Day 1: Part 3 - A Spark
The silence was so heavy it seemed like I had cotton balls in them. Even now, my ears strained for some sort of background noise: cars, voices, music, even that strange whine that meant some nearby electronic device like a computer or tv was on. We were on the top floor of the apartment building next to the one we were temporarily camped out in, in the stairwell. The buildings were essentially twins and were connected on the roof by a thin metal walkway. I had spied it earlier when I was sitting up there earlier. I had remembered it while eavesdropping on Carol and Lori and thought it might be a good place to look for more supplies. It also couldn't hurt my efforts to ingratiate my guys with the Rick's larger group. I crouched in front of the stairwell door, every muscle tense as I eased it open a crack. I was ready to run if needs be, but from this angle the hallway seemed clear. Lawrence was at the edge of the stairs, peaking over the railing to see if anything was on the way up that might block our exit back to the roof. Suarez was at my shoulder, waiting to hold the door for me so I could slip through if it looked safe. Months of living as the three of us meant that we had a system for clearing buildings and knew instinctively what parts each of us would play. It was second nature, by this point. A well-choreographed dance, if you will; our movements went together as fluidly as if we were three parts of the same mind.
Rick had protested at first, as I had known he would, and his son had echoed his father's concerns. I insisted on only the three of us crossing the bridge over to the adjoining building, explaining how any additional people would slow us down and put us at greater risk, not less. Neither Rick nor Carl wanted to continue arguing with me, though, after I played the dying card. I know, low blow, but a girl's gotta use what she's given. T-Dog didn't like the thought of the three of us heading over there alone, but I think those concerns were more out of a sense of distrust than any thought of our safety. Surprisingly, Phil stayed out of the debate, never taking his eyes from the living room window. Daryl's reaction had particularly intrigued me, though I didn't want to admit why right then. I needed to focus on the task at hand. I was entirely in the moment, using every sense, feeling every muscle. In that moment, I was the hunter, and I felt more powerful than I had in weeks.
I eased the door open further until there was enough room to slip out. The coast seemingly clear, Suarez held the door for me so I could move into the hall. I stayed up on the balls of my feet which made my movements quieter and kept the muscles in my legs engaged, shortening my reaction time. Clear of the door, I twisted and saw that the rest of the hall was indeed empty. When I had backed myself up to the opposite wall, Suarez and Lawrence followed me through. The adrenaline had my fingers twitching and palms sweating and my heart was beating hard against my ribs. I tried to keep my breathing slow and even in order to maintain control of my body. I wanted to be alert, but too much adrenaline would make me jittery and sloppy.
The halls were lined up in a square, with the stairwell and elevators in the middle. Now that the guys were in position, we would sweep the halls first before entering the apartments. Half crouching, I led the way to the first corner. Lawrence was across from me where I could see him out of the corner of my eye while Suarez hung back a few paces to watch the other direction. Zombies weren't very good at sneaking up on people, but we didn't want to take any chances. Sometimes threats came from other sources than just the walkers, though, thankfully, my little trio hadn't had run-ins with fellow survivors. Yet. That might change if Suarez couldn't keep a cool head. Anyways, because of our positions, I could see down the next leg of the hall first. This also meant that anything in that part of the hall would see me before the guys. I'm not sure how I ended up as point person, but it had always been that way. You would think that these two guys would have pulled some macho bullshit and tried to keep me in the safest of the positions. Maybe they did, but I can't remember. I think it had partly been an unconscious decision within the group and partly my initial need to prove myself to them. Now it was just the way we worked. The halls on the top floor were clear, and before long we were back at the stairwell door. I continued past the stairwell to the first apartment door without hesitation. The first two doors we passed were locked, but the knob of the third turned easily in my hand. I tested the door for any creaks before pushing it open a crack.
The sound of heaving breathing reached my ears. I froze, my whole body tensed, holding my breath. Of course I knew that sound. No living creature would be breathing that way. The walker wasn't in my line of sight, so I shifted my weight, trying to see more of the room without opening the door further or recklessly poking my head through. Glancing back at Lawrence, I gave him a quick nod. He hefted the hatchet in his right hand higher and moved so that he was right behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. In my previous life, having a guy so close to me physically would have set off all sorts of alarm bells in my head, but in this case, his proximity calmed my nerves. Suarez and Lawrence represented safety to me; they had never given me a reason to fear or distrust them. Trust was essential when constantly putting your life in someone's hands as I had done with them on countless occasions, and they with me. Breathing again, I wiped my palms on my pants and readjusted my grip on the machete before quickly pushing the door the rest of the way open. We wanted to get eyes on that walker before it realized we were there. I made every effort to avoid alerting the walker that we were there.
