I'm going to start putting the replies to reviews at the bottom, kids. That cool with everyone...it clutters up the top and I don't want to be that asshole.
Hey, thanks for the reviews and those of you who don't review but enjoy the story, you're cool cats, babies. All of you!
Chapter Eleven: Erzulie Jan Petro
**Milton**
They would need more candles soon.
Eyeing the sputtering, popping votive that flickered on the two-by-four ledge bracer of the interior of the shack, Milton Mamet pondered whether they could keep bees somewhere on the lawns if only for the wax to make new candles.
Though he wasn't quite sure what made the best wick. Cotton perhaps.
Putting down the psychology book he had been reading, he arched his back, trying to pop it back into working condition. The book wasn't great, but it was the only one the small town library had on the subject.
It was better than nothing.
Slipping his legs over the cot, he stood up. Nothing helped the thought process better than a midnight stroll. Maybe he'd pop over to visit his lady friend, check on her decay progress.
He had been timing the decay process for the infected without food to eat, hoping that there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. If they could starve, then the epidemic would be over quicker, there would still be stragglers, late comers to the world of the walking dead, but if they eventually starved, it meant soon all traces of the en masse would be gone.
Wandering through the dark of the convent yard, he pondered the placement of a few key structures that could be place to make better use of the grounds.
"Solar panels," he stopped suddenly, searching the area around him for a good spot, before his eyes landed on the steeple of the church. "Wind turbine…at least for the water pump…we could have running water from the wells, pumped by wind power. No more outhouse…we could save time with bathing too…install some communal showers…no too frivolous, maybe…but it would boost morale…we need more entertainment."
"You want me to sing and dance?"
Stopping his journey, he peered about, finding Karen tucked into a shadowy area of the side of the dorms.
"Karen," he greeted quietly. "I didn't see you there."
"Yeah, feel invisible these days, but better than the alternative," she hooked her arm with his boldly. "Where we going?"
Thrown by her bold move, but too much of a gentleman to shake her off, he tilted his head towards the east wall. "I have a lady friend I want to visit."
"Really?" Karen asked eyeing him.
"She's infected."
Her eyebrows rose.
"She's already turned. I have her tied to a tree."
"Jesus, you sure know how to treat a lady, Milton."
"I…what?"
"That was a joke. So why the biter?"
"Research," he replied.
"Oh."
"I'm thinking of furthering my study into their pack habits." He said.
"Pack habits?"
"They cluster together, move as one if there's more than two in a group, why? Animal instinct, perhaps. I'm thinking on a base level they're still connected to their animal instinct, if we can predict their migratory patterns—"
"Migratory patterns?"
"I believe they change location with the weather, they move around more in cooler areas, in rain, however, they slowed down in the winter. But I believe this has more to do with frozen joints, due to reduced blood circulation in their extremities, however I can't be sure without…" he trailed off watching her look around. "I'm boring you, I apologize."
"It's okay, Milton, I'm used to it." Clamping her hand on his upper arm as they walked, she nodded in the direction of Michonne walking the wall.
"What do you think of these people, Milton? What's the skinny on them?" She asked him.
"Skinny?" He furrowed his brow. "Oh…you want information." He adjusted his glasses and eyed the convent around them. "Uh, well, they're made up in part of the prison group the Governor waged war on and nuns from the convent, with the exception of a few others who wandered in…I believe Tyreese and his sister, uh, the Lieutenant is military, obviously, the little girl, Annie, others maybe."
"I meant are they good people? Can we trust them?"
"Seems as good as any," he replied. "But then again I thought the Governor was a good man…I may be a terrible judge of character."
"So, who is the leader around here? Do we need to worry about them?"
"That's a good question," Milton looked about as though he might find the answer. "I know Rick is the leader of the prison group, but I don't know if he's in charge here."
"What about that soldier? Vancoughnett?"
"I don't think so," Milton said as they reached the wall. "Think he's fonder of following orders than giving them."
"But he's a Lieutenant. He's used to them, isn't he?"
"One would hope."
"What about the scruffy one?"
