I'm sorry I went MIA for almost 2 weeks. I was consumed in other ventures. I decided to make this chapter extra long for your viewing pleasure. Hope you don't hate me and you enjoy the update! As always, leave me some feedback to enjoy in the meantime!
Our plane landed nearly twenty minutes ago. We had been told to remain in our seats until we could un-board the plane. From our seats we could hear blood curdling screams.
Half of the plane jumped out of their seats. "The fuck is going on?" Screamed one gentleman.
The stewardess looked as shocked as us. "Please, remain calm. There's been an incident. We've had to quarantine the airport. It should be under control soon."
I was stunned in my place, staring out my window as people ran in all directions like ants.
"The fuck you say! MSNBC says the virus from New York is spreading! Half of California is on lockdown, all the tollbooths in New York are shutting down! What the fuck is going on?" Yelled another man, waving his cell phone in the air wildly.
"We have to get off this plane!" Screamed a woman, holding her crying daughter.
"We're trying to get things under control. I can't unlock the doors." The stewardess said.
Just then, something slammed against the door of the plane from the outside.
"What was that!?"
"I'll be right back! I have to go to the pilot and see how things are going." The stewardess explained. She walked back to the front of the plane and moments later we heard screaming. She came running back down the aisle, blood pouring down her throat as she held her neck. She was followed closely by the pilot, drenched in blood, looking very much not like a person. His skin was gray, sallow. His eyes were bloodshot and he was making this sickening gurgling sound.
The men ran forward, trying to work the latch on the door. Another man jumped his seat and pushed the pilot backwards, grabbing a bottle from the drink cart and bashing it into the wall before he stabbed him in the temple. The gurgling stopped. The stewardess lay on the ground in a lifeless heap.
The other passengers finally got the door opened and I jumped up, grabbing my carry on and running to the terminal shortly behind them. Something grabbed my ankle. A hand. I looked at my ankle in shock and horror as I realized it was the stewardess latched to my leg, only she wasn't herself. She looked like the pilot, gurgling and hissing as she drug herself closer, trying to chomp on my leg.
"What the fuck!" I screamed. I kicked her in the face and she growled at me.
Another man jumped on her head from his seat, his bag in hand. "Go!" He yelled, almost pushing me.
I took off, full force down the corridor, cursing the airport for confiscating weapons on the plane. All hell was breaking lose around me and I had absolutely no way to protect myself.
I made it to the terminal and watched as people ran, screaming, shooting and cursing as more of those once human creatures chased them. I jumped the chairs in the waiting area and ran to a near by Jamba Juice, already abandoned. Something reached for my leg again, ripping my jeans in the process but I didn't stop this time, I flipped my legs over the counter and landed hard, opening the door behind the counter and running through the back room. I opened another door and found a back hallway, looking abandoned as well. At the end, was a door that read 'EXIT' in neon red letters. I ran for it. I heard a loud click and an arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back, a door shut behind me. "What the fuck!"
"Calm down! Look, it's not safe out there."
"Let go of me, Rambo! Jesus Christ!" I pushed him backwards, falling backwards myself at the blunt force I exerted.
"Hey! We're trying to help!" Said a girl in a Jamba Juice uniform. "Look, I'm Sadie. This is Greg. We work here. We tried to get out the exit, but it's blocked. We figured we'd hide out here. Not many people know this room even exists. We'll be safe until the quarantine is lifted."
I looked to 'Greg', now picking himself up. He was dressed as a security guard, but he looked less than intimidating. He was scrawny, couldn't be older than 25, if even that.
I looked around the room. We had a couch, a few vending machines, and a television, set to a news broadcast on NBC. They were explaining the situation at hand, using words like "virus", "quarantine", and "avoid contamination."
I leaned back against the door, sinking to the floor with a heavy sigh.
"Rise and shine! We've got problems." Carol alerted me before dawn one morning.
"What?" I muttered, pulling my pillow tighter over my head.
"It's Katie. She's awful sick. She's asking for you."
I shot out of bed, running through the prison in my pajamas and bare feet, Carol not far behind me. "What is it?" I asked in a hushed yell.
"Fever, vomiting, diarrhea, the works. Hershel's sitting with her, but there's not much we can do with what we have."
