The cold rain dwindled to a mist as the truck pulled up to the factory. It squealed to a stop, and in the rear Rick and the three Marines stood and aimed their weapons.
The former sheriff cringed when he heard his voice. The voice he'd talk to during the long shifts, the voice that whispered "this is gonna be good" when the two watched Lori walk down the aisle, and the voice that left him to die with a simple "see ya," in a hospital that soon fell into a war zone.
"Okay, boys, let's get this haul unloaded and inside. I want to get back in there and unload a little myself."
"Shane, I need to talk to you about redirect."
"What about the redirect?"
"It got screwed up. We're on it now, but it's a mess out there."
"And whose job was that?" He sneered, moving closer to the man he called George.
Shane suddenly ducked and tried to find cover as Fat Joey opened the rear door and the never-ending sound of machine guns took out the dozen Saviors standing around.
Amid the pops and screams Shane raised his arms and yelled, "drop your weapons."
He stood and showed his empty hands, his sidearm safely tucked behind his back.
"Well…hello there. Thought I took care of you a long time ago. My buddies didn't send you a good message?" He sneered, as he stood eye to eye with Rick.
"Where is she?"
"Who?" He teased.
"Where is she?"
"Don't matter how many times you ask. You want the little bastard too?" Shane chuckled, as the tip of Rick's AR-15 was inches away from his temple.
"Tell me where they are. Right now."
"What's the magic word?"
Rick's response was to use the butt of his gun to connect with Shane's nose. As the blood started to flow, Rick seethed, "This is gonna end one way. I'm leaving with Michonne and Andre. And all your shit."
The other saviors who heard the commotion ran out of the factory and were promptly taken down by the Military. Some survivors raised their arms in surrender but were still disposed of. Heeding Rick's advice of not trusting anybody, they mowed down everyone they saw.
Rick handcuffed Shane's hands behind his back, removed the man's gun, and demanded his former friend take him to Michonne.
She knew she broke through the first few layers of skin. The pain was blinding, but she wanted to be with Andre. She wanted to be with Rick, Lori and their children.
Her leg ached. The oil Shane poured stuck to her skin, and when he lit it ablaze she screamed in agony. He smiled as he poured water over the wound, causing the fire to spread. He used the bristles of a broom to beat out the flames.
This was going to be the day. She had the final say as to her destiny.
She was sweating profusely, and hissed in pain as she felt the wound open and the thick yellow fluid flow down her arm. She worked through the pain, grinding her bleeding wrist into the sharp edge of the chain.
She just wanted to close her eyes, just for a moment. She was so tired.
Michonne weakly opened her eyes as she heard the thump. She was ready for another round of torture. She welcomed it, and was ready for death.
She thought she heard Rick's voice, and felt a tug on her wrists. She could look through the haze and saw a figure pick up Shane's hatchet. A few whacks to the base of the chain finally released the pressure on her shoulders.
"Oh Jesus…oh shit" She heard. She knew it was another hallucination.
Her senses were almost suspended in animation. The blood rushing down to her hands was painful and she was finally able to sit when the chains around her ankles were gone.
She felt a warm feeling envelope her torso and could recognize Rick's scent. There was a tightening sensation around her right bicep and she felt a sharp tug. The last thing she heard before she passed out was the panicked sound of Rick's voice begging her to wake up.
Rick arrived back at the Hilltop with Michonne. He raced inside, carrying her bridal style to the infirmary.
"We can't have that here. If she turns she'll kill us all." Gregory snapped.
Doctor Carson threw the man out of the room before he started work on Michonne. He tried to hold his composure in front of Rick, but he had never seen such brutality inflicted on another human being. She had countless deep gouges on her back, her right leg was at least a third degree burn from her waist to her ankle, and the skin and tissue on her right wrist was eroded, almost to the muscles.
"When was her last tetanus shot?"
A chill went down Rick's spine when he didn't know.
"Has it been within the past six years?"
"I dunno. She okay?"
"No. She's septic."
"Does she need a transfusion?"
"Do you know her type?"
"No." He whispered. "Is it the wrist?"
"No. It's her entire bloodstream."
Rick closed his eyes as the room started to spin, and asked "can we do anything? Hicks said McNair has a hospital."
"I'm sorry. She's in septic shock. Not just the wrist, but her wounds weren't cleaned. Either that or what they used was dirty."
He cleared his throat and tried to maintain his sanity.
"How long do you think she has?"
Hicks radioed ahead and had Lori waiting at the outside gate with Julia and Catherine.
When Julia finally saw her daddy, she squealed and raided her arms. He hugged her tightly before taking Lori into his arms. She could feel his tears dampen her shirt as he sobbed.
A grave was already dug for Michonne, and Rick helped place her inside.
The two stood together, hand in hand, staying silent over the grave of their lover.
When they got back to the house Rick took a hot shower, trying to erase the mental image of Michonne chained to the wall, her arms and legs spread in an almost impossible position. He put his hand over his face and cried when he thought about the condition of her back and how deep the wounds were and what she had to endure.
Although he was hungry he didn't eat his chicken and dumplings, preferring to push the food around with his fork.
He helped with putting the kids to bed before joining Lori on the sofa.
"You wanna talk about it?" she asked.
He shook his head no, but reached over and grabbed her arm, holding her tightly.
"I'm sorry, baby."