DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Walking Dead.
Sorry for the long delay, guys. A lot of work and some crazy stuff going on at my end of the world. Hopefully this will make up for it. Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy.
AND by the way, I don't get to watch TWD over here until Fridays. So if you would all be extremely kind as to not accidently drop any spoilers into reviews, that would be swell. (Not that you would- you all seem lovely and respectful and awesome, but you know how some people can be.) But I shall no doubt rant about what happened when I release the next chapter. Peace out.
Daryl and I decide to find the others.
Honestly, I wouldn't find it completely horrible to avoid the others today. Something in the air desperately begs for silence, for a respectful quiet to follow Dale's funeral. However, not everything in nature agrees.
Still, we walk together in silence. Once or twice he glances towards me, and quickly ducks his head to the ground. Part of me wants to press what's running through his head, but then the logical thing to do would be to not venture into that realm.
The peace does have it's place. There's a sort of calm that suggests the slightest hint of hope that maybe all the bad luck has passed. It's incredibly unlikely, and I wouldn't bet anything on it, but still. It's something.
Maybe we've won the place we all needed at one time or another. A safety? A sanctuary?
A home?
An excessive growl in my stomach burns through me, and on instinct, my hands fly up to my belly as my lips twist into a deep frown.
"I could go for a cheeseburger," I say wistfully, remembering a particular dish that they served at a cafe near my place in the city. Oh boy, what I wouldn't give for an extra serving of fries right now.
Daryl looks at me with an arched brow. "What, my squirrel 'ain't good enough?" he asks, mock offence animating his voice in a strange, unfamiliar way.
"Geez, forgive me, oh mighty Chef Dixon," I retort, sarcasm roughly lacing my voice as I lift my hands in defence.
A laugh escapes me when I feel his hand against my arm, lightly shoving me from my spot. "Shut it." There's a mask of harshness in his voice, but it's lost under a small smirk that he can't hide.
"Harassment!" I accuse through a quiet chuckle that can't be repressed.
When he turns his head to look at me once more, his lips part, as if to speak. But he is cut off by the sound of yells in the distance. Nothing that sounds threatening, or dangerous, but completely unexpected.
Our heads turn simultaneously towards the sound, waiting to hear more that would provoke action. As we listen, it becomes clear who the voices belong to.
"Come on," Daryl says, his voice quiet with consideration. Perhaps this is nothing we need to involve ourselves in, but best to check up anyway. He gives a small nod of the head, and I follow him as he tracks the source.
We find them quickly, caught up in the heat of an argument that we have clearly missed the no doubt exciting beginning of.
Shane and Rick are standing opposite each other, Rick calm and collected as best as he can be, whilst Shane paces before him, his eyes shining with wild defence.
The others are there, and whilst Daryl quietly and slyly moves forward in case violence breaks out, I hang back just beside Glenn and T-Dog, who are watching with exasperated faces, as if this were expected.
"What's going on?" I murmur to T-Dog, who has his arms crossed and eyes that are watching carefully, almost like he were observing a couple of animals in the zoo.
He replies with a shrug. "They just started going at it," he explains. Upon seeing my questioning eyes he explains furthur. "Long time coming. Best to just let them work it out."
Long time coming? I've only ever noticed a slight tense mood around them sometimes, but nothing that I ever thought would amount to a full-on fallout. Interest peaked, I stand back and watch them, keen to see where this came from...and possibly where it goes.
Mid-debate, Shane's shoulders are raised with a tension that makes him appear to have an animalistic quality, and his teeth are bared in anger as he spits towards Rick, "You've been wanting to press the trigger at my head, I can see it in your eyes!"
Rick doesn't hold back the heavy sigh that is released from his lips. "Don't you understand how insane this sounds? Just try and cool off!" His voice is harsh, and strange coming from the normally gentle leader, but his instinct of defence overtakes him.
"Tryin' to brush me off, huh? Get me to leave?! I see what you're doin'!" Shane continues. He begins to look crazy, caught up in the fiery heat of the fight like a drug. Just past him, I see Lori and Carl standing a few feet away. No part of this seems right for them to see, particularly Carl. His face is contorted into fear as he watches the two men battle. "I've stood by you every second, Rick!"
"I know you have-"
"What have I done?! I mean, I know things aren't the way they used to be, but that's no-"
"You know what you did!" Rick snaps, his voice raised and close to slicing the silence in half like a knife. The sound is frightening, and completely jarring to the ears. Carl flinches in the corner of my eye, and beside me, Glenn and T-Dog shift on their feet uncomfortably. Rick's arm moves to gesture towards us. "Pretty sure everyone else does too!"
