Chapter 3: No Trespassing

I'll never forget what it was like watchin' her stand right in front of me for the first time, my Birdsong. It was the same feelin' I got when we'd finally found that horse, Buttons. It'd felt good then, like maybe everything'd be alright for a while if somethin' that beautiful could make it so far in a place like this. But today was just a little diff'rent. A little better. Because today, this time, we had what we'd been searchin' for. This girl we tilled the ground for over the last three days couldn't've been more than five feet in front of us. She was as alive as could be, and she was safe.

She might'a been covered in brains, blood, and whatever-the-hell-else from head to toe. Might'a been wearin' a bandana over her face while she kept us on our toes at the end of a gun like some penny-western bandit. But there was somethin' about finally being able to see her up close that made the rest'a the world fall away for a second. My breath hitched up in my chest. People like Birdsong and Watcher Girl were the type that we needed, and the type that we needed t'keep safe. They weren't exactly in high supply back when laws was a thing, and they've become even more rare a find now that there's nothin' to keep the big bads in check. Maybe wantin' to protect'm made me a good-for-nothin' idealist son of a bitch, but I figured someone oughtta be.

In the three days we'd spent lookin' after them two, we hadn't been able to draw close 'nough to see much of anything. The dog they's travelin' with meant we had to hang back a ways if we hoped to keep our cover up 'til we's ready to be seen. Aaron and I had a hunch from the get-go that they weren't from 'round out here, but it wasn't 'til the end of our first day on recon that we started piecin' it all t'gether. Small fish bones were always layin' up over the dry brush near their tracks when we made moves to gain, but the nearest creek weren't exactly a stone's throw away. Birdsong's skin was the color'a honey, and Watcher Girl's hair was 'bout as white as the damn summer sun, but most people spent as much time under shelter as they could here in the New World. If y'wanna throw some icing on top'a that cake, when we inspected their camp this mornin' before headin' into town after'm, we seen it rigged between trees with some next-level lookin' knots.

They weren't the brand'a people you saw traveling on foot through the hillside. Nah. These's the kinda people that made a livin' out there on the islands. The kind y'hear rumors about every so often. Girls could'a been on a vessel of some kind hangin' around the inside of the coast, at the very least, but I think they's too savvy for that. If I had to take a guess, I'd say they'd been livin' out there in the middle'a the ocean for a minute. Explains how they made it through the last three years alive, with a dog, and a couple'a tans the girls back home would talk 'bout gettin' on the weekends.

Droppin' my crossbow, Lucy, to the ground (sorry, Lucy), I raised my hands 'bove my head. Wasn't exactly the type'a thing I's expecting after savin' her some skin, but you couldn't really fault somebody for not being able to trust people they meet out here in the world now'days. It's more ugly a place than the one I grew up in, and I didn't think it could get much uglier than the way I'd seen it back then.

Though I wouldn't consider myself a believer in too many things, Birdsong seemed like she weren't the type to take a life unless she ain't have much a choice. So if I could believe in that for as long as it took to convince her t'hear us out, we'd be good.

"You've got about ten seconds," Birdsong coughed somethin' fierce and vile, "to give me a reason not to shoot you both." She motioned over to the door on the far side'a the roof. Thing was drippin' in more chains than Rick Ross on a Sunday. "I'm fucking busy."

Now, I'd be lying if I said that the bit'a attitude on her didn't make me a little more fond that I's the one to find her. If she was scared, she sure as hell didn't look it. And even though sassin' us made her a pain in the ass right now, the kinda brass hardware she's swingin' is the kind you want on your side when everything else turns to shit.

That being said, die-cast as she might'a been, she wasn't lookin' too stable on her feet. For a brick wall of a woman who just ran straight into the gates'a Hell five minutes ago to get some casual battin' practice, Jungle Jane was havin' some kinda trouble keeping her trigger hand steady.

"We're friends. We're here to he-" Aaron's monologue ended real quick. Birdsong wasn't feelin' too friendly today, I reckoned after she cut 'im off.

"Not you, J. Crew," she cut in. I didn't laugh. I wanted to, but I didn't. "Arrow Man." She flipped her glasses to the top of her head. Droppin' the bandana 'round her neck, our girl stared me down cold.

Yup. Definitely wasn't feelin' friendly. I'd been named worse in my lifetime, though, so Arrow Man didn't really bother me none. In fact, if she didn't kill us, I'd make sure to save Aaron's new nickname to use on'm later. Y'know, since he has taken to callin' me 'Dix' and all. Not too sure what a J. Crew was, but he seemed t'dislike it 'nough to make me wanna use it.

Birdsong's hair was the same color as her skin, save a keen shot a silver through it. It was some other type'a wild, really. Her eyes may be only a shade or two darker than that, but they'd taken to lookin' like she hadn't slept in weeks. Even though it was colder than a witch's tit outside this mornin', her cheeks was spotted red and her lips were the sort'a grey that'd make you plain uneasy. I ain't a doctor by any stretch, but I know when someone's number is 'bout to come up. The looks of her gave me the feelin' that Birdsong might'a had only four or five good days left in 'er, and maybe two weeks overall if we's bein' nice about it.

Watcher Girl must'a taken a run over here on'er own for some of that good shit that ends in '-cillin.' And Birdsong wouldn't let her go it alone.

That's good people if ever I seen'm.

"You're sick," I tried talkin' to her in a gentle way, tryna make our case as quick and as easy as I could without givin' her cause for alarm. Losin' sight'a Watcher Girl was on me, and I knew it. Didn't think I could bear it if I scared off Birdsong, too. 'Specially given the shape that she was in right around now. "We got meds." Aaron took the side-eye cue and tossed her his medicine bag. "What we ain't got is time. We need to get in there after Goldilocks."

