Author's note: Okay, so I want to give credit where credit is due as always, but I really can't remember if it was ampkiss, taurminian or someone else on Tumblr that put the idea in my head of Rick looking at men before falling into the coma and that being the reason Lori was always so upset. At any rate, it's sort of my headcanon now. I hope that's okay that I assimilated it into my writing.
They pressed on early the next morning. It was entirely possible that the men that had invaded their safe house were headed in the same direction as Rick's group, and they had seemed unsavory at best. Rick wanted to avoid them completely if at all possible. They were hardly able to handle more than a few Walkers right now, let alone a gang of thugs. On top of Rick's concerns over potentially being followed, their pace was slower than Rick would have liked. With the bullet wound in his leg and the serious damage done to his side, he just couldn't make himself move faster than he was. Not without an adrenaline jolt. Certainly, he was much better than he'd been four or so days ago, but it was frustrating being so laid up that he was all but useless. At least his mind was feeling clearer today. So, the three of them pressed on, slow and easy, and sticking hard to the tracks. Until they reached the end of the line.
At one point the woods just ended. As one, they warily stepped out of the cover of the forest and into a mostly empty train yard. To their right was a tall chain-link fence that stretched from the train garage they could see a ways down the yard yet to the first curve of the tracks. To their left was a sloping hill that rose up from the yard and was topped with the same type of fence. Beyond the hill they could see tall-grass fields, the end of a road and a building that looked to be some type of warehouse. Three of the fence panels were down at the top of the hill, but other than that small indication of disorder, the few box cars remaining and the surrounding area seemed empty and quiet, undisturbed really.
As one they stopped and looked around.
"It would be a bad decision to walk into that dark garage," Michonne murmured, her eyes locked on the open doors and pitch black interior of the train garage that all of the tracks ran into.
"I agree," Rick murmured and surveyed the hill for a few brief moments before moving in that direction. It was the best option available to them at the moment. "We go up. I want a better look at the city."
Michonne and Carl followed. If his son hovered closer to him than might have been necessary otherwise, Rick opted not to mention it. It was nice knowing his competent boy had his back. The climb up the modest incline was a little reminiscent of that first hill he'd forced himself up barefoot, aching and disoriented after he'd stumbled from the hospital yard what seemed like an entire lifetime ago. He hunched forward, sore enough to be entirely unable to climb in any semblance of an upright position, but his body was better trained now and he didn't need to crawl.
Once at the top of the hill, they picked their way over the springy resistance of the downed fence and stepped up into a small alleyway between the fence and the warehouse. Without a word the three of them moved as one to press against the wall, moving along it to the mouth of the alley. Michonne took point and peeked around only to motion them to follow her a second later. As a unit they moved around onto the street and edged along that side of the building until Michonne could once again peer around the corner. After a long moment, Michonne finally motioned them around and stepped forward.
Rick felt his heart sink as the street beyond the warehouse came into view. Walkers stumbled about everywhere. Either they needed to find another way around, or they were going to have to make a slow and careful trip through the city itself. He'd learned firsthand in Atlanta that massive congregations of Walkers could be idly lurking around any turn down there. Rick turned and walked away. He stalked out into the middle of the intersection behind them, and gingerly raised his hands so that he could run them through his greasy hair. He couldn't fight the wince raising his arms brought, but the small twinge of pain cleared his head a little.
"Is there a way around?" he asked Carl and Michonne, turning around to look at each of them in turn. "Can we go around an' not have t' deal with Them?"
Carl and Michonne exchanged a look Rick couldn't read, and once again, Rick found himself grateful that Carl had at least someone worthwhile to confide in. When they looked back at him, their twin expressions said it all. They were going to have to go through the city.
Swamped with anxiety, Rick whirled and paced. Every step made his sore ribs a little bit sorer, but he was desperate for inspiration. Carl and Michonne watched him for a little while before Michonne stepped forward, reaching out and laying a hand on Rick's arm. He jumped despite having seen her move out of the corner of his eye and winced with a hiss when the pain in his side flared.