"Merle's brother? I don't think so either, he's…too wild." Unwinding his arm from hers, Milton eyed the wall, before hopping up onto a nearby crate and lunging at it. He flushed when he felt a hand pushing up his foot and scrambled onto the top of the wall.
Karen followed him up quietly and sat at his side.
"Where is she?" He demanded.
Feeling a sinking emotion in his gut, Milton half sulked, half huffed. "I needed her. She was part of my research on decay."
"Maybe her ropes loosened?"
"This is utterly disappointing," he murmured.
"Milton?" Karen demanded softly.
"Poor thing, she's out there rotting away and not being any use to the scientific world. It's a waste of…I captured her myself, felt a little responsible."
"Milton?"
He frowned and looked over at her. "What?"
"Are we safe here?"
"I'd say so, yes."
"Because I'm beginning to think they're keeping something from us."
"Oh?"
"Where their men went when Merle came with the others to Woodbury. Why our men didn't return, something is not adding up."
Milton swallowed thickly. He'd never been a good liar. "I'm sure you're just scared, Karen."
"Every day we return to Woodbury there are less and less people, how long do we fuck around with diplomacy before there's no one left to extend it to? They're our people, Milton, yours and mine, now what is going on around here?"
"Well, aside from the theft of my research subject, nothing, Karen. I think you're just getting tense and a little nervous."
"If you're lying to me—"
"The only time I'd ever lie to you is if I were trying to keep you safe, Karen," he explained calmly. "They're my people too, you and Noah are my people and I do care."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
Milton cleared his throat. "You know…you're lumped in with the others, is what I meant."
"Swear to me that Noah is safe here with these people," she urged.
"I swear to you, nothing with harm you," he stated, adding quickly, "both."
They turned back to face the woods.
"I liked her," Milton sighed. "I had hopes for the research done with her."
"Well, maybe she hasn't gone far, after we head to Woodbury tomorrow morning we'll look for her."
"I'd appreciate that, Karen. Thank you."
She patted his back warmly. "I've got the time, Milton, and your research is always important if it means helping us, even a little."
Milton blinked at her. He didn't think anyone other than Philip had taken an interest in his work. He didn't think it mattered to anyone but himself.
"I had an idea earlier," he began almost nervously, searching her face to see if she would be interested to hear it.
She blinked her brown eyes at him, raising her brows slightly in curiosity.
He took that as a sign. "If we could hook a wind turbine to the steeple of the church, we could generate enough power to maybe run a water pump. We might be able to pump water from the wells for the convent bathrooms to run, maybe some lights at night."
Karen beamed at him. "Running water sounds so luscious right now."
Milton returned the smile. "I'd need to study up on wind turbine power, but I think the steeple is high enough that it would work."
"I could sit here all night," Karen mused.
Milton nodded.
"But Father O'Rourke asked me to sit in on the infirmary watch tonight," she explained, pushing to her feet.
Milton scrambled to stand on the wall too. "I could help you. I need to get my mind off my research for a bit, anyways."
"Okay, I could use the company. Besides, I want to get a good look at these people, can't say I'm not nosey," she exclaimed, hopping off the wall before he could offer her a hand down.
Standing with his hand in mid-air, Milton quickly dropped it and followed her, less spryly to the ground.
Just as they started for the infirmary, Sister Joan emerged.
"Do you mind watching, he's awake and Grace wanted to be informed when he came to," she greeted them.
"Not at all," Karen said. "Does he seem mad?"
"More…how do I put this in a Christian manner? He's kind of an arrogant sort, rubbed me the wrong way," the woman muttered, moving off towards the gate where Carol and Grace had taken up a joint watch.
Stepping the infirmary, Milton allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim, candlelit interior.
On their cots, Daryl and the Lieutenant were both awake and aware of the man struggling to sit up in his own bed.
In the fourth bed nearest the door the woman and her child huddled quietly, looking like they had been roused from sleep as well.
"You in charge around here?" The man demanded calmly, patting himself down before pulling out a pack of rumpled cigarettes. His face looked like hell and under any other circumstances Milton would gladly let him smoke downwind from him, but he really was worried about fire in the infirmary.
Both Karen and Milton shook their heads.
