"When you have no one, no one can hurt you.
In the corner there is light that is good for you
And behind you, I have warned you, are awful things."
Chapter Twenty-One
A week. I had been given a week to weigh and determine if I should really travel to Hamilton. Of course the prospect of regaining my bow could have sent me soaring south, yet I couldn't help but battle with the grim consequences I could very possibly face. I almost felt afraid to keep pushing my luck with these people. We had parted on good terms, had served a purpose and helped each other out. But the gas was indeed on its last few gallons and my food rations were rapidly dwindling. If I could hunt over scavenging it would be one less strenuous pull at my head with all the million and other things I should be doing.
In the meantime, I found a small cul-de-sac of houses that appeared abandoned. Selecting a one-story, I boarded up the doors and windows, finally finding a place to rest my head other than the CRV. I spent the next day driving, using the map to search out close by residences and shopping outlets for whatever supplies I could manage to retrieve. A few downtown areas were much too crowded to pull off with what I had to work with, especially since I still had zero ammunition for the rifle I had sadly kept stashed in the hatch of the car just incase I happened upon bullets. Another weapon I had to regretfully let go. If there was a time I needed my bow back, it was now.
And in the span of just a week I felt my stomach unexpectedly protrude much more uncomfortably against my waistband than I swore it had been only a handful of days ago. Before, it had still been discreet. I could even pretend the abdominal growth didn't exist if I tried not to notice. And in the midst of everything sputtering all around me, it hadn't been too difficult. But now that the rains were starting to lighten and the days were starting to warm, it was a hard feature to miss without my jacket on. I now chose to wear a men's shirt I had found from the house the day before. The material hung off me extremely loose, the collar of the shirt even sagging off to the side and the sleeves that were meant to be short practically reached past my elbows. Not only was my condition becoming harder to ignore, I found myself having to adjust maneuvering around without bumping the stomach that felt less like my own every week against everything I walked by. My heart was sent racing in panic when I kept in mind I was just about halfway through this pregnancy...if this was before the turn, I'd actually be able to tell if this baby was a boy or a girl.
But there were no sonograms, there was no doctor visits, and I couldn't help but wonder what names Todd would have picked out. Yet just thinking of naming this seemed to bring up everything I'd been trying to suppress in the last months, so instead, I did what I do best and pushed down this crippling dread to compact with everything else I tried to forget.
Despite the ominous months approaching, the present brought a briefly peaceful existence. After the second day there I was almost about to consider this a place I could set up a more permanent settlement. However, only the day after I was almost able to grow content in the quiet suburban I had stopped in, the Biter population crowded overnight for some unforeseeable reason. I heard the howling suddenly begin out in the neighborhood and it only grew in volume throughout the night. When the sun arose, they didn't ebb from the streets like I had hoped and a few even begun to catch their attention on the house. Eventually, they were growling outside the boarded windows and I decided I couldn't remain longer if they should attract more. It was a narrow escape attempting to drive through the pile up collected amongst the street, but I was able to lose them through a long stretch of road that led all the way through to the next neighboring towns.
From there, I found a building that looked like it had once been a salon and was able to rest for a few hours before I kept on to the next town to stay ahead of the approaching Biters. I found a tiny gas station when I pulled off the highway on a road that led pretty far off the main interstate and had next to nothing surrounding the desolate building. I stayed there for a day, parking the CRV outside to scope out the inside. There was a rotted body lying behind the tiny register counter but thankfully hadn't reanimate, so I pulled my bandana up over my face and dragged the body outside before I shoved what looked to once have been a miniature ice cream freezer in front of the door to temporarily barricade myself in. After checking to make sure the tiny stock room from behind the register counter was clear, I was able to settle for the night and laid my blankets down across the only tiny aisle that once held product beside the a pair refrigerated doors. It was disappointing but not surprising to find the small section cleared out of any water and most of the sodas and juices. I managed to snag me an Arizona peach tea and a diet Sprite that had rolled towards the back from the very top row.
After I settled, I sat leaned up against an aisle rack, sipping the sugary tea and nibbling a pack of four mini powdered donuts I was lucky enough to find with a bag of pork rinds as well. However, I regretted opening the bag once the smell wafted right in my face, overwhelming my stomach so abruptly I was heaving the tea and donuts back up across the floor. I hastily crinkled the bag back closed and sat on the opposite end of the store to get away from the smell of the pork and my vomit. Once I was eventually able to breath through the nausea, I begrudgingly set up my blankets elsewhere. I thought these terrible ups and downs with my stomach had passed, but I was still bitterly reminded every so often I still had something inside pulling the strings of my digestive system.
As much as I tried that night, I was restless and it was difficult to get myself to let go enough to fall asleep. So instead, I found a small restroom that appeared to only have been used by employees in the stock room that had a molded porcelain toilet that no longer flushed and a tiny sink that no longer ran water with a scratched up mirror bolted against the wall above it. Setting up a few candles around the sink counter-top, I lit them with a lighter I found out by the register to illuminate the pitch black bathroom. While I observed my reflection, a tide of numbness lapsed over me and I didn't have words to describe how strange it was to study the woman staring back and process she was me. Lifting my fingers to touch to feel this was real, I brushed over the dark circles underlining my eyes and traced down my gaunt cheekbones jutting out of my usually rounder facial structure. I pulled my hair out from the hair-tie I had bundled all my tangles in and watched the short matted strands hang limply down to fall over my eyes until I brushed my now almost completely grown out bangs behind my ear. Something about this made me incredibly sad, and I couldn't help the tears unsuspectingly build up behind my eyes. Once, my hair had been one of my favorite features about myself. I had never dyed it, hardly did more than trim it, and had been all the way down to my waist for most of my life. Now, it barely reached my shoulders and was jagged and uneven from where I had hacked it off to escape the close encounter weeks ago. I hadn't realized just how terrible of a cut I had done until seeing it now, so I deposited myself in front of the mirror and went to work brushing out the rats nest of tangles. Retrieving the pair of scissors I snagged from the salon earlier, I went to work evening out my hair, sadly having to cut it even shorter to get it trimmed straight enough. Brushing the severed strands of hair off my shoulders and from my shirt to avoid itching later. I then pulled a water bottle from my bag, taking a sip first before dabbing a little moisture over the bandana I pulled from around my neck. Wiping it across my greasy forehead and over the dirt smudges along my cheeks, I reveled in my much cleaner appearance. Changing out of the underwear I'd been wearing for several days now and into a cleaner pair with a new change of socks as well, I felt a little refreshed and less disgusting now that I had groomed myself.