She didn't answer right away, but my eyes wouldn't leave her. They couldn't, what with the barrel of a pistol right there 'tween'um an' all. My head, or close enough to it, still lined up in her sights, Birdsong knelt down for the canvas pack Aaron'd given up. It only took her a few seconds to figure out that it was one of those gestures'a good faith that used to happen every once in a while. You know, back before the shit storm started and the whole globe spun into fucking anarchy. After seein' a bunch'a orange bottles stuffed to the top with antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and even some of the fun stuff, she lowered her revolver. Good thing, too, 'cause my fingers was gettin' kinda numb from hangin' out up in the blue.

That was when I heard it. When we all did.

A kinda lifeless, nasty rattle of somethin' metal. There's nothin' quite like the sound of a walker that's clawing at you from behind a door. Somethin' desperate and feral about it that makes them small hairs on the back of my neck stand up every single time. I could hear the raspin' of its haggard-ass breath, each and every one'a them. There were at least five deadheads in there, and they'd found somethin' they wanted.

A feeble, deliberate sort'a pounding came from the same place. Then so did a call for help.

"Ryan?!" Birdsong looked over. For a minute I wondered if that was what all of us looked like when we were shit-scared and graspin' at the straws of hope because none'a our options were any good.

The woman's muffled scream caught to the air like a bullet, and it was comin' from behind the barricaded wall. She must'a been trapped inside the stairwell by a half inch'a steel and twenty feet of padlocked chain. When the calls and cries b'came more frenetic, I tensed up. I knew no matter how many times we'd'a shot that door, we wouldn't be able to open it 'fore she had to make her peace. It was already too late; they'd laid teeth in 'er. Less than ten seconds had gone by since we heard the door rattle the first time, and whoever was in there was gonna be turnin' into one'a them motherless bastards before noon.

Before I could get to her, Birdsong was across the rooftop. Her voice was hoarse and loud all at once, yellin' her friend's name over, and over again.

There've been many times, in this day in age, when I felt like life's moved too fast. When good things happen, and then before y'ever saw it comin' they's gone. Or when the odds was stacked against you, and everythin' was some ind'stinct, cluttered mess'a cause and effect that y'couldn't piece together even after you'd made it out alive. But this wasn't one'a those times. Instead, it was the other kinda time. The kind when every single thing was goin' slow enough to drive you straight to madness. Painful-feeling. Permanent, like this fucking awful moment was glued into place exactly where you're standin' until it rips the beatin' heart right outta you. It was the same like this when I lost Beth, and the same when I found Merle. That old twinge in my eyes obscured my line'a sight. I wiped them sons'a bitches clear and slung Lucy onto my back.

I didn't really know what the hell to do, but I'd made it over to the door in time to watch her let down her bag and throw herself against the pitted metal. Hearin' her crash onto a wall wrapped in rusted and jagged chains with all her might made my guts turn. Tryna break her fall on the rebound, I caught her with my right arm. Birdsong shook me n' went for the door again. Half the words comin' outta her mouth were things I'd never even heard a truck driver say. She was wailing, tryna break through that door with her own body just t'get to the other side for a dead woman. The impact'a the chains against her shoulders was leavin' gashes that tore open her sleeves and cut up her skin.

I caught her again, tryna stop her from doing herself any more damage. She shoved me straight down. Jungle Jane was fuckin' strong for a sick lady.

Right there as I lay on the ground, my soul could'a shattered to dust. It was the same every time. Listenin' to the sound of someone crying out for God? Knowin' that they're in there, watchin' helpless as some fiendish, fucked up abomination that used to only exist in movies and nightmares rips into their own flesh? That was a fate worse than dyin' yourself. But watchin' someone else go through it was one of the worst things I'd seen to this day.

Ryan had gone mute from inside. Same couldn't be said for Birdsong, though, whose sobs were some'a the most pitiful things I ever did hear. Standin' again, I went over to the door and hung 'round next to her for a little while just in case she wanted to let me know how the hell we could be'a service, or in case she wanted to push me around some more. Here was a woman that I met about five minutes ago, and she might'a just lost the very last person she ever knew and cared somethin' for.

"Hey," I offered. The sound'a my own voice was quiet and blue. To say I didn't have the words would'a been generous, but they don't exactly make Hallmark cards for reference with this kinda thing, either.

Riskin' a bullet to the head, I took her into my right arm again, mindin' her shoulder. It wasn't much to start from, but when Merle died, bastard that he was, all I wanted from the only other people I'd known was to feel like I didn't have to be runnin' through some fubar dystopia all on my own. Maybe she didn't want the same things that I did, but she deserved to have someone around 'case she needed it. Aaron took her hand and whispered symapthies b'fore giving me what I like to call 'the look.' It wouldn't take more than few minutes now for the walkers to start swarmin' from miles around, and lingerin' on the roof wasn't in the cards as a long-term bid if we didn't wanna end up a bunch'a has-beens, ourselves.

The car and the bike were less than half a mile away, and it was bound to get less fun the longer we waited to get movin'. Not only was she hot as a fire, but she was limp as anything, shakin' like a leaf, and coughin' up half a lung. With a little bit of coaxin', Aaron and I were able to pull her away from the door. The sign that was banded over the chains had Birdsong's own red blood smeared 'cross it in just about every direction.

NO

TRESPASSING

It was time to go.