ANDREA:
From this height, the ground looked like it was about a mile below her, but Milton assured her that the weeds would cushion her fall. If she was honest with herself, that didn't make her feel any better, but what choice did she have? She went onto her stomach and army crawled across the roof so that the lookouts on the wall wouldn't see her, following Milton to the edge where the two of them agreed that the ground looked softest. The knock to her head made the grass swim before her and she clapped her eyes shut for a moment.
"I'll go first," Milton volunteered, sounding absolutely terrified.
"Try to roll as soon as your heels reach the ground to take pressure off of the landing," Andrea advised.
He didn't respond, tucking his glasses away in his breast pocket as he rotated around until his ankles were hanging off the edge. Inch by inch he backed up and then, when he was holding on by his upper body, he lowered himself down and let go. He took her advice, but not by choice as his heels touched the ground and his momentum carried him backward, legs first so that he did a very ungraceful backwards somersault. Andrea had to resist the urge to laugh as she watched him sit up, hair standing up on end with grass and a few twigs stuck in it. He replaced his glasses and then nodded to her, either completely unabashed or unaware of just how ridiculous he looked. Knowing what she did of Milton, she was inclined to think the latter.
With her pistol stowed in her belt, Andrea mimicked Milton's movements, but making sure to breathe and focus on protecting herself from further injury. Steeling herself, she used all of her upper body strength to hold her position for a moment and then released. The second she felt something solid beneath her, she bent her body forward and rolled once, landing stomach down in the bramble of weeds and uncut grass. She checked herself for injuries and crept over to where Milton was waiting for her, hidden by the overgrowth.
"Stay low until we get to the trees and keep right behind me," she told him in a whisper.
He didn't seem to mind her taking charge now, which she was grateful for. Milton never asked too many questions or protested much and right now it was best if he follow her lead because she was the one who knew the way to the prison and they were still close enough to Woodbury to raise the alarm if they were spotted. Lifting her head slightly to get her bearings, she took a moment to pick out her route when she felt Milton's fingers touch her ankle. His hand shook just enough to alert her to danger, but the firmness also warned her to be cautious. Making sure that her pistol was well hidden beneath her jacket, she slowly turned over to see a teenage boy standing not five feet from them, automatic trained on Milton.
"The Governor said she ran off to join those people who got inside and killed Haley and the others. What the hell is she doing back?" asked the boy and Andrea detected a definite note of fear in his voice. Also, by the way he was holding his weapon, she concluded that he was about as experienced as Milton.
"The Governor lied, Travis," said Milton steadily.
"He's a good man; he kept us safe until her friends showed up," snarled Travis, pointing his automatic at Andrea. There was cold fury and loss in his eyes, fear of what he felt he had to do.
He's just a kid, Andrea thought. Maybe five years older than Carl. He hero-worships Phillip because Phillip is a strong male figure—maybe Travis doesn't have one of those. Maybe his dad died in the outbreak.
"Look at her face," said Milton. "The Governor did that to her. She knew those people at the prison months before she met us, but she thought they were all dead. When she found out they were alive, she had to choose between us or them and though she doesn't mean any of us harm, she can't stay. You don't know what goes on in my lab, Travis; you don't know what things the Governor has done that he thinks are morally right. He tells himself that he's doing it for the good of Woodbury, but he's doing it for revenge against Andrea's friend who killed the Governor's daughter."
"The Governor never had a daughter," said Travis.
"She was a biter that he kept stored in his room, hoping that the infection would wear off and she would come back to him. He's delusional and dangerous if you know what he's up to. Trust me; I knew him before the outbreak and the way he is now is not the man he once was."
"You're lying," said Travis, though now he sounded unsure.
"And you're alone," said Milton, surprising Andrea with the concern and care in his voice as he spoke to the boy. Milton knew these people like anyone in a close-knit community would, but he was leaving them to Phillip for Andrea. At what cost, though? Did he truly want to go with her, or did he just feel obligated, threatened even, because Phillip would suspect who set her free?