I was also unable to help my eyes wander down to the stomach and my hand reached to run across the new curve of my belly. Lifting up the shirt, it felt surreal to observe my flesh underneath reflecting from the candles light; what was once my much more flattened abdomen no longer felt like mine. It was a strangers tummy and I was still struggling to come to terms with just how much rounder it was growing. Pressing over my belly button, I worried when I would feel more attached. Maybe if I ever felt it turn or kick this could feel more real, but the lack of movement was also deeply disturbing. I knew not from experience but a medical standpoint that it wasn't usual for a pregnancy to progress for five months and not even feel the baby move. Once those thoughts began to fester, I quickly pulled the shirt back down, almost as if I could shut out the thoughts if I stopped looking at it.
So I gathered up everything and blew out the candles after everything was packed back away. I settled myself by the register where I could hear what was going on outside, but fortunately tonight, all I could really hear were the passing by groans every so often of a corpse drifting through but none lingered or too long.
It wasn't until then did I get the opportunity to seriously consider traveling to Hamilton to retrieve my bow with only another day to make the decision. Like with everything else, I had pushed it from thought as long as possible.
Realistically, I was surviving purely off the sickle alone and I couldn't count on waiting until I chanced upon any 5.56's for the rifle or .38's for the pistol I picked up off the woman who had offed herself at the AMC. If I intended to continue lurking amongst the woods for coverage like my original plan had been, everything was just so much simpler with the bow amongst the quiet woodlands. But ever since my shoulder, things had changed rather drastically and I wasn't even sure what I still intended anymore. My shoulder was still incredibly sore from enduring the recoil of the rifle and being jostled so roughly from the driving diversion, plus climbing the trees for the snares hadn't helped either. I knew I wasn't ready to take on that kind of lifestyle again. And with the time bomb gradually pronounced itself more prominently against my abdomen, a suffocating anxiety was poisoning most of my thoughts. My mind was always elaborating solutions and escapes, but in actuality, there was nothing I could plan that wasn't staggeringly halted by what would arrive in only twenty more weeks.
Just thinking it made my heart race dreadfully and I had to soothe my breathing to keep these dark thoughts from consuming me. And what was worse was I couldn't stop thinking of the group from a week ago. The pregnant woman and her wide doe-eyes were always flashing across my mind. The dead mother who left so much behind. I felt so overwhelmed; if this woman had carried throughout a whole pregnancy just to not make it through childbirth, how was I to be any different?
I was adamant I would never let this baby be left behind. But what hurt the most was I knew I could never possibly promise such a thing. Dark thoughts leaked through the cracks of my mind and always seeped into my most frightful reveries. I fantasized taking my sickle and slicing it across my throat that sent chills, although not unpleasant, through my body. If I cut deep enough, I'd sever my jugular and would comfortingly bleed out fairly quickly, but not painless either. It was an obscene, evil thought that abhorred me to tears, but it was one certainty I knew. When my heart stopped, the baby's would too. It would never know what this world is capable of; would never go hungry, never kill, never fear. I was too much of a coward to ever consider plunging the blade directly through my stomach to end it instantly, but that didn't mean I never pictured it. I would also be allowed to turn, and that was enough a reason to try and steer my thoughts a different direction.
At this junction, I absolutely loathed taking the chance to meet this group back up, but it was something I should suck up and do. After all this time I had grown an endearing attachment to the compound bow; it was my own secret symbolism of what the bow had brought out in me that I had never known existed and also another last reminder of the man who had taught me to use it. So other than longing for my weapon back for sentimental reasons, I also had to recognize I was at a considerable low in supplies. I knew I had to stop thinking about what dead people would do, but I couldn't help considering if it was Todd, or Brian, or Michael would go. But this group didn't rub off as bad people to me; they could have turned on me a hundred times by now if that had been their intention this whole time, but it was difficult to drop the suspicion. And a frightening thought whispered an idea, that maybe, possibly, if these people were genuine enough and had some type of shelter, I could make something work.
If these people had the room, maybe I could spend the remaining months of my pregnancy with others...rejoin a group...
But the idea of regrouping with other survivors sent a sharp, physical ache through my chest just remembering the faces of those I had lost and how I had yet to recover from the last group I'd been a part of. In all honesty, I longed for nothing more but to quench the hatred I felt for those that had betrayed me, and I burned so bad some days my chest could concave for some kind of revenge, justice, karma- anything that could help ease losing Todd. And it had all been by the people we'd grown to love, like our own family through everything thrown at us against this fucked up world. But I'd been wrong about Philip Blake and I was wrong about Merle, Martinez, Jim... I couldn't afford to be wrong again. Much like the man who axed me through the shoulder, this group could care less if I was pregnant and alone or not. If they desperately needed the supplies, why not just take it off me? I was an easy target and it was nerve wrecking to know they knew it too.
Yet so far, these people had done right by me and only the man with the revolver, Rick, was the one I was hesitant about the most. But actually, he was also the one I could understand the easiest, so I couldn't bring myself to resent him completely. A good man a lot of bad things had happened to. Considering Daryl was willing to venture out to give me my bow, ultimately a risk on his part. If he hadn't come back with Carol, I could have died out in that car. He didn't look the guy to reluctantly participate in helping me outright, but so happens he had, and now he was offering to actually get my bow back. I wasn't quite able to figure their motif, but that's what made me the most apprehensive.