At this point, Lori steps forward, gently directing Carl behind her. Her face is set, just a hint of threat under her features. "Okay, just stop-"
Rick ignores her, and continues his rampage towards Shane. "That's why I can't look at you the same! If you're feeling hostility, maybe that's why!"
"You just can't put that behind you! I said I was sorry, I didn't mean-"
Shaking his head to himself, Rick just scoffs under his breath. Once he raises his eyes towards his friend once more, they're narrowed in motion as if he were in pain. He watches Shane with a pitiful stare. "Shane, just stop! Stop trying to redeem yourself!"
Shane's face changes then. Something switches from anger to knowledge; something that causes him to lose the fire in his features and relax into something more akin to smugness. "...Maybe that's not it. Maybe it's somethin' else."
At his words, Rick's body freezes. The air around them suddenly changes. It becomes much less about anger and disagreement, and turns into something much more dangerous. For a moment, nobody says a word, just waiting to hear what's to come out into the open.
Lori seems to know something that we don't, and quickly leaves Carl to step towards them. She places a firm hand on Shane's shoulder to prevent him from going any futhur, and she begins to pull him back. Under her breath she firmly hisses towards him, "That's enough."
Shane tugs his arm from her grip harshly, and moves closer to Rick. His shoulders stoop towards the man in a way that makes me want to cringe. It seems too patronising, too condescending to a figure like Rick. Almost disrespectful in a way. "No, no, look at him. He's not feeling angry about me," he muses in a deep voice, his lips upturning in a knowing smirk. "He's angry about himself. He knows he can't take care of you anymore."
When Rick speaks, his voice seems cutting and bitter with all the venom in his veins dripping .
There should be a silence that follows. Everyone should fall quiet from shock and unexpectancy, thefrom the word. "Enough."
"That's it, isn't it? You're feeling pissed because you know that you really can't protect 'em!"
"I said enough!"
"Not Carl, not Lori...for sure not the baby-"
Wait. What?
The baby?
Beside me, Glenn drops his head. T-Dog releases his arms and lets them hang limply to the ground words ringing in the air between the group.
But there is no silence. The only sound that follows is a vicious cry of rage that rips from Rick's throat as he lunges towards Shane, soon taking him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Dust kicks up from the ground, and is accompanied by a string of curses and grunts as the two begin brawling right in front of us.
There is no time to consider the words that have just been spoken, as the violence ensues at such a pace. Daryl leaps in the moment it begins, and T-Dog quickly joins, both ready to rip the two apart before one of them ends up close to dead.
"Oh shit..." Glenn mumbles beside me, turning his back against the fight.
In the meantime, I can't turn myself away. It's all too fascinating and horrific at the same time.
Someone is bleeding. The bright blush of red on knuckles and staining the ground seems too vivid to miss. It's hard to tell who though, as they move at such a rate that I can barely tell who from who.
"Stop!" Lori cries from behind them. I almost want to roll my eyes at her. That is not how you stop a fight, Lori. Please do something useful.
But then I remember what I have just heard.
Andrea's voice comes in next, demanding them to stop. A some point, Carl has disappeared, most likely taken by Carol who is gone also.
The battle seems to last for hours, but it's really just minutes later that the two have been seperated like children. Rick is being helped up by T-Dog, and has conflict written in worry all over his face, along with a dribble of blood leaking from a spilt lower lip. It's obvious that he wants to jump back in and half kill his old partner, but he is trying desperately to remember who he is.
Shane on the other hand, is not going down so easy. Daryl has him by the neck, still on the ground. He's kicking wildly, threats pouring from his lips like prayers towards Daryl.
Rick watches for a moment, but as soon as Lori reaches him to lay a hand on his shoulder, he steps back from her. His lips are spread into a tight line of distress, and he ignores the sounds of his name as he turns and leaves promptly. Despite his behaviour, Lori takes one disgusted glare towards Shane and follows him.
I turn behind me and see Glenn make his way towards us, his hat in his hand, appearing completely defeated.
Andrea sees him also, and nods her head in the other direction. "Glenn, go back to the house and check on Carl. He's probably freaking out."
Glenn pauses in his steps, but nods in understanding. I hear his feet against the hard ground as he leaves, and I cast my eye down to Shane, who has given up the struggle with Daryl.
"You shouldn't have gone that far," Andrea mutters down to him. "Pushing Rick like that."