There was a hole in the wall across from the door; a breakfast nook that looked into the kitchen. A woman in a light blue flowered dress was standing by the bar stools lined up beneath the opening, facing away from us. We couldn't see her face, but I knew from the sound of her breathing what she was. Her appearance made it obvious, as well. Her shoulders were oddly slumped and her skin and clothes were filthy. Her long, blonde hair was matted into a horrible rat's nest on one side of her head and she was painfully thin. She hadn't done anything yet to make me think she knew we were there. The thick carpeting allowed me to ease through the doorway to a spot where I could see down the hallway to the rest of the apartment. The living room was to my left, but a quick scan with my eyes reassured me that it was empty. There were two doors on the left side of the hall, one doorway and a set of accordion doors on the right. The door at the very end of the hall stood open, revealing the ambient light of a window. The rest of the apartment was deep in shadows.
Even as I moved into the living room to get a better view, Lawrence stepped forward and, in two quick strides, had crossed the distance between himself and the walker, burying the hatchet into the back of her skull. There was a hard rap as her skull cracked, followed by a low squishing noise as the blade sunk into her brain. Lawrence put a boot on her shoulder to give himself some leverage. Pulling the hatchet free, he accidentally splattered the near wall with little blood droplets and white spots of brain matter. I tried not to think about it. The first time I had killed a zombie, I had thrown up on Suarez's shoes; the second time I had thrown up on my own shoes. Stuff like this didn't set off my gag reflex anymore, though. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. I know it sounds insensitive, but these were the times we were living in now. Catching Lawrence's eye, we started moving down the hall. I could see Suarez just outside the main apartment door. The first room we came to was the kitchen, but thanks to the breakfast nook we already knew that was empty. Then there was the first closed door on Lawrence's side of the hall. He quickly flung it open, but it was just a coat closet.
The second closed door on his side was a bedroom. There was a full-size mattress set on the floor across from the door and a desk and chair with a computer against the far wall, beside the closet. I only had enough time to make these quick observations before there was a loud growl and a tall, gangly walker lurched into view. He headed straight for me, of course, but I was ready for him. I swung across my body with the machete and caught the walker in the temple. The machete was sharp and I knew just how much power to use to cut through a human skull. He pulled the weapon from my hand when he fell sideways across my feet, but it hadn't stuck in very deep. I could see now that the walker had been in his early twenties at most when turned, though his clothes were too filthy for me to learn anything more about him that way. To be honest, I didn't really care. I couldn't afford to. You had to turn off your emotions when in survival mode; thinking too much would slow down your reaction time. The angry, sore hole in my side was proof enough that you always had to be at the top of your game. Besides, was the guilt and shame really worth it when it didn't change what needed to be done? A quick tug had my machete solidly back in my grasp and we moved on to the accordion doors. I figured there would be a washer and dryer behind them since we hadn't seen those yet. Come to think of it, we hadn't seen a bathroom yet, either. I glanced back up the hall just to make sure we hadn't missed a door. I couldn't see it, but I thought I remembered seeing one in the living room. It would take up the space behind the coat closet. I was right about the washer and dryer.
At the end of the hall, the door opened so that I had the line of sight. There was an open closet door on the far wall, with a desk setup similar to the previous bedroom. I reached across myself with my left arm to push the door open further so we could see the rest of the room. I was slowly swinging it open when a hand shot out from around it and grabbed hold of my wrist. I jumped in surprise, barely suppressing a yelp. I heard the low growl, but instead of giving in to my instinct to flee, I yanked my arm into my stomach, pulling the walker out from behind the door to where I could more easily get to him. The door was blocking my right arm and it took me a moment to adjust so that I could swing the machete over my head instead. The walker had just started to bare its teeth when I made contact. I swung too hard, though, because it stuck fast and I went down to the floor with it. Feeling the zombie underneath me go limp as that part of its brain keeping it animated expired, I looked to the part of the room that the door was still blocking. There was another female walker near the bed and she was quickly moving in my direction now that she could see me. She had her arms out in front of her, hands curled into claws. I kicked out with my foot, opening the door the rest of the way so Lawrence could see her. He stepped over me and swung the hatchet, struck her square in the temple. The force threw the walker's body into the door, slamming it into the wall with a loud noise. I glanced back up the hall to see Suarez lean into view and gave him a thumbs up, letting him know everything was fine. Sighing in silent self-abuse, I wiggled my blade free of the walker's skull. It made small squeaking noises as it rubbed against the bone. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. Lawrence helped me to my feet and, after checking the bathrooms in both the master bedroom and living room, we moved back into position for the next open apartment.