While organizing my supplies to wind myself down for the night, I made a decision to take it upon myself to sort through the food I'd collected throughout the past month or so. Grabbing the bag of pork rinds I couldn't bring myself to eat, I bagged them up with a couple cans of sardines and diced up sweet potatoes, with a jar of jalapeno dill pickles and dole apple sauce. All items I had collected, but couldn't bare to either smell or caused me to become wretchedly sick. I learned the hard way after spoiling the first jar of apple sauce after I barfed it back up and the whole jar of pickles would soon expire after I opened it a couple days ago. I didn't even have a chance to taste the sardines after I smelled the first can. I figured I could maybe one day get over this nausea, but it didn't seem like it was coming too soon, so I distributed them into a plastic grocery bag and stuffed them in the bag I favored to take out with me. Another thing I also came across were the arrows I had stowed away. I guess I was grateful I hadn't thrown them out when I was upset and decided to take them with me as well.
Eventually I managed to get a few hours to shut my eyes and actually squeeze in a much needed sleep. When I awoke I was stricken to find I had slept the rest of the night and the sun had already begun its ascent and lit the Georgian sky. Even if I was a little miffed I failed to get an early start on the day, I felt considerably better and had to appreciate the time this gas station gave me. Folding up my blankets and packing everything up, I shoved the mini fridge from the entrance doors to slip out to load everything back into the CRV.
Departing the gas station, I got back on the highway and reluctantly ended up driving south.
In between pulling over to peek at a few of the towns I drove by, I spent the rest of the day on the road. There was a rest stop I drove by that I was fortunately (or unfortunately, depending who looked at it) able to take a can of some unknown soup and a parka jacket off a rotted corpse of someone that must have expired there since winter. When I got back on the road, I laid the long jacket over the backseat and rolled the windows down to attempt to air out the smell of dead body with the bandana tied back over my face. A few more miles up, signs showing a few store logos to indicate what shops were expected up ahead had me pulling off to check at the sight of a Toy'R'Us. There could be baby supplies to salvage as well as a Fresh 'N Easy market . When I pulled off the freeway in Manchester, I only drove a few blocks before I ran into a street completely compacted by Biters. Unable to venture any further and without time to scope out another direction, I hastily turned the car around and raced back onto the freeway to continue on the 27A-I disappointingly. There were a few spots on the highway that were pretty cluttered by abandoned car, but nothing too bad that I couldn't maneuver the CRV around, although very carefully and slow. I stopped for a bit to pick through the vehicles, observing that this place had actually been some kind of camp at some point.
Poor bastards, I thought, picking through pans and sheets thrown about. This was a pretty poor spot to pick, making me wonder if this wasn't a set up from back in the very beginning when most of us made pretty amateur survival mistakes. I pulled down a clothing line that would be in the way when I tried to drive by and tossed it into an open window of another car. Every vehicle had already been siphoned dry with every hollow gas tank I thumped and any bit of supplies looted by now. There were a few clothes, most women's, but nothing really practical besides frilly tank-tops and shorts that would most definitely be too tight on me now. I did however, manage to find one little packet of instant maple-flavored oatmeal, a tube of toothpaste, and a couple small tuberwares left that I decided to take along as well.
Leaving that campsite behind, I continued to drive on and merged onto interstate 85. I didn't come across much else, another rest stop that didn't have shit left and a tiny dive bar next door that had also been looted through. There were a few bottles left behind, two Ketel vodkas were already more than halfway drunk but I took them anyways knowing I could possibly use them for disinfectant or a little cocktail explosion in the future now that I had a lighter. Not that I didn't still have a few of the grenades but I could never have too much insurance I figured.
When the sun began its setting, I parked off on the side of the road and called it a day. I was only about an hour or so from Hamilton if I continued to make good time, but soon it would get too dark and I rather keep to my rules on traveling at night. I had them for a reason. Luckily, this part of the highway saw little to no Biters, so most of the night I was able to wait them out if I stayed quiet enough and were never made aware of my presence tucked away in the car. But it was another long night as rest continued to evade me between the crowd of thoughts swarming my mind.
Eventually, I was able to get a few hours of sleep and woke up just before dawn. I nibbled on some of the soup since I was tired of the granola bars I could barely look at anymore before sealing the rest away in one of the tuberwares I cleaned out. Getting back on the road, the rest of the drive to Hamilton wasn't long at all before I began seeing the highway signs indicating it was a few exits away. When Ballentine approached, I took the exit and followed the road pretty far up, past open swamp lakes and fields if cattails until coming to the first fence of property. I parked the car a fair amount of distance away in hopes that if this did turn out to be a bust, I could possibly lose them through the thicket around the farm without giving up my ride.
I didn't spot their Hyundai, and when I approached the stable, it appeared they hadn't arrived just yet either. I checked every stall and crevice to find everything empty, so I took a trip to the actual farm house a few yards deeper on the property and took a look around to make sure there weren't any surprises hiding out. I hurried across the unattended fields; still gray and unlively but recovering it's health in little bright green patches, probably from the rains after winter officially ended. Keeping as discrete and quiet as I could manage, I crept up the porch steps and pressed against the house walls to listen for anything lurking inside. When I waited enough time, I couldn't hear much so I went further to step closer to the front window and peek inside. The owner's obviously hadn't been around to tend to this house in quite some time while the windows were coated over so thick with dust the glass was impossible for me see anything inside without using a corner of my bandana to wipe a spot clear. Everything inside was pretty much the way I remembered and expected it to be, if not maybe a little emptier. This time, the dining room table looked missing and so did a lot of their other furniture left behind. Lifting up the sickle ready in hand, I lightly tapped against the glass and waited in silence outside. After about another minute, I rapped on the window again, a little louder this time and pressed myself back against the house out of plain sight.
It was then I finally heard the scrape of heavy footsteps from inside and knew a corpse was inside, a couple of them by the sound of it. The definite snarl muffled from inside before a smack hit the window, but I was already making my way to the door and braced myself. Waiting to make sure that was all that was inside, I pulled open the door and rushed in.
I'd been right, it was only two Biters, and very ancient ones by the looks of their weak state and ashen skin that most of their hair was fallen out from. I met their dead white eyes and stepped forward.
Curling my sickle up, I swung down to hack into the side of the first's head, though I didn't penetrate deep enough as it let loose a wail and made a lunge for me. Retching the sickle back out, I kicked for its stomach to shove back now that the other was riled and heading for me with more fervor. The Biter stumbled over its feet and fell, granting me time to turn to the second and bring the sickle straight down over its head, the hook end of the blade sinking in from the top of her skull as I tried to bear my weight down enough to embed it until she collapsed. Turning back to the Biter picking itself back up from the floor, after dislodging the blade I swung back again and actually aimed at the previous gash to officially slash far enough to silence the reanimated corpse.