"You shouldn't smoke in here," Milton finally worked up the courage to point out. "There are oxygen tanks in the next room."
Eyeing him, the stranger quirked a brow, before shaking a cigarette out and lighting it with a nearby candle, he tucked it into his mouth and let it dangle. "Come take it from me, Darwin."
Milton frowned.
"That's what I thought, evolution of man, I'm bigger than you."
"Put it out," the Lieutenant suggested.
Looking the soldier up and down, the man shrugged, before looking past him to Daryl. "You smoke, Shaggy?"
"Put it out," Daryl snarled.
Inhaling deeply, the man sighed. "Well, since you two seem tied up at the moment, looks like unless Darwin makes me, I get to do what I want."
"How about I make you?" Karen inquired.
"Alright," he sighed, taking one last deep inhale, before knocking the cherry off the end of the cigarette and stamping the little ball of flaming orange ash with his calloused thumb on the side table. "Since I'm scared of you," he replied with a small smile. "Scariest one in the damned room…" he trailed off.
"Sir," Grace entered with the mien of a Queen, heading straight for his bedside, Carol close behind her. "Good to see you're finally with us."
"Well, good Lord, aren't you a pretty little thing."
"Small I may be, sir, but I'm also a lady," Grace returned brusquely.
The man beamed. "Of course, my apologies."
"My name is Grace Harper and this is my convent you're recovering in."
"Looks like a clinic of some kind," he returned.
"This is our infirmary and that would be where you'd introduce yourself as a gentleman would," Grace stated.
The man beamed at her, split lip breaking open again. "Who I am depends entirely on who you are."
"I told you—"
"No, your people, I mean. I can be one of many things, sweetheart, one of them being charitable but only for friends."
Milton could see Grace wasn't at all afraid of the man as she clasped her hands before her, rifle on her back.
"Well, charity is a true kindness of man, sir." Grace replied. "And if you won't give me a name, I feel the need to name you myself, I suppose in that way you'd be like a dog."
"Convent, you say?" He eluded her comments and questions smoothly. "How interesting. I'm assuming you're all nuns and such?"
"Some of us, yes." She replied.
The man eyed her, then Carol, then Karen at the door. "Well, that is a shame."
Milton could see the men on the beds tensing and understood their concern. The man was too interested in the women.
"So, you're the head of state around these parts? That is very interesting, where I'm from not many women lead."
"That's too bad. I've been given to understand women can be fully capable of leading."
The man smirked. "You can lead me anytime, precious."
Turning his head, the man eyed the woman and child quietly, calmly, reaching for the cigarette he just put out and tucking it in between his lips. "You treat them nicely?" He asked, cigarette bouncing.
"They've been fed and we offered them a bed to sleep in, but they refused to leave your side, sir."
"Refused to…well isn't that adorable," he murmured.
"They show deep loyalty to you, sir."
"No, they don't. They follow me because I keep them safe and feed them. Loyalty is something I don't have the privilege of possessing from them." He motioned to his smoke. "Mind if I?"
"I'd rather you didn't."
"Tell you what, precious, you give me one smoke and I'll give you one name, sound good?"
Grace nodded slightly and the man lit his cigarette almost gleefully.
Milton didn't miss the subtle ashing the man did in the direction of the Lieutenant and Daryl.
"Cash," he said, exhaling.
"Well, Mr. Cash, as our guest, we'll give you medical care, food and safety and at the end of it all when you feel better you may choose to leave or stay. From what I heard, you don't seem to have people who'd do you any good."
"Where's Madonna?" He asked suddenly.
Grace furrowed her brow.
"My car? Where's my lady?"
"That piece of junk is a scrap heap sitting on the highway," Daryl snarled.
"You best watch your tone when you talk about my lady, Shaggy," the man growled darkly.
"You're lucky your dumb assed driving didn't get you killed in that rust bucket," Daryl stated.
"You're lucky I'm chained to this bed, asshole, I'd come over there and kick your commie ass for insulting her," the man returned. "Donna's never had rust," he muttered.
"Will you promise us you'll be kind towards our people, Mr. Cash?" Grace asked, breaking up the fight fluidly.