We repeated this process for each open apartment and when we had reached the stairwell for the second time we switched things up. Lawrence took over Suarez's duties as lookout while he took point and I backed him up. Suarez had the lockpicking skills, which is why he took point when we started clearing the locked apartments. It was a long, slow process; it was well past lunch time when we had finally cleared all five floors of any lingering walkers and bagged up any useful loot we could find. All in all it was a surprisingly successful haul. The building actually wasn't overly infested. We realized when we reached the first floor that the two sets of glass front doors, the only entrance to the building other than a fire exit at the back, were still intact and the few walkers hanging around outside didn't seem the least bit interested in trying to break in. Lucky for us, because that meant that no one else had broken in to look for supplies and the walkers we were running into had probably been the residents, holing up in hopes of riding out this , the virus or whatever it was had still gotten to them. There weren't any humans left alive, though we found evidence in a couple apartments that not all of them had been turned, either.
I didn't know how to deal with death, especially my own. While we had been hunting and scavenging, our minds had been distracted, almost enough to forget that this would be our last time doing this. Now that we were done, there was an awkwardness between us. Things had never been awkward; tense and even hostile at times, yes, but never awkward. My only thought was to help these two deal with what had happened to me, and what was coming, and hopefully keep them safe after I was gone. It might seem silly that I keep harping on that, but it was all I could think about right then. I didn't deal with death; I ignored it. Kinda hard to ignore your own coming end, though. Maybe that's why I was so focused on the guys, because it provided me with a way to avoid dealing with my own thoughts and feelings on the subject. Hmm. Probably better not to psychoanalyze myself right now.
"So now what?" I asked. I had my arms and ankles crossed, tapping the toe of my boot against the floor. A part of me still thought making myself smaller could help me avoid the attention of others. Funny how childhood defense mechanisms stick with you. Looking past Suarez to the front glass doors, I noticed one of the walkers shuffling aimlessly outside glance in our direction. He looked away again, but I sensed a hesitation in his movements as his head turned in our direction again. If we weren't careful, we were going to start attracting attention. I turned back to the guys. Lawrence had his arms crossed and shoulders hunched like me, but he was looking off down the hall and seemed to be forcing himself to take deep breaths. I felt my eyes sting and took a deep breath, blinking furiously to maintain control. Damn my empathetic tear ducts! I rarely cried by myself, but as soon as someone else was crying, I would get all choked up. Suarez, instead, had fixed me a very serious look. I felt a little uneasy when I noticed the intensity with which he studied me.
"What?" I asked, cautious. Did I see the corner of his mouth twitch?
"I know what I want to do" he replied, leaving me in mystery for a moment. There was no doubt now that his eyes were sparkling with mischief. I knew some kind of joke was coming and squinted at him menacingly.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, but Lawrence might feel a little left out." We both glanced at Lawrence who had turned to us with a look of puzzlement that probably matched my own. I had always been slow on the uptake. "Unless you're into that kind of thing, I guess." And then I got it. Lawrence's face lit up with surprise and his eyes grew large and round. I laughed and shook my head. I knew he wasn't serious; Suarez would comment from time to time about a more intimate relationship between us, but he only did it to flatter me. It did the job and seemed to ease some of the tension in our little group. As if on cue, Lawrence's stomach reminded us that we had missed lunch. I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. We all laughed again.
"I don't think anyone would mind if we pinched some of the food we found today and have ourselves a nice lunch before we head back," I suggested, to which both guys readily agreed.