Panting from the brief exertion, I swiped a bit of blood I had felt fly across my cheek off onto my forearm before I tied the bandana back over my mouth and nose. I waited another moment to see if I could hear any other movement amongst the house, but when only met with silence, I proceeded to make my way through the house, checking in every room to make sure it was now clear. It was a pretty plain two story, three bedroom house with wood floors. Pictures were still framed up on the walls, although a couple knocked down and broken along the staircase. The bedrooms were all still intact for the most part, but the bathroom was like a disaster had ripped through with pieces of broken glass everywhere from the glass shower doors these people must have had and the mirror were shattered into nothing but shards all over the sink and floor. I walked through and was relieved to find the rest of the house bare. When I retreated back down the stairs, I noted there were still dishes remaining in the sink as I passed through the kitchen. Spotting a bowl, my stomach rumbled, remembering the oatmeal I had found the other day.
I paused and frowned down at my protesting stomach. It appeared even though I had the soup earlier this morning, I realistically needed much more sustenance than half a can. I kept having to remind myself my intake should be meant for two and I knew I was poor at just getting myself to keep much of anything down. As food grew fearfully scarce for us at one point, somewhere I grew accustomed to pushing the hunger pains out of thought and mind in the face of everything else going on. It had become more like a chore to eat, but more recently these days, now that a lot of the almost constant nausea was tapering away, these days I caught my thoughts drifting about meals that I missed before the turn. Especially avocados for some ungodly reason. But my mouth was left to water and I did my best to keep such thoughts from the forefront. Which was what I tried to do now and made my way back outside, taking the porch steps down to head out into the field.
Scanning the wide yard and its long expansion past the farm house, I decided to creep back towards the treeline by the stable to look around a bit more. I felt much more comfortable around the thick trunks of tall cypress's than the open field as I walked as much of the border of the farm as I could from behind the cover of woods. Treading on the balls of my feet, I tried to walk quietly through the woods while I scanned the ground looking for any indication of others that could be around. But after a good long walk of the farm there were only a few staggered tracks I suspected were Biters, leaving the area to appear unpopulated for the most part. The further I trailed away from the farmhouse, I noted the grass disappeared leaving just moist dirt and eventually I was dodging and stepping over more soggier, muddier spots the damper the terrain turned as I ventured further into the swamp lands. Soon, I wasn't walking on anything but mud that squelched under my shoes, causing me to miss my old pair of boots when I started to feel my feet getting damp inside the converse material. The foliage grew wilder as I had to push through thicker briars while clusters of heath were climbing higher up the cypress trunks. Gnats were grouped up had to grossly be batted away off my face as I hurried to escape the cloud until I finally found where the mud became a bank to a wide gap of black swamp water.
Not interested in crossing such a wide span of swamp, I followed it up instead trying to scan every direction before I had to turn back drifting too far from the stable. However, I didn't have to walk too far up when I spotted something worth pausing my steps for.
Sliding behind a tree, I peered around to squint up ahead at what appeared to be a boat docked by the muddy shore up ahead. As I lingered back to see if I could make out anyone around, when it seemed the area was still empty, I slunk back out and rushed up the bank to get a closer look. Approaching the flat-bottomed boat, I saw it had two huge propellers inside a safety cage at the rut end and couldn't believe this was actually abandoned here. Slime and moss had collected from the waterline along the side of the boat from what I could see, and the inside had collected up branches and dried up leaves to indicate it probably hadn't been used in quite some time.
Testing my foot on the side of the boat to see how it would balance my weight, when it stayed steady enough I stepped inside and glanced at the huge hunk of metal that had to be the motor. The gas gauge read it had a little over a quarter of a tank, but I stared baffled for a moment how to even start the propellers. It was definitely a cool find, but I didn't exactly have any plans to sail through the swamps, or even stay here after today for that matter, so it wasn't anything practical to have. Stepping back over to crunch the twigs collected from the bottom of the boat, I carefully stepped back on the bank. Squinting up back between the skinny cypress treetops, I noted the sun had risen higher and it would probably be best to head back to wait and see if Daryl really did show.
On the way back through the trees and dirt, it had been quiet amongst the woods until a few ferns rustled and briar branches snapped up ahead. I stopped dead in my tracks, instinctively clutching the sickle tightly to me as I froze in a rush of panic. Glued in tracks, my mind was whirling if I should run and hide or stay still. If it was a Biter it could pass if it was kept unaware I was around, but I also panicked it could be Daryl and his group- or anybody alive for that matter sneaking up on me.
I was about to make a dash to hide behind the closest tree, but the damp woods stayed silent. After not hearing anything else, I raised my sickle and crept forward, purposely stepping over dry leaves to try and lure out an incoming Biter. When still nothing else happened, I stepped around the bushes to peer around. What I found myself come across had me tripping over my feet as I stumbled back and stifled a scream in shock.
A huge ass crocodile was standing over a corpse; not just any typical rotten body, but a mangled torso lying face down, a flayed arm thrown only a foot or so in front of me beside the bushes. I felt my eyes bulging at the sight of its teeth as its jaws gaped open, a belly-deep growl crooned as it pivoted its large head at the sight of me. I felt my foot fumble back in a complete frightened stupor, attempting to see if I could bolt as fast as I can, but the moment I jerked back it seemed to startle the swamp creature I don't recall I'd ever seen in person. It took an alarming strike forward, its trail thrashing while its jaws widened even larger. Cursing, I felt paralyzed, but if I ran it could sprint right after me. I also felt if I didn't make a move soon, it would strike at me anyways as I saw one of its front feet creep threateningly closer. Swallowing the panicked pounds of my heart against my ribcage, I had to think fast. The first thing I could come up with was pulling off my backpack. It hissed more at my movement, but before it could make a lunge I hastily tossed the bag right at it.