"Not tonight," she murmured and glanced to the west. "Let's go back down to those boxcars and get some rest. Carl will stay with you, and I'll go see if I can find some food in the store right there."
Rick's eyes followed her other arm as it swung back to point at the grocery store two doors down from the first store on their left. "You shouldn't go off by yourself," Rick rasped and the protest fell short even to his own ears. The corner of Michonne's mouth pulled up, and she gave him a look that was clearly not impressed.
"He needs to stay with his father. You need him more than I do right now. If something happens, you're in no fit state to defend yourself."
She looked at Carl, and, after a moment, Rick did too. Carl tipped his head, looking up at them from beneath the brim of his hat. "Dad, you look really pale," Carl pointed out, his face going from thoughtful to concerned in the span of a heartbeat.
Michonne's eyes snapped over to Rick again, and it was in turning his head to look at her that the vertigo, something he'd felt swim through his consciousness a time or two since leaving their safe house, found the opportunity to take over. Rick felt his stomach churn, and his knees wobbled. His mouth started watering as the world tipped and tilted, the nausea settling heavily in his gut and clouding his mind. Apparently, his body had decided he'd pushed himself a little too hard, after spending days unconscious. The ground rocked up to meet him, and he felt the impact of it as though from a great distance. Carl's voice calling out to him sounded tinny and muffled. His vision blurred and blackness edged in, the last thing he saw was his son's frantically worried face dropping down over him and then there was nothing.
When Rick came back to himself, swimming up out of the inky depths of his deepest subconscious like a whale surfacing for air, he jolted awake and gasped. Carl's hands pushed hard on his shoulders, Rick slumping back as soon as Carl's shadowed face came into view. "It's okay, Dad! Michonne helped me get you t' a boxcar. We're safe."
Panting, Rick nodded, finally letting his head drop lightly back onto the floor of the boxcar. He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut as the ceiling spun. Most probably, the largest part of his problem lay in a dip in his blood sugar. His body was expending a lot of energy trying to repair itself and had received next to nothing to replenish what it had used in its efforts.
A soft series of knocks had Carl scrambling away, Rick tracking the boy's movement and then those of the newcomer – Michonne by the sound of the voice speaking in a hushed tone to Carl after the boxcar door was closed – by sound alone. Weak and heavy-limbed, Rick draped the crock of his elbow over his eyes and swallowed hard again. The nausea was getting a little better, but he was still incredibly uncomfortable.
"Hey," Michonne murmured once she's shuffled her way over to his side. Rick twitched in an automatic reaction, but couldn't bring himself to actually respond to her. Michonne's gentle hand on his shoulder got much the same reaction only this time he allowed a soft grunt to leave him. "I brought a bag of things back. I grabbed some crackers for you to start with."
After a long pause, Rick murmured a raspy, "Thank you."
"You should at least drink this water," Michonne insisted. And the crack of a fresh bottle of water's seal giving to deft fingers pulled him out of his daze. Stiffly, Rick allowed his arm to slide back down. Then he pushed himself over onto his side, and then slowly worked his way into a sitting position. Michonne handed him the opened water, and Rick eagerly took a few small sips.
The last few hours of daylight were spent slowly consuming all of the edible food stuffs Michonne had been able to get her hands on. She reported dispatching no less than five Walkers on her little foray to the grocery store. Michonne had also told them that she had been able to get the drop on those Walkers easily as they'd been fairly dormant at the time, and that she had disposed of most of them executioner style because of it. By the time she'd gotten a few good laughs and a soft chuckle out of Rick with her quiet but goofy reenactments of her "harrowing" adventure, Rick was feeling significantly better with something in his stomach. Her report was nothing but good news. Between feeling less nauseated and the dormancy of the city's Walker's, the next day was certainly looking up.
TBC…