After moving the bags of supplies from the first floor and blocking the stairwell door with a fridge from the apartment across the hall, we relocated to an apartment on the second floor, at the front of the building. I placed us there intentionally so I could keep a discreet eye on the building entrance. We ate ravioli and spaghetti-os cold, out of the can with some forks we had scrounged up. There were also a bottle each of bottom-shelf tequila and top-shelf whiskey that we decided wouldn't be missed, giving us another excuse to delay our return. At first we reminisced, me remembering some of the more sentimental times, like when the guys took care of me after my first kill and I was physically sick from the images playing over and over in my head. Or when I realized that I had begun to see them as family, rather than just tools for survival. Suarez, of course, pulled out some of the funnier moments. They probably wouldn't have seemed as funny if I had told them, but Suarez had the soul of a storyteller. Lawrence and I could barely breath, we were laughing so hard, especially after his imitation of me when they first met me, trying to look and sound tough and intimidating. He had his chest puffed out, shoulders back, this incredibly ugly scowl on his face, quoting line for line almost exactly what I had said. Obviously I had only succeeded in looking like a fool, but it didn't matter. The three of us had quickly become inseparable. It was a really nice moment and I was starting to feel a little better about everything, but then there was a lull. And as the lull stretched, we fell deeper into our own thoughts. I stared out the window, lost in my memories. For some reason, my thoughts strayed where I wouldn't allow them to earlier.
It was after Rick had finally relented and agreed for Lawrence, Suarez, and I to go on this supply run by ourselves. I slipped into the bedroom to collect what I would need from my pack, especially my machete, which lay on top, snugly within its sheath. What I hadn't expected was that Daryl would be stretched out on the bed taking a nap. I found myself wondering if he had slept as little as I had after the attack. If he had been on watch before the walker emerged from the closet, than he probably had slept even less than I had. I felt a little bad about how short I had been with him before, but I figured everyone was allowed a little rudeness when you lived in constant fear and stress. Everybody was wearing thin, including myself. I couldn't help but admire the way his biceps looked with his hands under his head that way. Even more surprising was how peaceful and gentle his face looked as he slept. I only knew the hard lines and frowns he wore during his waking hours. Curious, I glanced towards his pants. I wish I could say I was admiring his zipper, but it was what was underneath that interested me more. I mentally slapped myself across the face. Get a grip!, I berated myself. Death's doorstep is a little late to be thinking about that! Jeez! Focus, girl. Shaking my head, I knelt to gather my gear from my pack. The movement strained the muscles on my side that had been damaged. I hissed softly, shifting to ease some of the tension.
"Hershel can offer you something for the pain." His voice startled me, but when I looked over towards where he lay, he hadn't moved a muscle, eyes still closed. I noticed his face didn't have the slack, relaxed appearance anymore. Heat rose in my neck and face as I wondered if he realized how long I had stood there admiring him.
"He did," I said, clearing my throat. "I turned him down."
"I see." After he was silent a moment, I turned back to my pack and gathered what I needed. Standing back up, I realized he was still in the same position, but had his eyes open, not hiding the fact that he was watching me. His brow creased as he noticed the sheath snapped to my belt.
"Where are you goin'?" There was my temper flaring up again. My mouth opened before I could think twice.
"Rick gave us permission to go on a run to the building next door. That okay with you?" Damn. I winced inwardly. That guilt over being rude before sure had lasted long. Ugh. Kiss your curiosity good-bye, 'cuz you definitely won't find out what he's carrying with an attitude like that! His eyebrows rose upwards a few inches, but his voice was even.
"Well, excuse me for asking. I was just curious." He closed his eyes and turned his face back towards the ceiling. I wanted to bang my head against the door frame in front of me. I was so stupid and proud sometimes. "Besides," he continued, "you don't need our permission anyways." I hovered near the door, not sure how to respond. Finally, I just gave up and turned to leave.
"Be safe." I laughed. I couldn't help it, but as soon as it was out, I wished I hadn't. I realized he was being sincere, but the fact was that I was already dead, so what did it matter if I was safe or not. Too late for that. He fixed me with a very stern look until I was so uncomfortable that I had to look away. He closed his eyes again as I tried to slip out the door.
"I'd offer to go with ya, but I'd rather catch some zzz's while I can." That made me smile a little and I could see the edges of his mouth twitch, similar to Suarez's when he's being funny. I shook my head and closed the door gently behind me.