They took Katie from the common room and brought her into the library so she wouldn't wake the other children. Hershel was at her side with Beth and I dropped beside her cot on the other side.
"Hi baby. How ye feelin'?" I tried to keep a brave face. She was covered in a cold sweat and I kissed her forehead, brushing her damp hair back and feeling the burning fever.
"It hurts." She wheezed, doubling over in pain.
"I think it's food poisoning." Hershel admitted.
"You think? Or you know?" I snapped.
"That's probably what it is." Carol said.
"We don't have much for it." Hershel admitted, going through the box on his lap. "Tylenol to slow the fever and help with the cramps, but she's going to dehydrate soon."
"That's seriously all the medicine we have?" I asked, looking at the small box. Hershel nodded solemnly. "We didn't take anything from Woodbury?" He looked at me as if I had grown two heads. "Hold tight, sweetie. I'm gonna see what I can do. We'll get you better soon, okay?" I kissed her cheek and ran in search of Rick.
Carl was alone with Judith in their cell, so Rick had to have been outside somewhere patrolling. I didn't see anyone in the yard, so I went all the way out to the reconstructed guard tower and yelled his name. I saw the tip of his rifle first, peering over the guard rail, then his face came into full view. "I need to talk to you."
"Be right down." He descended the stairs and was finally face to face with me. "What's the matter?"
"Katie. She got food poisoning, no doubt from the inhumane conditions here."
"I'm sorry. It will pass." He said.
"Rick, you didn't get any of the medicine or medical supplies from Milton's office in Woodbury. I want to go back. We'll need a lot of the stuff here sooner or later. Katie needs electrolytes, more Tylenol."
He looked away for a moment, in deep concentration. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, so I continued. "It's a simple run, I can do it alone."
"No, you can go. If you leave now you can get back before sunrise. One condition – take Daryl."
"Daryl? I'm not sure if that's the best idea."
"It's either him or John." He shrugged. "Glenn and Tyreese just got finished overnight duty. You'll need a man's help. You can't go alone."
"Fine," I sighed. There was no way in herll I was going with John after I broke his nose. "I'll go get Daryl." I muttered, wrapping my arms across my chest, suddenly aware of the chill in the autumn air. I went back inside and climbed the stairs to Daryl's stoop at the top. "Dare?" He was on his side, arms crossed on his chest. He wasn't actually asleep. He didn't sleep like that. I sat on the edge of his cot and his legs recoiled away from me. "Daryl!"
"What?"
"I need your help with somethin'. Can you get up?"
"Sure I can, do I want to?" He asked, rolling over to face me.
"It's Katie. She's sick. I need backup to go to Woodbury to get medicine."
"Is that the best idea you got?"
"Rick asked me to get you. If you don't wanna go, I can get John." I shrugged, knowing well that he wouldn't let me go anywhere alone with John, whose nose was still in bandages since our last encounter.
"Git dressed. Meet you downstairs." He mumbled, kicking off his blanket and slipping his feet into his boots.
I got dressed in record time, opting for jeans, boots, and a sweater. I grabbed my bayonet, putting it in my back pocket as usual, and my M89. I found Daryl outside by The Crusher. "You wanna drive?" I asked, dangling the keys. I thought the gesture was a nice start to an apology. He nodded, tossing his crossbow in the backseat and delving into the driver's seat. I hopped in beside him and Rick opened the gates to let us out of the prison yard.
Some of the walkers followed us from the yard about half way down the road. Daryl stopped the truck until they caught up, then reversed and pulled forward, crushing most of them in the center of the road. The smile on his face as he did so reminded me of when we were teenagers and sent a familiar pang to the apex of my thighs.
"I'll stop pestering you." I said abruptly, without thinking.
"Wouldn't be the same if you weren't annoyin' as all get out." He said, not taking his eyes off the road.
"You missed me gettin' on yer nerves?" I smirked. He just shrugged and kept driving. The flood lights on the SUV more than illuminated the way to my old community.
"What's yer plan if the Governor is back there?" Daryl asked.
