Chapter Fourteen: Ayezan II
**Carol**
Beside her in the truck Grace eyed the passing countryside with calm interest.
She supposed the woman hadn't been outside the convent except to attend Maggie's funeral and was pleased to be taking in new scenery.
With four of them crammed in the cab of the truck, it was hard to get a good view, but even Carol enjoyed the fleeting glimpses of the unattended fields and thick forests of the Georgian roadside, as they swung down the secondary highway, heading for Woodbury.
Sitting between Michonne at the wheel and the two women, Karen smiled over at Grace and Carol, eyes darting to check on Milton who was riding in the back of the truck, huddled over to avoid the wind and cold.
"I'm sorry you two have to do this," she said. "I wish it was easier for us to just get together."
Carol offered her a small smile. "We don't mind."
"It's understandable that the people of Woodbury would be hesitant," Grace added.
"What's the situation there? Really?" Carol asked.
Sighing heavily, Karen turned her eyes to the highway ahead of them. "Um, well a lot of us left, only the sick and old remain behind, but they're still the most important ones. They need help more than anyone. Right now Mr. Cole is in charge, but everyday there's people missing and gone. What Milton and I are starting to worry about is lack of security. There are not enough healthy people to watch the gate anymore."
"What's the threat level like?" Grace asked softly.
Carol eyed her. The woman had never really dealt with walkers before, she wasn't sure Grace would be ready if anything went wrong, but she was determined to cover her if she needed it. Carol couldn't imagine returning to the convent without Grace, she didn't want to think of the Lieutenant's reaction to losing her.
Thinking of this, Carol reached over and took Grace's hand in hers.
"The threat is low. We get stragglers, but nothing on a grand scale."
Pulling up to the gate of Woodbury, Karen hopped out to give Milton coverage as he moved to open the gate for the truck.
Carol peered around, taking in the lack of walkers with a small sigh of relief.
Pulling into Woodbury, Michonne honked the horn twice, letting those inside know they weren't a threat as Karen and Milton closed up the gate behind them.
Carol took in the empty street, the boarded up buildings with cautious eyes.
As the truck pulled to a stop and they all hopped out, Karen and Milton caught up, eyeing the area quietly.
"Which building?" Grace asked, adjusting the pack on her back, resting her .22 against the truck as she did so.
"Just over here," Milton motioned. "We told them to barricade themselves up during the day."
Carol was about to follow Milton, when she spied Grace putting her rifle back into the truck cab.
She paused eyeing the woman, unable to form the words to tell her that was a horrible idea, but Grace tapped the cross at her breast gently, wordlessly explaining her reasoning.
For a moment Carol reached out to grip the rifle and hand it back to Grace, but she hesitated.
Maybe weapon wielding nuns wouldn't be well received.
Briefly touching the knife hidden among the black folds of her own habit, Carol frowned, before setting her rifle inside the cab as well. Smoothing down her robes quickly and quietly she followed the others towards the building, leaving Michonne to watch over the truck.
The building they headed for was an old turn-of-the-century looking brick monster, probably the best thing to hole up inside should a herd wander through, and Carol could tell by the way it was boarded up, it was fortified against such a thing.
Crossing the wide main street, they eyed the town.
It was as empty as any place, no sign of life or unlife and the eerie calm and stillness unnerved her.
She had never been to Woodbury, had expected it to be somehow nicer, more polished, less end of the world looking and more suburban dream.
Maybe she had been wishing it was. Maybe she was hoping at least one place still retained a small amount of dignity.
Reaching the boarded up door to the building, Milton rapped on it in a rapid, planned pattern and waited, hand nervously and awkwardly adjusting the pistol at his hip.
Carol eyed him, before glancing behind them cautiously, ensuring the street was still empty. Finding Michonne hopping onto the roof of the truck, she smiled gently and turned back to the door.
Milton knocked again, louder.
At her side Grace shifted in her spot.
Karen glanced over at Milton after a minute or two of nervous waiting.