I didn't like that I was thinking about a guy right now, but that was typical of me. I was a serial crusher, by which I mean that I always seemed to have an interest in some guy at all times. I hadn't had the luxury to do so since the world had ended, but I guess I was still as ridiculous about men as I had been before. I roused myself from my stupor and turned to see what the guys were up to. They were both staring at the floor from their respective seats, as lost in their thoughts as I had been. I didn't think there was any way to candy coat it, so I jumped right in.
"So, what do you think about Rick and his group?" I asked, studying their faces. Lawrence hesitantly answered first, eyeing me curiously, probably trying to figure out the sudden conversation starter. Suarez's face was stone as he watched me. I avoided eye contact with him, knowing he had me figured already.
"They seem nice enough, I suppose. I don't care much for that Phil guy, though."
"Well he's not technically a part of Rick's group," I responded. Suarez started shaking his head, staring at the floor again.
"Don't start."
"Don't start what?"
"I'm serious. Don't go there, Leesey."
"Don't go where? I'm confused." I looked from one to the other with, what I hoped was, a look of doe-eyed confusion.
"Damn it! Stop playing innocent." He fixed me with a hard glare. "We are not having this discussion." I sighed.
"Look, I have your best interest at heart, here, ok? I want you guys to be safe after...after I'm gone, and you know as well as I that more people are safer."
"How do you figure?" Lawrence asked. He kept his face blank, but the tone of his voice made it seem as if he might be more easily persuaded than Suarez.
"Well, you have more eyes to watch for danger, more people to keep watch when you're sleeping or not on the move, like we are now. More weapons being wielded if it comes to a fight. Mostly, there's less of a chance to be caught unawares or outnumbered by these things."
"And more mouths to feed, more personality quirks to learn to deal with, more drama between group members. Not to mention elderly, children, and injured who can't pull their weight, putting a burden on the rest of us. It's too much hassle and uncertainty." Suarez made a good argument, but I wasn't about to be silenced.
"Please, Suarez-"
"No! Stop pushing the issue!" He said, cutting me off. I was taken aback. I stared at him, shocked. He had never raised his voice with me before.
"Tony," Lawrence used our friend's first name, his voice calm, like you would use to calm an angry or scared dog. "Maybe it's something we can consider, huh? We don't have to decide right this second, and Leesey makes some good points." I shifted uncomfortably. I knew the tactic Lawrence was using, but at the same time, my anxieties wouldn't be calmed. There wasn't much time to put this off. I would be dead in 48 hours, tops.
"The time for this decision will be sooner than you think, and you guys need to know your answer when that time comes."
"We will, we'll talk about. Just not right now, while we've all had so much to drink." Lawrence finished off the tequila as if to punctuate his statement. Suarez stood suddenly, knocking his chair over backwards so forcefully that it made me jump. I saw Lawrence flinch out of the corner of my eye, as well.
"We were just fine before you came along, so don't act like you did us a huge favor by teaming up with us! We'll be just fine on our own again!" And with that, he stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. I sat there for a few minutes, staring after him, stunned. When I finally turned to look at Lawrence, I was just as surprised to see him staring at the ceiling, tears hovering in his eyes. He was trying so hard not to cry. It was the same trick I used to try to somehow reabsorb the tears before they spilled over; it rarely worked. A sharp pain stabbed my chest and I could feel my own eyes tear up in response. I wasn't good with emotion and I hated crying. We sat there, the tears silently rolling down our cheeks for a few minutes before I finally forced myself to put my hand on his knee. I hoped the gesture would be comforting, but instead the tears seemed to come more quickly for him and he opened his mouth to breath, turning his face away from me.
"I'm sorry," I choked out. He shook his head, his face unreadable.
"It's not fair," he whispered, brushing at his cheeks with the back of his hand. He covered the hand I had on his knee with his and gave it a small squeeze.
"I know it's not. I just wish I could make this less painful for you guys." He laughed, turning to look at me. His eyes were rimmed red, but the tears seemed to be slowing a little.
"That's not possible." I sighed in response, averting my eyes. I didn't know how to respond. Of course he was right.
"Aren't you scared?" he asked me, after awhile. This brought a new flood of tears to my eyes and I could feel my body start to tremble. I turned towards the window, embarrassed.
"I'm terrified," I gasped. "There's so much I still wanted to do with my life. It just feels so...anticlimactic to have it end like this. I mean, what was the point of everything I did before if this is how it ends?" He shook his head.