Almost instantaneously, it jaws snapped over my poor bag, locking it between its teeth and growling almost angrily. As I made to sprint away, the thought of all the food and a bit of my own supplies stopped me. In rash resorting, with the gator's jaws still clamped over the backpack, I gripped the sickle between both hands and leaped to plunge the blade down over its head. The giant reptile groaned, much louder than before, and I hadn't anticipated how powerfully it would still thrash as it practically tried to buck me off. I held on desperate not to dislodge off the blade and tried to apply as much of my weight as I could to sink the sickle in deep enough to stop its fighting, hearing myself crying out from the effort. It wasn't until I felt an enormous mass slam into the back of my leg was I dislodged, stunning me as I felt myself thrown back off onto the ground. Scrambling back up, I began to feel my leg throb, but I was much too horrified trying to get up and away before the gator released the bag to counter back with its teeth.
It all happened so fast, but the next moment, a resounding crack of a gunshot sent me stumbling back until I felt my back hit a tree, so forcefully it almost knocked the air out from me. My chest was heaving and I swiped a couple drops of sweat shakily off my forehead as I stared down at the now motionless crocodile splayed and bleeding in front of me. The sickle was still sticking up from the top of its scaled head, and now also a gaping hole that was seeping blood out onto the dirt floor.
Taking in the scattered and mauled body parts, I snatched up my bag from the floor before the blood pooled around it and limped to pull my sickle back out from the now dead crocodile. Brushing a few strands of limp hair from my face that fell out from my short ponytail, I looked up to hear the nearby brush rustle and three figures run through.
The source of the gunshot came and halted beside the gator's motionless body, the barrel of the revolver still trained over the amphibian. Rick met my shocked gaze as two others ran up beside him, Daryl with his crossbow trained on point for any oncoming Biters that could be attracted by the shot and Maggie had her own gun out, but it wasn't trained on anything as it now appeared the gator was down for the count.
"Ya'lright?" the young woman asked in her smooth, southern lilt, staring at me intently over the alligator's body.
Swallowing hesitantly, I glanced down at my leg that must have been whipped by the gator's tail since there was no other visible sign of damage other than a throb that pulsed up the back of my thigh and a few pulled up threads where the tail's scales must have scraped across the fabric. Nodding, the shock of the attack had definitely shaken me, but I straightened myself up and attempted to compose myself in the presence of this group I had been hesitant to see again all week.
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Caught me off guard is all."
Taking the others in a little more closely, the three appeared much cleaner than when I last saw them, even though it appeared Rick and Daryl were in their almost exact same clothes, if not just cleaned up of dirt, their hair rinsed and less greasy. Noting they must have either stayed or passed through somewhere to bathe, I pondered just how big or stable this group really was.
Daryl slacked back towards us, after looking over the area it appeared we hadn't attracted attention yet as he made his way over. Looking over the man, I couldn't believe he actually intended to do this. Any words choked as I glimpsed what was also hanging over his shoulder.
"Thanks," I finally managed, ripping my eyes away to glance towards Rick who had begun to slowly lower his gun. I didn't miss the way his eyes were leering around, almost apprehensive like he was as wary of his surroundings as I was.
"It just you?" Rick asked.
"Yeah," I nodded and gnawed on the inside of my lip as I tried to keep my attention between all of them.
Daryl and Rick both paused their uneasy scanning and seemed to be taking me in as well. I looked away, my cheeks flushed unbearably uneasy as I watched their eyes drift to my abdomen. Looking down to see what they were seeing, I cringed at the large t-shirt I had draped over that hung loosely over my stomach, and a few weeks ago, this would have been enough to conceal the swelling underneath. But now, I could make out the faintest protuberance pressed up underneath the fabric. If I hadn't left my jacket behind in this humid heat, I would have pulled it over me.
"What happened to the stable?" Daryl asked, interrupting this whole unpleasantness.
Snapping out of the self-consciousness I felt darkening over me, I turned my attention to the man with my bow.
"Got here earlier," I confessed. "Thought I'd check the perimeter, see if there were any surprises around." I paused to think that over and almost snorted. "Guess I kinda found one."
"Ya' sure you're alright?" Maggie inquired again. "We saw the tail knock you."
"Just probably have a mean bruise later," I shrugged and turned to the flayed corpse the gator had been feasting on. "At least I came out better than him."
The others had seemed to have taken notice to the body by now and were also grimacing over the scene.
"Could be a Walker that strayed across first," Maggie mused.
Daryl stalked closer to the crocodile carcass but bent to inspect the torso instead. With the end of his boot he turned over the body and I almost jerked my hand up to restrain the gag almost about to come up. It was definitely a corpse that had spent a good couple days at least in the water judging by the sour milk-like tinge of its skin, but what prominently stood out the most was the bullet hole through the center of this man's head.
"'Less you know a gator that can shoot," Daryl said, rolling the body back over to stand upright. "This guy's definitely been dead 'while."
"And underwater by the looks of 'im," Rick observed.
"Somebody made sure to dump him where this place would take care of it," I frowned, finding the bullet hole disturbing. Turning to the man with his crossbow, his stoic stare met mine as I him scrutinize me right back. "You actually came," I breathed, taking a moment to lean back against the tree I stumbled into beforehand and take in these three.
I watched on edge in anticipation as he nodded and set down his crossbow while wordlessly shrugging the compound bow from around his shoulder. Extending it out in his grasp for me, Daryl nodded down that I should go on and take it. Chewing my lip even harder, I tucked the handle of my sickle in my belt and tentatively reached out to take a hold of the bow. Once I wrapped my fingers around the bow's limb, he released his grip and I drew it closer to me as I tried to conceal my almost incredulous disbelief. Taking it in both hands, I studied its condition, appearing as intact as it had been before I'd lost it.
"You were for real," I huffed, musing aloud and looking up from the bow. I couldn't help but feel the corner of my mouth twitch before steeling back my expression.
"Figured you'd need it more than us," he shared a look between his other two companions before he shrugged off the backpack from over his shoulder to pull out what had been poking out through his bag.
Taking the long lost arrow I had made months ago, I nodded slowly and slid it back under my belt, where it had been before it was taken. Draping the bow over my shoulder, something I hadn't done in about a month still felt just as natural as the day I lost it. Thinking that this was a little too good to be true, I glanced around again as discreetly as I could and listened to the surrounding swamp closely. But all I could hear was a nearby resting flock of birds and the bustling of insects, though I still tried to play it cool and wait for the other shoe to drop.