"Maybe you'd better go get the guns," Grace whispered to Carol.
She nodded and turned, hurrying across the street for the truck, picking up the hem of her habit so as not to trip on it. Hopping off the curb, she paused when a movement caught her eye, moving around the corner of the brick building to her left.
Milton caught sight of the walkers just as she did and he froze, hand on his gun.
About five of them came around the corner, more following.
They looked fairly new to the undead set and hungry and like they freshly fed.
Karen and Grace noticed the walkers, and all four of them backed away slowly.
Realizing that Milton's gunfire would bring more (if there was any) to their location, Carol pulled the large combat knife from its leather sheath and stepped forward, moving to stand beside Milton, putting herself between Grace and Karen and the walkers as more spilled from around the corner.
"Get inside," she ordered them.
Clumsily pushing open the door into the brick building, Karen pushed Grace and Milton inside, Carol bringing up the rear as the walkers collided against the door just a hair's breadth behind them, clawing and pounding at the door.
Throwing herself against the door to keep it closed, Carol struggled to find grip on the ceramic tile inside the building.
"Jesus," Grace muttered behind her.
Throwing a quick glance over her shoulder, Carol found the large, open room beyond the narrow front hall littered with bodies.
Karen raised her rifle as a few of them began to move.
Beneath her hands the door bumped and jarred open.
"The roof," Milton said, pushing Grace in the direction of a set of narrow stairs beside the door.
Really it looked like the only option at the moment.
Holding the door long enough for the others to get moving up the stairs, Carol gave it one last desperate shove, before scurrying after them up the stairs.
Halfway up she tripped on the habit and fell hard on the steps, her chin colliding with the edge of a stair. Ignoring the pain in her jaw, she picked herself up and hurried onwards, trailing after the others.
They reached a small room where a ladder led up to a hatchway and Carol watched the door as Karen forced Grace up the ladder first.
As Karen followed, Carol and Milton covered them as the first of the walkers reached the top of the stairs.
Milton shot his pistol, but seemed to be only winging the walkers.
Without thinking too much outside of survival Carol grabbed the pistol, burning her hand on the barrel in the process and exchanged the knife for it, taking aim and knocking a few walkers back clogging the narrow hall.
"Go," she ordered Milton, grabbing her knife back as the pistol was empty.
He hurried up the ladder and Carol followed as close as she dared, walkers grabbing at her ankles, tearing at the habit. She felt a few get a good hold of the black material and yank her hard, but she kicked them in the face with her boots and carried on, throwing herself through the hatch and onto the gravel and tar of the rooftop.
Kicking the heavy hatch closed with her foot, Carol lay on the rooftop for a moment, before rolling over and onto her hands and knees.
"I guess we don't need to worry about diplomacy anymore," Karen remarked darkly.
Milton, kneeling, was reloading his pistol, hands shaking.
"How are we going to get off this roof?" He asked.
Carol shielded her eyes from the sun, trying to locate Michonne below them.
Walkers must have chased her from the truck as a few were milling around near it.
That's when Carol spotted the woman's form huddled almost invisible on a rooftop of her own, hiding behind the fake storefront.
"We weren't expecting this," Karen muttered angrily, eyeing the crowd of walkers that was still beating at the door below them. "Something must have got inside at them…or…they turned. I don't know…"
"Carol," Grace said softly. "May I borrow that?" She motioned to the knife in Carol's hand.
Running her thumb over the etched word 'Salt' Carol nodded and handed it over.
Grace sliced at the habit she wore, cutting the skirt of it in half, shortening it. She tossed the mass of cloth aside and tore off her wimple and veil, cutting the arms of the black habit off at her shoulders.
"Damn thing nearly killed me," Grace muttered, handing the knife back.
Carol knelt and did the same to her habit, making it easier to run in if push came to shove.
"We should have had more firepower," Karen spat.
"It's my fault," Grace stated. "I left my rifle in the truck, thought it'd spook the people inside. I'm sorry."