"I don't know," he whispered. Closing my eyes, I took a slow, deep breath, forcing the muscles in my body to relax, trying to release the tension I was holding. It was an old meditation technique I had carried with me from undergrad. The calm washed over me as I regained control of my emotions. "What are some things you still wanted to do?" he ventured. I gave a short laugh, drying my face with my shirt.
"Well, there is one thing you know I missed out on." The skin between his eyebrows creased slightly as he thought about it, but it only took a moment until recognition lit his face. He smirked.
"I would offer to help with that, but you really are like a sister to me and that would just be creepy." We both laughed. I'm sure he was as glad as I was that the crying was done. Some of the tears still clung to my lashes and my face felt tight where the tears had left salty trails down my cheeks and chin. I blew my nose in my shirt, not caring for niceties anymore. Lawrence followed suite. Figuring it was time to go look for the third member of our posse, I stood and stretched, being ginger with my side. We didn't have to look far, since Suarez was just outside the apartment door, reclining against the wall. His face was stoic as usual, when he wasn't storytelling, but his lashes seemed damp and the whites of his eyes were a little gray. He glanced down and must have seen the signs that I had been crying, too, because without a word he pulled me to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my face against his warm chest, closing my eyes for a moment. This was nice. I felt safe, protected. I hadn't felt that way in almost a year. He kissed the top of my head.
"I love you." I sighed, hugging him tighter.
"I know, but thank you for saying it."
I don't know how long we stood like that, Lawrence hovering nearby, when we heard a muffled crash. It sounded like breaking glass. I flew past Lawrence, back into the apartment and over to the living room window. Throwing it open, I stuck my head and chest out to get a look at the front doors. The first set of glass doors were broken and around a dozen zombies were pushing through them and against the second set. There was no telling how long those would hold up under their weight. Lawrence and Suarez were right behind me when I ducked my head back into the room.
"What happened? Are they through the doors?" Lawrence asked, his already large eyes wide with concern. I pushed past them without answering and ran for the door.
"Come on!" I called over my shoulder as I raced down the hallway. Out of the corner of my eye, as I threw open the stairwell door, I could see them following at a full sprint. Half-running, half-falling down the stairs, I tried to formulate a plan. Abandoning our hard-earned spoils was not even a question. We needed some way to slow down the horde while we moved everything over to the roof of our own building. The bags of goodies were still scattered along the halls of every floor but the first, which meant we needed to buy ourselves a little time. I bruised my hand, slamming into the door for the first floor, but I didn't care. I paused long enough to glance through the crack in the door to make sure it was still safe before throwing it open. Suarez caught it on the backswing and held it open while we gawked at the walkers against the front doors.
"What do we do?" he asked, not even winded. I was having trouble catching my breath, which was strange since I had hardly exerted myself yet.
"Find something heavy to brace the door from the inside." The guys didn't hesitate in rushing across the hall into the first apartment to see what they could find that might work. I stationed myself as look-out, giving myself an excuse to breathe. I watched anxiously for any sign of weakness in the second set of doors, but they seemed secure so far. What had attracted their attention to this building now, of all times? They had completely avoided it to this point. I could only figure that myself and the guys were the cause, but, racking my brain, I couldn't remember anything we had done that would have drawn them in.
"What about a refrigerator?" Suarez asked, peaking at from around the doorframe.
It took several minutes of maneuvering to get the fridge in place, but we felt confident that it would hold. None too soon, either, because we could see the doors starting to bow inwards as we blocked off the first floor. Now let me tell you, exercise was a dirty word for me before the world went to shit; I definitely had some reserves when times got leaner. Having no one to rely on but yourself, and constantly on the run from people wanting to kill you, you learn to love your muscles. And I did. I could run with the best of them, short sprints or long endurance runs, it didn't matter. But even my longest run didn't compare to the exhaustion I felt that day. I lost count of how many trips I was taking up and down those stairs, sometimes as many as four flights at a time, and then right back down for the next load. We knew we couldn't dally, but even Lawrence and Suarez were starting to slow down. I was the worst. My legs and arms were so tired that they felt weak and shaky. I was gasping for breath and thought I was going to lose my meager lunch. At first Suarez would call out encouragement to me when nearby, but he couldn't keep it up for long.
During one of the trips across the little bridge between the roofs, I noticed Daryl emerging from the stairwell of the building we were camping out in. He raised his eyebrows as I dropped the pillow cases I'd been carrying.