"You good going back?" I asked a little awkward about what else to say to these strangers from this point.
"Yea, you?"
I nodded, still waiting. But by the looks on everyone else's face, it looked like they were waiting on something too.
"Thanks again, y'know," I shrugged the shoulder my bow was strapped over. "For this."
"Thanks for helpin' them get back," Maggie spoke up beside Rick.
I thought this would be an appropriate time to part ways, but before I could creep off and come up with departing words, something hesitated my natural impulse to hurry and flee. I couldn't resist thinking of the food I had specifically stowed away in my bag.
After another long, strange pause, I sighed and dropped my bag from over my shoulder. Kneeling to nervously unzip the backpack I now noticed had a few small holes punctured through the material, I found the plastic bag I tied up earlier and was relieved to feel the jars at least hadn't broken from the crocodiles jaws.
"Here," I took a nervous step forward, holding out the plastic bag for them to take.
All three exchanged looks, eying my gesture quite skeptically.
"What's this?" Rick asked, still refusing to coming forward.
I shrugged nervously, a little uncertain about this after all and found it sounded rather stupid now. "Needed to clear out some room... It's just stuff I've found. Don't really need 'em."
When no one went for the bag, I sagged almost in exasperation. When Rick refused to move, I turned to scowl towards the leather-vested native. "Just figured you might want them before I ditch 'em."
After a long moment of silent delibeation, it was Daryl who carefully approached, taking the bag off my hands to untie the handle knot. Exchanging a last glance at me, he opened the plastic and sorted through the contents inside, hearing the jars clank together inside.
"Of course it's not much..."
I could see his brow furrow as he tore his eyes back up to me. "Tellin' me ya don' eat?"
"No..." I bit my lip, finding this terribly uncomfortable and hadn't considered having to elaborate. "I just," sighing, I urged myself to shove away this thick apprehension of mine, "It just turned out I couldn't stomach much of these..."
At first, I couldn't look at any of them and kept my head turned for what felt like a horribly long time. Gathering myself, I stiffly forced myself to face these strangers after such a vulnerable confession, but by the looks of them, I wasn't sure if I should feel grateful or more ashamed that they seemed to get what I was trying to say as I saw Maggie and Rick looking down at my condition. I wanted nothing more than to flee and hide the upset flush erupting under my skin from the self-conscious humiliation overflowing inside me. I was struggling to save face and a moment from retracting back into the trees when I caught Daryl's own stare and paused. Instead of regarding my bump like the others, he was studying, staring directly at me. I couldn't explain how such a lack of reaction could anchor me from disappearing into a deep current of shame for a brief moment. I could have thanked him if I knew him.
"Thanks," Rick said, nodding and finally looked up to meet my stare. "Thank you, Olive."
I knew they didn't mean to gawk, and I could tell Rick noticed my incredible discomfort as he stilled his expression, looking down to his boots and resting his hands along his waists as I watched him lapse into his own thoughts. I made sure to watch very closely if his hand strayed to the gun he had holstered in his belt, but still felt my chest twinge at the sound of my name, surprised before I remembered I had revealed that part of myself to them.
"Where you off to after this?" Maggie asked.
Regaining my guard, I couldn't help but pause and consider my answer carefully. "Don't have much of a spot yet," I replied. "Figured I'd maybe go east of here and see what I see."
"Ain't much east," Daryl said. "Passed through that way 'while back. Nuthin' much that ain't looted anywhere off the 75."
I had never really considered going east, but it had been something to say so I nodded anyways.
"Oh, alright," I said, playing along halfheartedly. "I'll figure it out."
There was another drawn out silence between us. I thought of perhaps asking where they planned to be, but I found I didn't much care to know either way and was at a loss at what to say considering my conversation skills needed brushing up on. That is until Daryl kneeled down by the crocodile's body, unsheathing his knife to prod at the dead amphibian.
"Y'know," Daryl finally muttered. "If this guy wasn' a Walker, figure this ain't gotta go'ta waste."
"You mean like to fry up?" I asked skeptically.
"Never ate gator?"
I rose a brow at the thought. "No, can't say I have."
"He's right," Rick said, kneeling to get a look at the freshly killed reptile. "Ain't too different than anything else you'd catch out here."
"How would we get somethin' like this back?" Maggie asked, a bit skeptical herself. "It's gotta weigh at least over two-hundred pounds."
"We'd have to skin it first," Rick grimaced. "There's bags we can clear out, store as much as we can take."
Listening to them work this out, I couldn't help but grow a little uneasy. I wasn't about to fight for a share; technically, Rick's shot killed it, but I wasn't sure how I should feel if they took it all for themselves without so much as an offer. My mouth watered at the thought of meat after eating nothing but canned substance since the squirrel a week ago, and even before that it had been quite a while since I hunted without a bow and I could only count on snares for so much.
However, I didn't want to put myself in the position of a confrontation that could erupt and thought it would be wiser to leave now. Short and sweet was most likely in my best interest. But as I was a moment from retracting, already taking a step backward, Maggie's stare snapped back to hold me.
"Think you can have alligator?" she asked. "Could do with takin' somethin' back with you."
Caught off guard by her inclusion, I couldn't help but glance apprehensively to the other two, seeing if they were none too appreciative of Maggie's hand out. But Daryl and Rick's faces looked unchanged for the most part, if anything they appeared the be waiting on my response.
"If that's cool?" I mumbled, still hesitant to remain.
"Don't see why you shouldn't take a share," Rick stepped in, meeting my gaze steadily. He appeared in better condition than last we saw each other and I wasn't sure how to tread around this much calmer man. But it could still all be an act. The damage inside me still whispered their warnings, never forgetting how Philip had concealed his madness almost flawlessly.
But when I met Maggie's gaze, I couldn't help but feel less overwhelmed by this hard-wired paranoia that usually held it's grip so tightly over me. And when I glanced to see Daryl watching, I nodded and managed to remain a bit longer.