"I have no interest in making more enemies, precious."
"Seems odd, considering the shitty attitude you woke up with," the Lieutenant broke in calmly.
Milton felt the Arctic chill in his tone and tensed.
"Got something you want to say, Pretty Boy? Speak up," Cash said.
"I've said my piece."
Narrowing his eyes, Cash exhaled. "What are you, retarded or something?"
"I'm Cajun."
"So…half retarded then? Fair enough, Pretty Boy."
Everyone paused, waiting to see if the Lieutenant would take the man's bait.
When the soldier seemed content to ignore the man, Daryl was the one to get his ire up.
"Hey, fuck-hole, why don't you shut your dirty assed mouth before I come over there and slam my foot in it?" He shouted.
"What are you, his redneck lover? I heard all the military boys are as bent as boomerangs…"
"That is enough!" Grace commanded, silencing the entire room with her normally sweet, polite voice ringing off the walls. "Mr. Cash, you are a guest here and may I suggest acting a little more civil towards our people. Especially the men who saved you from those who would do you grave harm."
The man eyed her calmly, before tilting his head. "I apologize, precious. I tend to rile the masses, suppose that's a flaw I should work on. I'll tell you what, let me smoke at my leisure while I'm laid up and I'll be gentle as a lamb."
Grace smiled. "That sounds like a fair deal, Mr. Cash. Break it and I'll let the Lieutenant break your jaw, I'm sure he's planning it anyways."
Beaming up at her, the man eased back in the bed, flopping against his pillows. "You are a pretty little she-wolf, aren't you? I like that in a woman."
"I'm a fair woman, Mr. Cash, but I dislike men who go back on their word. Do I have your word to be nice?"
He nodded. "I'll be sweet as a puppy."
Milton wondered how long that would last. The man seemed like he enjoyed picking fights. God help them all if Merle's opposing force met with the new man's conflicting nature.
The Voodoo Dialect
Erzulie Jan Petro – Erzulie Jan Petro is a violent sea spirit loa. Jan Petro is called upon to take responsibility for the temple where spells are on display; although she is a neutral entity, when not called upon it is the duty of the devotees to make them behave peacefully or violently, depending on their motivation for dealing with the spirits. Jan Petro as a protector of temples is very powerful. Due to being a sea spirit, Jan Petro likes fresh air and water. She likes perfume and lotion-any temple dedicated to her usually smells like lotion, for it is thrown on those things she possesses.
DarylDixon'sLover - Thank you!
Ms Q - Some things are best left in the dark, huh?
peonies01 - I'm glad you agree with me on the Carol thing. I don't think she'd be out rightly cruel to him, she'd probably wait for a good time to settle things with him quietly and calmly.
Whooptiedoo - I just want to hug Rick. I say it all the time, but it's true. He's like a lanky, scruffy teddy bear.
Jack And Honey - I agree. I'm hoping Merle comes into his own more through all this junk that's happening. I'd like to see him give some help to Carl...after they've both finished hating each other with a white hot rage.
Yazzy x - Poor Rick, he needs someone to talk to, I think.
Merle's Right Hand - If you were on the show you would have laid the smack down on him by now...and that's why I love you.
Brazen Hussy - Carl hate fuels me. ^_^
songbird1313 - He. Killed. Them. All. *intense Rick face* ^_^
HGRHfan35 - Yeah, I think that's the slope Carl is headed down. He's becoming too cold and detached to things.
itsi3 - I agree with all those worries. Carol is such a lovely character to lose.
amber24-03 - Trust me, this story is only just beginning there may be more heat and passion then you'd expect.
Tigerlily xoxo - Shit happens. (Love crazy Rick) ^_^
Axelrocks - Yeah, I think Rick is too busy being a leader, he's neglecting being a father...
Supfan - Cripes, I hope things are going to get better for you. It's probably not much, but I enjoy your reviews and think you're a lovely person. ^_^
SilverWolf84 - I need more girl talk in this story...I feel a lack of girl talk.
GG - I think Grace's anger is more over him being out when he's not 100%, I feel like she's made peace with him going beyond the walls...just not with broken ribs and stitches everywhere.