"Need some help?" he asked. I opened my mouth to reply, but ended up in a coughing fit instead. I managed to nod, though. He must have caught on to my sense of urgency, because he brushed past me, bounding with energy.
"What floor?" he called up to me.
"Fifth," I gasped between breaths. We were almost done, and then we could rest. Two more trips and we had succeeded in moving our haul to the other rooftop. Dropping my last load, I turned to see Daryl looking around for something. I watched him, my brain a bit sluggish after all that exertion. It clicked for me when he snatched up a length of heavy chain: he wanted to secure the rooftop door. Catching up to him, I grabbed the other end of the chain and helped him pass it through the door handle a couple of times and wrap it around some sturdy metal braces around the corner. He connected one end back to a link on the previous round with a carabiner I had clipped to my belt loop. It wouldn't hold for long, but it should be enough to keep them inside until we had vacated the other roof.
A few minutes dismantling the floor of the roof-bridge and we had earned our well needed breather. Daryl was barely sweating, having come late to the game, but I was doubled over, hands on my knees, gasping in the cool air. My arms and legs felt like jelly. Exhausted, I flopped myself down on the concrete and rolled over, arms and legs splayed in every direction. I didn't care. I just closed my eyes and focused on breathing, on easing the burning in my chest and throat. I could hear the guys breathing heavily, as well. There was a light breeze blowing across the roof and it felt good on my damp skin. I heard a sharp gasp and looked over in time to see Lawrence lurch away from us, towards the edge of the roof. The sounds of retching quickly reached our ears. I gagged and almost lost it myself. Having regained some control of my limbs, I rolled over towards a small brick shed and sat, leaning back against its cool, shaded wall.
Suarez groaned loudly as he got back to his feet and collected our friend off the concrete where he lay after losing his lunch. Pulling one of Lawrence's arms across his shoulders, he supported him as they walked towards the stairwell door.
"You need help with him?" He paused at the sound of my voice, readjusting the way he was holding him up.
"No," he said, glancing towards me. "He's never been one to hold his liquor well, even in the best of circumstances. He just needs to sleep it off." I pretended not to see the sharp look Daryl gave me. He was hovering between me and the walkway we had used to reach the other building.
"I'll start bringing the bags down, then." He shook his head.
"I'll let the others downstairs know to come up and grab the supplies. You need to do something about that bleeding or that chain won't hold them back for long once they catch a whiff of that." Looking down, I noticed for the first time that my shirt was soaked through with bright red blood, causing it to stick to my side. Without a second thought, I whipped my shirt off and peeled off the ineffective bandage to get a better look. The scab that had started to form over the wound was cracked wide open around the edges and a couple times across the middle. The resulting blood was smeared where the shirt had been absorbing it and now trickled freely down my side. I wadded up my shirt and pressed it against the wound, hoping it would staunch the flow. I glanced up, realizing Daryl was still standing uncomfortably close, watching me with a carefully guarded face. I flinched at the bolt of pain that ran through me from the wound in my side. The way that I was having to twist in order to hold the shirt in place was causing the muscles in that side to shift and stretch, putting tension on the edges that were already raw and bleeding. Daryl crouched down beside me, pressing his hands against the wadded up shirt so I didn't have to. I was loathe to acknowledge the way my heart sped up at his nearness, especially under his hard, scrutinizing gaze.
"What?" I snapped, shifting into a less painful position. There was no easy way for me allow him access to my side without moving my arm out of the way, so I ended up resting my hand on the closer of his arms. His arm was bare against mine and I could almost feel the heat passing through that casual contact. I had my hackles up, waiting for the lecture I could sense coming, but apparently not enough to ignore the hard lines of his forearm against the tender skin of my own or the swell of his bicep under my palm. I could sense a stirring in me at that touch. I was glad that my face was still flushed from the earlier exertion so he couldn't see me blush in embarrassment. All of this I registered in his moment of hesitation, deciding how best to come at me with whatever was on his mind.
"You were drinking," he stated, his face carefully guarded. I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, please. I've been drinking since I started college, and that was almost 8 and a half years ago."
"It's not your drinking that bothers me. It's that you would put both of them at risk, too, because it's obvious neither of them are sober." I squinted my eyes as I studied his face. He was good at masking his thoughts and feelings. I had always envied people who could do that. I, on the other hand, was as easy to read as a large-print novel.