Even with his gigantic buck knife, it took a while for Daryl to skin the gator. At first I'd been curious to see how it was done and watched him slice from the corners of its mouth down both its sides. He seemed to struggle to break through its tough skin, but eventually hacked through the thick outer layer of scales. It wasn't until after Rick used his machete to hack off the tail did I have to turn away for a moment as Daryl began to process of pulling back the skin to reveal its inner muscles underneath. I was a little comforted Maggie seemed just as disconcerted by this judging from her disgusted grimaces before she turned away as well, taking point I noticed while the other two were busy. Keeping my own eyes open to our surroundings, I decided to appear like I was paying more attention to keeping a watch than concentrating not getting sick.
Keeping my sickle in hand, I drifted off a little, lost in my own thoughts as my eyes scanned over the earth for any suspicious tracks. The heat was getting worse in this part of Georgia as the sun crept higher, making swamps humidity all the more uncomfortable. I imagined if I still had my old hair it would be completely unmanageable under these conditions, but it appeared I had hacked off almost all my waves and was now stuck with these short, straight locks that kept falling and sticking to my damp forehead.
Taking a moment, I stopped to lean back against a tree and take a pause to grab a water from my bag, the back of my leg still dully throbbing when I walked. Taking a few sips to savor the drink and moisten my mouth, I grabbed the bottom of the long oversized shirt and flapped the cotton back and forth to help air out the parts of myself that were collecting sweat even underneath. Swiping more sweat off my brow as I huffed out a tired sigh from the heat, a quiet rustle of leaves jolted me around to see Rick was slowly approaching. I glanced instinctively to assure his gun was still holstered.
"Just getting some air," I said quietly, wondering if he was suspicious of my wandering. "Humidity's never agreed too well with me."
"Yeah," he says conversationally, "It's worse closer to Florida, 'specially when the summer heat picks up."
"I can handle heat," I shrugged, remembering the summers Nat and I spent all day in Venice. "It's the thickness in the air that's suffocating."
I took another sip of water before I packed it away to hike my gear back over my shoulder. I made to make my way back, glancing back to Rick who trailed on quietly after me. I thought maybe we could return in a semi-comfortable silence until he decided to fill the air.
"We've been discussing you," he said a step behind me. "Our group knows what you did for us."
"I'm flattered," I deadpanned, my default turning automatically to sarcasm. "Can I ask what's there to discuss?"
"Your situation," he sighed, "Daryl and Glenn seem to think-"
Feeling where this conversation was heading, I felt my irritation flare to hear others having their own say about me.
"My situation?" I couldn't help grit as I tried to soothe my bristling temper.
Rick stopped walking and I whirled around to glare.
"Look, we've got people in our group that could help..."
I felt myself quiver ever so slightly. Was he suggesting what I thought...
"One of ours, he was there for my wife..." I watched him hesitate and could feel how hard this was for him to say, but it stopped me from immediately snapping back. "Carol too, they prepared to help her have the baby, when the time came."
Before I had time to reel in my next words, I lashed back defensively with my sharpest, angriest barbs.
"What happened then when 'the time came'?"
As the words left my mouth I regretted them almost instantly, especially the way I saw his face crumple for a moment before he turned to stare hard into the ground, his jaws grinding together as he averted his gaze.
"She..." he started no louder than a shuddered breath,"We were separated, overrun by Walkers a man lead on us... Maggie and my son were with her when she..."
Swallowing a heavy lump, I nodded, willing him to just stop and wishing he didn't explain..
"I'm sorry." Flushing with guilt, I know I had told him before, but after hearing this confession I couldn't help but say it again, feeling like a fucking horrible person.
"What was her name?" I asked, my voice turning soft.
"Lori," he rasped. I knew it must ache to say it because I never said Todd's aloud anymore. "Her name was Lori."
I could hear the teeter of his voice as he managed to get past was, but I remained quiet about it and just nodded.
"I..." gulping, I ran a hand uneasily through my bangs to push them back out of my face. I made a note to keep an eye out for hair clips as I fidgeted. "Rick, I appreciate what you're offering. I really do."
As he rose his gaze back up, I met him evenly, offering a meek smile.
But for however fleeting this lasted, it slipped off my face as I sighed. "I just don't do groups. Not anymore."
Hardening myself against Rick's stare, I hadn't anticipated the regret I suddenly felt turning down this gesture. I remembered how kind Carol had been, and a part of me didn't want to meet her again and subject myself to another person that would some day be dead anyways. Just like everybody else.
"I can't," I breathed and it was me who turned to look away this time. Clearing my throat, I hastily tried to erase anything that might give away all the hurt I was remembering and looked back up sheepishly to find Rick still staring.
"Ok..." he nodded, his lips dripped into a deep frown and the wrinkle lines across his brow indented while he appeared deep in his own thoughts. "Ok."
"Sorry," I mumbled. A part of me really was. Sorry I was so alone but just too fucked up to live any other way.
"Glenn told me about your group...the father..." I stilled, my throughts freezing even in this damp heat. "I'm sorry."
I didn't speak, couldn't move. Hearing someone bring up Todd left me breathless and I struggled to pull in a breath past the shock.
"Whatever happened-"
"Just don't," I exhaled. Shaking my head, I couldn't bear to hear much more about this and urged myself to keep it together a while longer in front of Rick.
When I managed to contain my implosion of resurfacing despair, I glanced back and forced this stiff, mechanical smile across my face.
His eyes narrowed back, but I felt in this moment, we both lost the a majority of the dark suspicion between us. Nodding, he just remained silent and I was grateful he dropped the matter. Turning around, I figured we'd peered around enough without incident so decided to walk back and see how far along Daryl was with the meat so I could leave.
On the way back, we were greeted by Maggie who reported everything was clear from what she could tell. I noticed her keep glancing towards Rick, but the man only gave her a short shake of his head and continued to follow me back. We hadn't drifted too far from Daryl, so it didn't take long to see a long flap of skin hanging off a large carcass while he seemed to be carving up into pieces, almost worthy to be some kind of Thanksgiving specimen.
