Climb
"But he was just there!" protested Jamaal, as he flattened himself on the ground to look for Trigger.
Daryl walked around to the far side of the clump of bushes. "Here!" he exclaimed. "There's a trail, he came through here!" And without waiting for the others, he began following the signs that only he could see.
"Daryl, wait!" protested Carol, charging after him. When he slowed, she grabbed his arm. "Wait," she said sternly but with tears hovering in her eyes. "We have to check first."
"What are you talkin' about?" asked Daryl.
Carol visibly steeled herself, and then answered. "When Sophia was missing, the worst part was the waiting, the not knowing. And then it turned out she was gone all along, and all the hoping was for nothing." Her voice threatened to break as she continued, "We can't do that again."
Daryl nodded and followed her back the few steps to Trigger's former hiding place. Jamaal was still kneeling there, staring hopelessly at the last place he'd seen his fiancée's son. Together, Carol and Daryl rolled the walker to his back, and then, matter-of-factly, Carol began the grisly process of dissecting its abdomen. Remembering what Herschel had taught her so long ago in preparation for Judith's birth, she located the stomach and pulled it out through the incision she had made. Pulling out his knife, Daryl jumped in, and with no expression on his face, he cut through the stomach lining carefully as Carol held it.
Realizing their purpose, Jamaal became horrified. "Y'all are sick!"
"Trust me, it's better to know," Carol replied kindly.
"There's just a part of a raccoon and maybe somethin' else," Daryl reported gruffly. "Not enough to be a whole kid."
"Ok, then," said Carol, wiping her hands on her pants. "Now we know. What's the plan?"
Daryl rose to his feet. "I'm gonna follow that trail!" he answered, as if it should be obvious.
"Someone needs to let Rick and the others know what's going on," explained Carol. "I'll go. Meet us back at that intersection with the bar when you find him."
Rising from his knees in a fluid motion, Jamaal spoke up. "I'm going with Daryl."
"Fine, but stay outta my way," Daryl said he stalked of in the direction the prints led.
As Carol turned to head back to the group, Jamaal placed his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you," he said simply before releasing her and swiftly heading off behind Daryl.
Back at the intersection, Carol delivered the grim news. Although no one mentioned it, everyone from the original Atlanta group was thinking back to Sophia, and they kept an eye on Carol for signs that it was worrying her.
Rick announced that it was time for lunch, and with the haul from the bar, they had plenty to eat. They would decide what to do after they ate.
At this point in her pregnancy, Maggie was never very comfortable, but she decided that the least uncomfortable place to sit and eat would be in the truck bed with her legs propped up in front of her. Glenn joined her, of course, and she leaned against him as they shared cold cans of green beans and beef stew. He rested his hand on her belly idly, hoping to feel their child kick, but instead, he was startled to feel her muscles tense up unbelievably hard.
"Oh my God, what was that?" he asked.
"I'm pretty sure that was a contraction."
Glenn's face shifted from an expression of surprise to an expression on panic. "You mean it's time-the baby's coming?"
"No, not yet, at least I don't think so," said Maggie. "They call it Braxton-Hicks. Back at the convent, Lexie gave me a book that explained a bit. It's sort of my body's way of getting ready for the delivery. When it's time, they say the contractions will be more regular . . . and a lot stronger."
"That seemed plenty strong."
"Yeah," agreed Maggie.
Glenn hugged her close for a moment, and then went to talk to Rick, who didn't like the idea of Maggie giving birth in that intersection. He'd been mulling over their options, but now his mind was made up.
"Everyone, circle up!" he called. When they had all gathered, he continued, "Maggie could go into labor at any time, and those assholes who held our people hostage said they were part of a larger group. That group might come looking for them at any time, which means we can't all stay here. I'd like to get the truck loaded up and get as many of us as we can up to that clinic. But we also have Daryl and Jamaal and Trigger to think about, so that means someone has to stay behind."
Michonne interrupted before he could ask for volunteers. "I'll stay."
Rick nodded, and Carl chimed in, "Me too."
But Rick was far less certain about leaving his son behind. "I'd like to have you with me, son," he began.
"I want to do it for Daryl," Carl insisted. "And I'll be safe with Michonne, especially when Daryl and Jamaal get back."
Reluctantly, Rick agreed. "Alright, everyone else let's see how much we can pack on the truck and the go-karts."
"Actually the go-karts might not be necessary," Tara interjected with a twinkle in her eye. "The girls have found us a ride."
"Yeah, come check it out," put in Rosita, looking far happier than she had in days.