Honestly, I hadn't thought about that. I was only worried about the sick little girl at the prison. "I think we could handle it. It's just him, Martinez and Shumpert left, right. You've handled yourself under worse odds with bare fists, before." He laughed modestly. "Martinez wouldn't touch me. Shumpert's a pussy. The only one I'd be worried about is the Governor."
"Ye ain't gotta worry about the Governor. If I see 'im, I'll be takin' his other eye."
We pulled up to the blockade and got out. The gate only opened from the inside, so we'd have to climb the overturned semi and make it to the other side. Gratefully, we had closed the gate behind us so Woodbury seemed relatively untouched, like a ghost town on the other side, preserved in time.
"Ye know where yer goin'?" I nodded, hugging my rifle to my chest and walking down the street. "Milton's lair was underneath the Governor's apartment. This way." The familiar building was in sight. I opened the door with a creak and walked inside. I led Daryl to the stairs that led to the long hallway to Milton's quarters. It was eerily quiet. The only noise was my boots, squeaking along the linoleum floor.
"Can ye walk any louder?" Daryl mumbled, his crossbow raised as he followed me to the door we were searching for. There was a padlock on the latch. "Got anymore bright ideas?" He scoffed.
"Hold this." I handed him my rifle. I spun the lock in a combination until it clicked and popped open. Daryl stared at me wide-eyed as I pulled the lock off and dropped it to the floor, taking back my gun. "October 25, 2011. 10-25-11. The day Woodbury was founded." I shrugged, pushing the door open, and slipping inside, looking around cautiously and finding the coast clear before going through his drawers.
"Guy kept a lot o' notes." Daryl muttered, going through the papers on his desk.
"He thought we were going to be in the history books. Thought keeping records was important for mankind. One of these cabinets has the medicine, can you help me look?"
"Yes ma'am." He laughed, throwing his crossbow over his shoulder and opening cabinets with me. "You care about that little girl." He stated blankly.
"A lot of the kids are orphans, Dare. They don't have anyone else." I opened another set of cabinets, more like an armoire and found exactly what I was looking for. "Jackpot." I tossed the empty duffle I had carried in onto the floor and opened it wide to start stuffing things in. Daryl came over and muttered something about another box. "My room's upstairs." I said and he raised his brow at me. "I might have another bag, Daryl." I held my hands up innocently. "Not trying anything anymore." I crossed my heart. "Promise." I got up and started climbing the stairs. Daryl followed close behind me. "You know I can make it up the stairs by myself, right?"
"Wanted to look around." He shrugged.
"What's the matter, can't just stand around lookin' pretty?" I mocked.
He shot me a glare, shaking his head and changing the subject. "Ye lived in this building?"
"Yep, my apartment, Martinez's, Milton's, Merle's and the Governor's."
"Merle too?" He asked.
"Yeah, second floor, beside Phillip's. Ye wanna go look."
"S'alright. We ain't gotta."
"You're sure?" He nodded as we reached the first floor. It looked like a typical house. We had an empty kitchen we never used, then the living room which was also bare save for a chair by the window. At the end of the hall were two doors. Mine was left open. I twisted the other to check. The lock snapped open and the door opened without a problem. I found the room pristine and organized, just as he'd left it. "They haven't been here."
"This was Martinez's room?"
"Yeah."
"Pansy made the bed?" I laughed at Daryl's observation. "He stayed across from you?"
"Kept a close eye on me, tried to keep me out of trouble." I said, entering my room. I went straight to my closet, digging around for some bags.
"I ain't the only man tried to get a handle on ye." He muttered under his breath. His voice was deep enough to carry and I heard every word, but chose to ignore it.
"I'm gonna grab more of my clothes, Dare." I tossed him a bag. "You can wait, or maybe go finish grabbing supplies?" I started grabbing clothing and tossing it into another duffle bag and heard my mattress shift behind me.
"Ye had a nice life here, princess."
"The bed was more comfortable. We had power. I could shower." I sighed, remembering just how long it had been since I had done anything more than a TPA bath at the prison. I spun around to face him. "But I wasn't happy here."
"What would make ye happy?"
I sighed as I zipped the bag and tossed it over my shoulder. This was definitely not the time or place for me to pour my heart out to Daryl Dixon only to get it stomped on again. "Let's get out of here, Dixon."