Carol offered her a small smile. "We're okay, everyone is still alive, the hatch should hold."
"Can we…I don't know jump to the next building?" Milton suggested, eyeing the distance between the two buildings.
"They'd still be down there, between us and the truck," Carol said. "With no real firepower, we wouldn't make it."
Grace tugged off the canvas pack that the Lieutenant insisted she bring with her and opened it, digging through the amount of things.
Carol spied the woman dropping cans of mixed nuts and what looks like folded sheets onto the rooftop.
A bottle of water, a mass of dog tags, a whet stone, box of spare .308 rounds, cans of fruit, some packets of ketchup and crackers, everything and anything anyone could ever need in an emergency ever.
"Good Lord," Grace muttered. "Why does that man pack like a woman on her honeymoon?"
Carol spied something drop from another bundle of crap out of the Lieutenant's pack and knelt to pick it up.
"Hand grenade?" She muttered.
"Doesn't help us, unless we want to blow ourselves to bits," Karen growled.
"What is this?" Grace pulled out a handful of tins, handing them to Carol.
She dropped most of them, reading one. "Blue gel? Highly flammable, keep off skin and away from eyes," she read, cracking open the lid and peeking inside. It looked like jelly, blue jelly.
Looking up she found Grace eyeing a piece of paper in her hand, the woman noticed her gaze and quickly shoved the paper back inside the sack.
"This might work," Carol said. "I don't suppose he has a—"
Grace held up a box of matches from among the pile of crap, shoving things back inside the bag quickly and without much care, in a hurry to get in motion before the walkers figured out a way through the hatch.
Taking the box of matches, Carol moved to the pile of black habit and picked a piece up, dipping it carefully into the blue gel.
"Get ready to jump to the next building," she said to Karen and Milton as Grace replaced the pack on her back and began carefully dipping cloth into the gel as well.
Opening the hatch for them Karen stepped back as Carol and Grace began raining the gel soaked clothe down onto the walkers scrambling at the ladder.
Kicking a few in the face with her boot to keep them down, Carol fumbled for the match box and struck one, quickly dropping it into the mess of undead. Flames shot up from the corpse pile and Carol leapt back onto her ass to avoid getting fire spit in her face, Grace doing the same.
Karen pulled a face at the smell and sizzle of the flesh and toed the hatch closed with her boot.
Shoving the cans of blue gel back inside Grace's pack, Carol prepared to leap onto the roof of the next building, watching as Karen was the first to try it, wincing as the woman barely made it.
"I can't do this," Grace admitted.
Carol eyed her quietly.
"Carol, I'm nearly fifty, I'm not young enough for it."
"You'll make it," she urged.
Milton moved towards them, holding out his pistol. "Here, you two go ahead, I'll bring up the rear."
Carol took the gun.
"In case I don't make it," he explained calmly.
"Mr. Mamet," Grace began.
The man smiled shyly. "Never been real sporty…think long jump was the worst event at track meets for me."
Deciding she had enough with their bullshit, Carol scowled. "Grace, take a good run. Don't think about the fall, just jump." She ordered. "Mr. Mamet, we'll see you over there."
Moving to the furthest side of the building with them, Carol inhaled deeply. Maybe Daryl's short temper was rubbing off on her.
"Give it all you have," she commanded Grace. "Go on."
The woman crossed herself, before taking off, she halted short at the edge and came back.
The woman looked visibly shaken, but levelled her chin stubbornly. "One more try," she insisted.
Carol held her breath as Grace took another run at the gap, pushing off the lip of the roof with all she had.
For a moment Carol felt her heart lurch, then resume its pace as Grace collapsed hard against the edge of the other building, Karen hurrying to help her up.
"I'll see you over there," Carol insisted to Milton.
He looked unsure, but nodded.
Inhaling deeply, knowing she didn't have much of a better chance than Grace at making the jump, Carol pushed off, giving everything she had, heading for the edge.
She sprung off the end of the roof, not thinking about the fall, but thinking about the collision with the next building.