"I understand that you look up to the Governor and that he's always been kind to you and before he lost his daughter, that was genuine. He did care about you, but now he will use you to kill innocent people. I don't have time to explain, but I need you to make a decision. I would never hurt you, so I'm not going to attempt to rush you and take your weapon. You can let us go, come with us, turn us in, or just shoot us. You're nearly a man now and I trust you to make the right choice."
Okay, maybe that's going a little too far, thought Andrea. Giving the boy the final decision was leaving everything up to chance and Milton had no right gambling with her life. Actually, he does, considering all that he's throwing away for you.
Travis readjusted his grip on his weapon, shaking his head, though it seemed to be at himself rather than them. "You don't understand, Milton," he said after a minute of silence. "You can't because of the way you are. You won't let people get close to you and you can't show affection, so you wouldn't know the first thing about having someone tell you that the person you respect most is a lunatic. I don't believe you."
Here it comes. Andrea prepared to go for the pistol, hoping she was faster than Travis and wondering if she and Milton could at least get to the trees before the other guards started firing. She hated the thought of having this boy's blood on her hands.
"I won't shoot you, but I won't go with you either. I'm staying here and if the Governor sends me out to kill you, I will. Don't come back, Milton, because Woodbury's doors are closed on you."
An immediate protective instinct took over Andrea and she confronted Travis, which probably wasn't the smartest decision on her part since he still had the automatic in hand. "Hey, look, son—"
"Don't call me that," Travis snapped. "I don't have any parents and I don't need any."
"Okay, I tried to be pleasant, but if you're going to have that attitude, fine," Andrea retorted. Milton made a noise of protest, but she kept talking. "I don't give a damn what you think about me, but from what I observe, you and Milton know each other very well. He's not turning his back on you, but he can't stay here, not after helping me. The Governor plans to kill me and when he finds out I'm gone, he'll narrow down the suspects really quick then make an excuse as to why Milton's suddenly gone, making him out to be a traitor. Milton's the only one who has his head screwed on right: he doesn't want to see anyone killed. No one is the enemy for him, but no one else thinks like that, so he has to stay alive in the best way he knows how. If he does come back, it'll be for all of his friends here because he thinks he can protect you."
Something that looked suspiciously like tears brimmed in Travis's confused eyes, but he jerked his head at the trees and said in a strained voice, "Go on, get out of here."
Andrea opened her mouth to respond, but Milton tugged insistently at her arm, now in the lead. His eyes had a very no-nonsense look that clearly said, Shut up, shut up right now and crawl, damn it.
Travis was already heading back to the area of the wall where he apparently had hopped down and Andrea knew Milton didn't want to be around for when he approached one of the other guards, regardless of what the boy promised by letting them go. Andrea flattened herself out again and crawled, pulling herself forward with such speed that she overtook Milton in seconds and had to pause for a moment and listen for his winded breathing to catch up with her. At any moment she expected to hear the alarm from Woodbury and she prepared for an explosion of power within her core to help her leap up and run like hell. The only problem was she didn't know how fast Milton could run, or even if he could since he didn't look fit by any means. Did he have asthma?
It doesn't matter; you take him with you, no matter what. You owe him that.
"We're clear," he whispered to her and she let herself up. Getting a good look at Milton, she had an idea of what she probably looked like right now: covered with dirt and grass all down the front, sweaty, and flushed. He glanced back over his shoulder and regarded Woodbury with a type of sadness she recalled upon leaving home for the first time to attend college. Saying goodbye to everyone and everything you knew to pursue an uncertain future was one of the most difficult things anyone could do and required a certain kind of bravery. This, though, was far different because at least she knew she could always come home to her dad and Amy if things didn't work out. Milton had nowhere left to go if the prison group didn't accept him and he would not survive on his own with how little experience around walkers he had. Sure, he was the one to help her escape, but he was helpless without her, like a child.
Travis is more capable of protecting himself than Milton. Milton is dead weight. He doesn't know.
But at the moment, Milton was all she had.
Andrea helped him to stand, brushed off the front of his jacket a few times to no effect, and motioned forward, deeper into the trees.