Behind the bar, covered with a tarp and then piles of branches, the two women had found a limousine. "Looks like somebody came here for a bachelor party," Tara observed.
"And now we are ridin' in style," added Rosita as the two friends shared an elaborate high five.
In no time at all, the group had the truck loaded with nearly everything that was salvageable from the bar. Glenn got the limousine running, and amazingly, it still had a full tank of gas. Everyone was excited about riding in the limo, so Rick offered to drive the truck. Somewhat surprisingly, Carol called shotgun. Glenn was going to drive the limo with Maggie up front, so everyone else rowdily clambered in back, hoping for an easy trip up the mountain.
As they drove away, Tara and Rosita popped up through the limo's sunroof, both of them dancing to music blaring from inside. Laughing, Michonne and Carl waved goodbye. Then they settled in to wait. Of course, they hoped that Daryl and Jamaal would be back any time, but by Michonne's estimate, Rick had left them with enough food to last four people at least five days. She hoped that would be enough.
Out in the woods, Daryl was surprised by how little trouble Jamaal was. Lexie's fiancé said barely anything, and he stayed well behind Daryl so that he wasn't messing up the trail left by the toddler. He was also unexpectedly good at moving through the underbrush quietly.
After about thirty minutes, Daryl's curiosity got the better of him. "You spent time in the woods before?"
"Naw, not before all this happened. I was a city boy. Chicago and then New York."
"You move through the woods pretty quiet for someone who's never been huntin'."
Jamaal laughed mirthlessly. "I was the only boy in my neighborhood who took ballet. And I was on the small side. I learned to sneak through all the alleys and vacant lots real quiet if I wanted to avoid getting beat up."
"Guess that explains it," Daryl acknowledged. They were silent again for a while until Daryl voice the next question that was eating at him. "Why'd you do ballet if it was so much trouble?"
Jamaal chuckled again. "I've been asked that a lot. When I was a teenager, I used to say it was for the girls. Other guys would to act tough, callin' me queer and worse. I used to say, 'I spent my Friday night in a small, sweaty room with two dozen beautiful girls all waitin' their turn for me to put their hands on 'em. You spent your Friday night ridin' around in a car with three other guys. So which of us sounds gay?'" For a moment, Jamaal sounded like the kid from the streets that he must have been then. "That didn't really help with the getting' beat up," Jamaal acknowledged ruefully.
Daryl smiled. "Had to feel good though."
"Yeah, it did," Jamaal agreed. "The truth is, I went on a field trip to see a dance company when I was seven years old. The first part was boring—a bunch of girls in tutus spinning around to classical music. But the second half was different—a contemporary piece. There were men and women leaping and stretching their bodies every which way, and music with a beat. I'd never seen anything like it before. I begged my mom until she let me take dance. Then I was good at it, and it was a way out." His voice trailed off as he got lost in thought for a moment. Drawn back to the present, he asked, "Isn't this awfully far for a two-year-old to have come on his own?"
"Wasn't exactly on his own," replied Daryl.
"What do you mean?"
"See this," said Daryl, pointing at the dirt. "That's walker tracks. One's chasin' 'im. We gotta hurry."
"Oh my God," exclaimed Jamaal, looking up.
"We'll find 'im," Daryl said reassuringly, still gazing at the ground.
"We did," said Jamaal. "Look."
Just ahead was a creek full of the mountain runoff from the recent snow. Precariously perched on a tree jutting over the bank was a very small boy. And at the base of the tree stood a walker, so intent on reaching the child that he was slowly pushing the tree up by its roots. It looked ready to topple any second.
"Oh, shit," said Daryl, and both men rushed forward.
Back at the intersection, Michonne and Carl had decided to hole up in the diner. The smell wasn't as bad as in the bar, and they also had found a checkerboard with most of its pieces. They chatted idly for a while as they pushed their chips around the board. Eventually, Carl brought up the topic that was weighing on his mind.
"This is just like when Sophia got lost."
"Yeah?" asked Michonne. "How so?"
"I forget that you weren't with us then," Carl said. "Sophia ran off into the woods, and my dad found her, just like Jamaal found Trigger. My dad had to leave her, but he told her to hide. Then when he came back she was gone. It's all the same."
"Doesn't mean it's going to end the same," said Michonne, who had heard the story of Sophia emerging from Hershel's barn.
"Daryl looked for her too," recalled Carl. "And me, that's how I got shot," he added with a smile. "And then we met Hershel and Maggie and Beth." He grew quiet, remembering that two of those people were now dead.
Michonne decided it was time to change the subject. "And now Maggie's about to have a baby. Do you think it's going to be a boy or a girl?"
"I kinda hope it's a boy."