Winding herself as she hit the edge with her sternum, Carol's hands slid through the gravel roughly, the burn blister from the pistol barrel tearing open painfully as Grace and Karen helped her onto the roof.
Turning she eyed Milton as he quietly stood on the other roof, watching them calmly.
"Jump," she urged softly, not sure if he heard her, but wanting him to have some encouragement.
She watched as he angled his head and for a second she didn't think he was going to.
Smoke was billowing out of the cracks in the boarded up windows of the building and Carol knew more than walkers was burning inside it.
And then Milton was moving, running towards them, heading for the gap.
Carol stepped back, preparing to give him space to land.
As he stepped on the edge of the building, she saw him falter and gasped as he launched himself, flying through the air.
It wasn't enough, his fingertips grazed the ledge of their building and he was gone out of sight.
The fall wouldn't kill him, but the walkers below.
The three women raced to the edge to peer down, spying Milton splayed out on the ground beneath them.
"Milton," Carol hissed.
He seemed to be having trouble breathing, winded on the hard concrete.
Spying walkers entering the narrow alley from the street, Carol hissed to him again.
He was still struggling to breathe.
Raising the pistol, Carol fired at a few walkers who were getting too close, unable to keep up with them, Karen helping out as well.
She felt a wave of helplessness wash over her as the walkers outnumbered her ability to keep up with firing.
And then Michonne was behind the group, her sword swinging, knocking the heads off three at a time.
Carol would have helped the woman, but the pistol was out of bullets.
Karen fired, taking out a few, but Michonne held her own, gripping Milton by the upper arm and dragging him to his feet.
Heaving a sigh of relief as Michonne disappeared around the corner of the building with Milton, Carol collapsed on the rooftop, shaking.
Jodie Kay - Well thank you, I think you're a great reviewer!
Merle's Right Hand - Fay is cheeky, but you love him for it. And yes, shirtless Daryl with a dog and Annie, I'm trying to melt hearts here, babes.
Yazzy x - Kids are pretty resilient, aren't they?
DarylDixon'sLover - Thanks.
Brazen Hussy - Boy, you sure hate Rick...you amuse me. ^_^
Jack And Honey - I think with Grace and the Lt. raising her, Annie is only going to get worse in regards to her cheek and her stubborn nature.
TheLadyDanae - Well thank you! Things people love to hear! Things I love to hear. ^_^
Whooptiedoo - I'm glad you appreciate how I slow things don't sometimes. I think the everyday things are still important to this story. After all, it's heavily character centred and you can't build relationships without taking time to weave them.
itsi3 - Indeed!
Supfan - No worries. I'm just glad you're okay.
hopelesslydevoted2svu - Oooh, the million dollar question I've been asked lately. Richard Armitage for the Lt. (hands down, no arguments) and over on tumblr the discussion ended with Kathryn Erbe for Grace...though she is still open to debate.
Lilone1776 - Aw, thank you! I'm glad to see you're back! I was worried for a while there! ^_^
Tigerlily xoxo - Agreed!
basically-a-fangirl - Oh, Daryl is going to be wrapped around both Annie and Judith's little finger. He's the gruff uncle type who'd pretend he hates his job but secretly loves and adores the girls.
HGRHfan35 - Oooh someone's weaving suspense and I wish it were me...^_^
Surplus Imagination - I hope Rick kicks his ass, the dude seems unstable.
SilverWolf84 - Rick is definitely the most unstable wolf in the pack right now (weird when Merle seems like the rational one all of a sudden, huh?)
GG - LOL! I hope Grace whoops the Lt's hinder for stealing and grazing her lady places in order to do so.
Axelrocks - Daryl does kind of look like Shaggy though, ain't going to lie.
Laura - Thank you!
BanannaFlvdSnow - Aw, they are a cute team, aren't they? Just enough sugar and spice to make things interesting. ^_^ (Daryl would kick both our asses for that...so...at least he'd be paying us some attention).