"You must not have a very high opinion of me if you think I would ever willingly put those two in harm's way." It was his turn to pause, studying me.
"I can smell it on you. It's on your breath when you speak." I leaned towards him slightly, challenging him.
"Am I acting any differently right now than I usually do? You say you know the guys were drunk. Is it so easy for you to read the alcohol in my own bloodstream?" He didn't answer, never taking his eyes from mine, but I could swear I saw a flicker of doubt break through his facade. I smirked, leaning back against the wall again. "I lipped the bottle."
"You what?" he asked, frowning.
"I used my lips to keep the alcohol in the bottle while making it seem like I was drinking just as much as the two of them."
"Why would you need to pretend like you were drinking?"
"I wanted them to relax. I thought that maybe I could help them process what had happened, what will happen as I continue to get sicker. That I could somehow make this easier on them."
"And did it work?" I sighed, looking away.
"Doubtful." We were both quiet for a beat. I could feel his eyes on me, and when he answered, his voice was unusually gentle.
"You don't seem like a person who could be easily forgotten." His statement shocked me. Had I found a chink in his armor? Was there something more to this man than the obedient side-kick I had taken him for?
With a harsh screech, the stairwell door was thrown open and several of Daryl's companions jogged through, taking in the eclectic collection of pillow cases and trashbags, loaded down with our haul from next door. Rick, the first one through the door, glanced around the roof before spotting us in the shadow of the little shed. He didn't comment on my state of undress or how near to one another we were, but rather turned to shout down to someone still on the stairs to get the doctor, Hershell. I protested at first, but Daryl insisted that I at least needed some fresh bandaging. Hands as full as they could manage, Rick and the others disappeared through the door, giving Daryl and I a quick moment alone, though I'm sure not intentionally. I couldn't stop thinking about that last comment he had made.
"So what's your story?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"How'd you end up with these guys? Rick and Lorrie and the others." He shrugged at first, making a show of moving my blood soaked rag of a shirt so he could see how badly it was still bleeding. The blood had slowed, my skin making an effort to repair the scab I had disturbed. And then he told me, still not looking at me, about meeting up with this small group of survivors, following his brother's lead in everything. He told me, too, about Rick showing up while Daryl was away and what had transpired between Meryl, his brother, and Rick. I sat there, stunned, as I listened. He had a brother, like me, who could be out there somewhere alive, but with no way to get back to him.
As if my body was acting on its own and I was just an innocent witness, I leaned forward, crossing the small distance between us, and pressed my lips against his. At first they were hard and unyielding and I could feel him tense up at the touch. But then the tension in him eased and he pushed his mouth harder against mine. His kiss was tentative, as if he was waiting for any sign that I had changed my mind. But I didn't. I had never been kissed in a way that made me want more until that moment, and I liked it. It was obvious that he had plenty of experience and knew what he was doing. It was a nice surprise, since the guys I had known in college had been so inept and disappointing. After a few chaste kisses, I parted my lips to pull his bottom lip between them a little. I hadn't moved the hand that was already touching him, but I snaked my other up his shoulder to his neck. The feel of the tight, strained muscles sent a quiver through my belly. As I moved, so did he, running his fingertips slowly across the swell of my breasts above my bra. My nipples hardened against the fabric and I had to stifle a gasp. I was nervous about having him realize just how turned on I was, but when his tongue flicked across the tip of my own through my partially open lips, I opened my mouth wide without a second thought. With that invitation, his hand slipped around my side and pressed against my back, pulling me closer to him as his tongue entered my mouth.
I barely had time to register the taste of him and the exquisite way he touched my tongue with his when there were loud voices in the stairwell. We shot apart like we had been charged with electricity. His hand jerked against the bite in my side painfully at the same time I smacked my head against the brick wall. It didn't hurt, but I flinched anyways in anticipation of the pain. He flinched as well, adjusting his pressure on the shirt pressed to my side.
"Sorry," he mumbled, as Hershel emerged from the stairwell, closely followed by the rest of their group, eager to bring the rest of the supplies down below. Daryl immediately regained his cool composure, seeming not the least bit affected by what had just happened. I wished I was so controlled in that moment. I was sure Hershell could read the incident all over my face as he examined and patched me back up. Daryl left me in the doctor's capable hands and helped the others take the last of the supplies downstairs. The moment had passed and I was more than a little disappointed that it had.