On the road to the clinic, the novelty of riding in a limousine had worn off quickly. The road had quickly grown steep and began curving back and forth in an endless series of switchbacks. Eugene was feeling nauseous. Sam and Ron were bickering, and Jessie had a headache. Everyone was feeling like the limo wasn't quite as spacious as they had hoped it would be.
Up front, Maggie's contractions were becoming more regular. She tried to time them surreptitiously using Glenn's watch, but he noticed.
"How far apart are they?"
"Fifteen minutes. Still plenty of time," Maggie said with a smile.
"We'll get there," said Glenn.
"Of course we will."
But they were making very slow progress. In addition to the sharp turns, abandoned vehicles blocked the road in a couple of places, and the narrow road made getting past tricky. Even worse were the cars that had slid off the road, and the walker that had apparently fallen from higher up and was now caught in a tree dozens of feet off the ground. It flailed its arms and legs at the sound of the vehicles approaching, drawing Sam's attention.
"Don't look, baby," Jessie admonished him, when she saw him looking.
He turned his head around to face inside for a moment, but it wasn't long before his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the monster trapped in the trees. It seemed to be waiting for him.
In the truck, Rick and Carol rode in silence, each occupied by their own thoughts. Carol was consumed by two equal worries. First, that Rick, and by extension the rest of the group, would blame her for Lexie's death. Second, that the search for Trigger would end the way the search for Sophia had, and this time it would shatter Daryl. She didn't know if he could survive that again.
Rick was less worried about Daryl, believing his friend could take care of himself. He was concerned about Carol though, rightly divining that this search would remind her of her daughter. His most pressing concern, however, was Maggie. Although he was trying not to admit it to himself, he was terrified that her delivery would end the way Laurie's had.
As the two-vehicle caravan slowly inched its way up the mountain, they came to a spot where a large white SUV had rolled over on its roof and was blocking three-quarters of the road. Rick stopped the truck and got out to examine the situation before proceeding. Glenn soon joined him.
"It'll be a tight fit, but we can make it through. There's a bit of a shoulder here we can use," Rick observed.
"Yeah, OK" Glenn agreed, before adding, "Maggie's going into labor."
Rick clapped him on the shoulder. "We've gotta be close now. We'll get there."
Glenn nodded, and both men returned to their vehicles.
What they didn't realize was that the recent weather had destabilized the road. The freezing and thawing had opened tiny cracks in the soil and asphalt near the edge of the roadway, and though it looked solid, it was poised to slide away at any moment.
As Rick inched the truck forward and slowly maneuvered around the SUV, everything seemed to go fine at first. Suddenly, they heard a clunk from the rear of the pickup as the ground beneath the right rear tire gave way and the truck bottomed out. Thinking fast, Rick gunned the engine, and the three tires still on the road pulled them to safety.
The limousine wasn't as lucky. Because Glenn had been following closely behind Rick, the limo's front passenger tire was now spinning in space. From the back of the vehicle came a chorus of gasps and cries of fright. Doors were flung open on both sides of the car and everyone shifted towards the exits, causing the vehicle to become unbalanced and teeter precariously on the edge of the recently formed hole.
Jumping out of the truck, Rick yelled, "Everyone, stay inside!" Startled, they did as he said, but the limo continued to sway. "Move to the back if you can," Rick ordered. That stabilized the vehicle somewhat, but it was obviously only a short-term solution. Rick locked eyes with Maggie, whose seat was now balanced over the open air. "We'll get you out," he assured her.
At first, Glenn tried the obvious solution, putting the limo in reverse and attempting to back up. But with only one wheel still on the pavement, the front-wheel drive vehicle didn't have enough power to get out of the hole. Instead, spinning the driver's side wheel actually made things worse as more of the roadway fell away.
As Glenn and Rick frantically discussed strategies for getting everyone out without overbalancing the car, the situation grew worse. More of the soil, rocks, and roadway fell away and loudly tumbled down the cliff. The sounds of terror from the back of the limo grew louder, and the vehicle began swaying again.
Eugene suddenly popped his head through the top of the sunroof. "Use the winch in the back of the truck to pull us across," he said authoritatively. "It's the only chance to get us all out. If we start leaving one by one, it's sure to fall down the cliff before we can get Maggie out."
With no better options, Rick quickly put this plan into action, pulling out the winch cable and wrapping it tightly around the front bumper and frame of the limo. Carol drove the truck forward a few more feet, and then, on Rick's signal, Glenn gunned the engine as Rick threw the winch into gear.