Rick and Maggie vouched to head back to their car to get the bags they had in mind to store the meat, and even though this sent a little prick of unease to hear them suggesting to split up, but rather than jump to incredibly paranoid conclusions, I remained quiet about it. So I nodded a stiff agreement and chose to keep a closer eye out instead. Once the two left, I had to admit watching Daryl flay the gator with the huge ass knife of his was a little daunting left alone like this. My hand squeezed around the hilt of the sickle I kept close as I watched out for any Biters that could be attracted over by this whole scene, also reminding myself I had a large knife too.
"So Rick talk to you yet?"
Glancing over, Daryl didn't look up from his work right away and allowed me time to process what he must mean.
"Yeah," I chewed my lip and turned away when he peered up from the gator carcass.
"You comin' back with us?"
I shouldn't be surprised he no doubt knew about Rick's proposition, but it still felt strange knowing these people had been discussing me. Yet he asked almost offhandedly, like this wasn't some serious subject to take into consideration.
"Told him I appreciate it," I sighed, "Guess it's not easy to take in others anymore."
Watching him nod, he continued cutting off another piece of muscle, not offering anything else to say. I figured he wasn't a man with much to say anyways- or at least to me.
"I told him no."
This stilled him in the middle of tearing apart alligator flesh to turn around and study me. At first I thought he might act incredulous, remind me of my chances, maybe even say I was foolish, but his reaction remained neutral until it seemed he thought over what he should say.
"Don't trust us?"
I felt a small grin creep over my lips and I almost chuckled.
"I don't trust anyone," I shrugged. "You guys seem alright though, for the most part."
"So you rather just keep on runnin'?"
"Don't we all eventually?" I countered hollowly.
Daryl seemed to think this over and went back to proportioning the gator meat. I thought maybe I ended this conversation with my pessimism until he eventually spoke up, his back to me while he continued preparing the meat."We gotta' place. It's been quiet for 'bout a month now, safe." he shrugged, "Ain't had'ta run."
I grimaced sadly. "Yet."
"Can't," he countered, almost abrasive compared to how even tempered he'd been towards everything today. It was a surprising difference from the man I was accustomed to shoving a bolt in my face. "One of our's can't travel much, 'nd now Lil' Asskicker..."
With this piece of information, I wondering just where these people could be staying that they felt was secure enough to throw in all their chips.
After considering all this, I felt my brow arch and couldn't resist asking, "Asskicker?"
Despite the tense conversation between the both of us, I caught the corner of Daryl's mouth twitch for a brief moment.
Footsteps crackled behind me, redirecting our attention to see Maggie and Rick returning through the trees. Relieved to see they had returned still just the two, I appreciatively took back my plastic bag as they made room to squeeze the jars into Maggie's bag instead.
Peering back over, Daryl spared me one last look and it still seemed like he would've liked to say something, but he turned to Rick and it seemed our discussion had thankfully ended as they dropped into a quiet conversation between the two as Rick took up helping Daryl pick apart the creature that had once been whole only an hour ago.
"We only came across a few Walkers still hangin' around," Rick spoke up for everyone to hear. "We should move on before more start wanderin' our way."
I could recognize this was his urging to leave, taking the implication, Daryl reached out to take one of the bags and went right to work storing away the gator meat. I watched a little uncertainly from a distance until he looked back, squinting over against the bright mid-day sunlight that was now beaming in high above the trees and nodded over for me to join. Stepping forward, Daryl waited for me to hold open my bag and used his knife to stick through one of the slices he had carved out from the crocodile to deposit on me, proceeding to give me a few more pieces until it felt like the bag was practically halfway full.
"Should be 'nough to cook up 'n' save for'a couple days," he said. Tying the bag closed into a tight knot that I would probably struggle with later, I stowed it in my own bag while Rick and Daryl finished stuffing the three other bags they'd brought. I noticed Maggie, who had been keeping a look out during this whole disgusting process, was now staring my way, a troubled frown pouting her lips. I looked away quickly, knowing Rick must have told her about my rejection.
"You sure you won't come with us?" she asked when Rick and Daryl finished zipping up their bags after storing everything away.
I almost felt bad knowing what she must be thinking; I was making a mistake and she'd probably never see me again. Rick and Daryl both looked over as they hiked their bags up on their shoulders ready to depart.
I ran my decision over again, but all I could think about were the Governor. Of Merle.
Todd could have trusted these people.
"I'm sure."
Without much else to say to one another, we treaded back through the swamp until we broke the treeline indicating we were back by the farm we originally had supposed to meet. Having hardly said more than a couple words on the way back as we tried to make it through quietly, it was awkward once we made it back to where we would part ways to depart to our parked cars.
"Thanks again," looking over the three, I offered a small smile of reassurance. I wish they wouldn't stare at me like I was some lost cause but I tried not to act too bitter about it. I offered Daryl a small nod farewell. Despite our rough first meeting, he wasn't a bad guy. Or at least that's what I'd like to think of these people.
"If you should change your mind..." Rick began.
"I'll give you a call?" I joked meekly, offering an easy smirk.
I don't think the others found me too humorous, but Rick cracked a small smile.
"It's cool. Take care of Lil' Asskicker."
I am SO sorry this took forever to get up! As you could obviously tell, I strayed from posting a pre-Woodbury chapter like I usually would every third chapter as an apology to you all. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and can forgive me now that I'm now introducing more interaction between the prison group (and yes, I know you all are just waiting for more Daryl) and Olive.
Thank you so much to Batman Reborn (who's review definitely inspired me to crank this chapter out), happyharry, crossbowweilder, and ever guest who was awesome enough to leave their feedback last chapter. I hope to keep hearing from you readers. So I'd like to keep the structure of the story, so next chapter will definitely be a flashback chapter and will replace this as twenty, thus moving it to officially become chapter twenty-one. Hope that doesn't confuse my readers for the next update that I've almost finished. Now don't get too discouraged, I do realize this is another chapter Olive has slipped through the cracks of joining the prison group, but I hope you guys are patient enough and enjoy where I want to take this.
The lyrics introducing this chapter are from the song You Will Miss Me When I Burn by Palace Brothers. Reviews desperately appreciated!
Edit 5/30/14 Okay so the story is now caught up in proper order. Just a reminder, the update today was the original chapter twenty. Thanks!