrying a black bag.

“My name is Hershel Greene,” he said, by way of introduction.

“Rick Grimes, this is my son, Carl. Can you save him?”

“I’m gonna try, Rick,” Hershel said. “Step back, please, Patricia and I need to look him over.”

Hershel stepped up next to Carl. His face was pale as the sheet he lay on. His eyes locked onto Hershel’s.

“Your name is Carl, isn’t it?”

Carl nodded. “Hurts…”

“I know. I’m gonna do what I can to help you, okay?”

Carl nodded.

“I’m gonna have to touch your wound, Carl. That’s gonna hurt. You holler all you need to, okay? Dad, you come hold his hand. That’ll help him out.”

Rick went forward to hold onto Carl’s hand. He did cry out when Hershel probed at the wound with a gloved hand. He spoke to Patricia in a low voice and she handed him instruments.

“He needs a blood transfusion,” Hershel said. “You know his blood type?”

“A positive, same as mine,” Rick said.

“That’s excellent news. We don’t have time to waste. We need to get him to my place so we can do the transfusion. We’ll have to transport him on something stable. We don’t want him moving too much.”

The effort to move Carl went quickly enough. He only cried out a few times as he was hoisted onto a small board that Hershel had brought with him. They transported him to the RV but it took them almost twenty minutes to get through the traffic snarl and onto the road to the Greene family farm. The rest of the group trailed behind. Less than an hour later Carl was laid out on Hershel’s bed and they got started on giving Carl a blood transfusion.



1 comment:

  1. this is definitely darker fic, but still very captivating. Poor Carol, she suffered so much, she tries too stay strong in spite of it all.

    on another topic entirely: you have the funniest poll :). but I have to admit that, Rick's new look intrigued me, I don't mind beard, but once the rest of the prison group find a new "home" he can trim it a bit :)

    ReplyDelete