The limousine darted forward, and soon both of its right-side wheels were dangling over the nothingness. The vehicle tilted right and then swung forward, banging into the far side of the hole. All the while, more rocks and roadway were slipping away. The limo now hung by the slender cable attached to its front end. The winch began to smoke and the truck slipped back a few inches. Rick pushed the winch to maximum power as Carol stepped on the accelerator inside the truck.
It was enough—barely. The effort pulled the limo's front tires back onto the roadway, and Glenn was able to use his engine to aid in the effort.
Just as the limo cleared the hole completely, the SUV that had been blocking the road began to shift. Soundlessly, it tipped into the hole, and then the group heard a rumble that became a roar as the vehicle's descent began an avalanche of rubble, trees, and rocks that slid down the face of the mountain, bouncing off each of the switchback turns along the way.
"Hey, ugly," Daryl yelled at the walker that had treed Trigger. As it turned, he shot an arrow through its head. But as the dead man fell, it jolted the base of the tree, causing a few more roots to snap.
"Day!" Trigger called cheerfully from up in the tree, unaware of the danger he was in. He started to crawl back down the tree, which was now leaning nearly parallel to the ground over the creek below.
"Stay there!" Daryl ordered.
Having continued forward when Daryl stopped to shoot his crossbow, Jamaal reached the tree. Holding onto it for support, he leaned over the edge of the creek and held his arms out to Trigger, saying, "Come on, I've got you."
Suddenly, they heard a strange rumble like an earthquake. Miles away, the avalanche was tearing down the mountain, and the tremors were carrying through the ground. With a sickening snap, more of the tree gave way. Jamaal dove for Trigger and managed to snag the boy's leg in one hand. He desperately clutched the tree in the other, but his momentum carried him into the creek.
The tree, now nearly snapped in two, was still connected to the bank by a thread. Jamaal was submerged in the rushing water up to his chest, but he had a solid grip on the toddler. "Here, take Trigger!" he called to Daryl.
Lying on his stomach on the muddy bank, Daryl reached out, stretching to take hold of the boy. The water threatened to wash Jamaal and Trigger away at any second, just as it had torn Lexie from him just a few days earlier. But somehow, Daryl was able to grab the boy's arm and pull him to safety.
With both hands now free, Jamaal could pull himself closer to the bank. Daryl helped him the rest of the way, and within a few seconds, both men sat safely on the muddy bank.
"What was that?" Jamaal asked, still panting from exertion.
"I don't know," Daryl replied. "But it wasn't good."
As Trigger scooted himself into Daryl's lap, Daryl looked over at Jamaal. "Thank you," he said sincerely. Jamaal nodded then added, "Thank you."
No longer afraid, Trigger joyfully clasped Daryl in a hug. "Day come!" he shouted excitedly.
With that, Daryl lost it, smiling as tears spilled from his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Daryl will always come to get you."
Driving fast, the truck and limousine screeched to a halt beside a green, single-wide trailer with brown trim. A fading sign proclaimed this to be Appalachian Health, while a separate entrance to the small building led to the tiny joint OB-GYN/family practice office. Glenn gathered Maggie in his arms and rushed toward the door, which Rick was already kicking in.
Gun drawn, Rick quickly cleared the tiny trailer. Dust coated everything, making it obvious no one had been here for months at least. Carol quickly flung open cupboards and closets looking for supplies. Maggie panted out the breaths that were supposed to help with the labor pains, while Glenn held her hand. "You're doing great," he offered.
"I didn't think it would hurt this much," she said, pain etched on her features.
"What can we do?" Glenn asked Carol.
"Just keep breathing, Maggie," Carol said. "Your body is doing what it needs to do."
Loaded onto two of the go-karts, Daryl, Carl, Trigger, Michonne, and Jamaal pulled to a stop. The remains of a landslide covered the road in front of them, and a beat-up SUV poked its hood out of a pile of dirt and debris. Looking up, they could see where the avalanche had passed across the seemingly endless series of switchbacks.
"Guess we know what that rumbling was," observed Jamaal.
"What about the others?" worried Carl. "My dad, my sister, are they OK?"
The adults shared a few meaningful glances before Daryl replied. "I don't see the truck or the limo, so hopefully, they're fine. Rick woulda kept going to get Maggie to the clinic."
"These go-karts aren't going to be able to get any farther," said Jamaal.
"No, they won't," said Michonne, "but we might be able to get through on foot."
"Yeah, but what if there's another avalanche?" wondered Carl. "What are we going to do?"
"Now we climb," said Daryl, as if that settled the matter. He swung Trigger up onto his shoulders and headed across the huge pile of dirt covering the road, leaving the others to follow as best they could.