"Let me go, Dixon!" he spits towards Daryl, who was still restraining him to the best of his ability.
"Pfft, sure," Daryl retorted, sarcasm heavy in his voice, only tightening his grip. "So you can beat the shit outta' the rest of us?"
"He came at me!"
"You deserved it." I don't even realise that the thought has left my lips aloud until the others turn their heads towards me. From the ground, Shane sents a glare up my way. Opps.
"Wanna explain that, Miss Smartass?" he growled. A small grunt escapes him when Daryl twists his hands and cramps his neck a little furthur.
"Be nice," I think I hear him hiss down at the officer.
"She's right, Shane. That was none of your business to announce," Andrea states, folding her arms towards him. "Nobody's interested in your defence until you cool off." She looks towards me. "Let's leave them to it."
I didn't bother to disagree with her. Sure, there was some strange anxiety at the thought of leaving Daryl with a vengeful Shane, but I put it down purely for the fact that I've spent a good portion of the day with him.
She turns and leaves, but I take one more moment to check in with Daryl. See if he wants me to stay. Our partnership is a two way deal. He glances at me with an affermative look in those sharp blue eyes and sends me a nod of assurance.
It's only then that I can clearly turn my back on them and return to the thoughts that have begun to race in my head.
The sky grows thick with clouds as the day passes. The silence that was once respectful and welcomed was now stinging and bland, awkward with the new revelations.
It's exactly thirty two minutes and three seconds later that the thought becomes very clear to me.
Lori is pregnant.
As in pregnant.
Initially, my first thought is that in the middle of a zombie apocalypse isn't exactly the most romantic place to consummate. But hey, I suppose it's all necessary, right?
The magnitude of the reality hits me so hard that it almost knocks me off my feet and back onto the ground on my ass. (An ass that just hours ago, Daryl told me wasn't bad.)
How long must have she known this? Unbelievable. I mean quite frankly, the thought have having one child during all this is bad enough. But having to carry one around in your stomach and then bring it up afterwards? The medical side of things doesn't look too bright either. Nobody around here is really qualified enough to assist in birthing anyway. Carol perhaps, and maybe even Rick, but who's to say that either of those two will make it nine months?
Besides, there is an indescribable amount of things that could go wrong anyway. Miscarriage, twins, complications that could kill Lori...
There's barely enough food around here to feed the ones that are already around, let alone one more.
This baby only means more work for Daryl, for me, for everyone. This is nothing but a negative factor in a huge world of shit.
Without warning, anger begins to boil inside me uncontrollably.
How could they be so stupid? Getting pregnant in the middle of the end of the world is just about the dumbest thing I've ever heard. It'll kill them, and maybe everyone else along with it. Just another reason for me to leave right this second before I get trapped in with the rest of them. The kid is a fucking danger.
If anything does happen to her or the baby, which it most likely will, the emotional impact on the rest of the group will be staggering. Carl will just about want to run away, Shane will have a freaking field day, and there will probably be a suicide or something in the shape of an ex-police officer with a broken heart.
I have half a mind to find Lori and tell her myself about her god-damn stupidity.
However, there is a thought that poses itself in the back of my mind that keeps my feet planted firmly on the ground.
What if she choses not to keep it? She might have only been pregnant for a while now. It's likely that she's fully aware of all the trouble this will bring. Maybe she'll find a way to...get rid of the thing.
Get rid of the thing.
Jesus Christ. No sooner than a second after the words pass through my mind, I want to put a bullet in my own brain.
Since when am I like this? I have plenty of negative qualities, there's no denying, but this is a fucking baby. An unborn one, at that. Here I am talking like it's a virus, or some parasite that needs to be rid of.
Shame and humiliation hit me like a wave as a result of my own selfishness. This is not my problem, and quite frankly not exactly my business. Lori will do what she thinks best (be it stupid or not) and there's nothing I can do about it.
Still, the lack of control for me is overwhelming, and I can't stop from letting my head fall into my hands and letting out a large groan. "Shit," I mutter into my palms.
"Lyla?" a voice calls from around the corner. I lift my head, and pray that it's someone worth talking to.
Soon, a blonde head walks into sight, and a pair of curious light blue eyes meet mine.
Andrea. Close enough.
"Hey." I wonder if she's spoken to Lori, or even Rick since the fight. Normally, I wouldn't be one for gossip, but this surpasses 'normal' by far. "What's happening with Lori?"
Andrea shrugs and moves forward. From the way her lips are twisted and her eyes are slightly darkened, I can tell she's been thinking about this just as much as I have. "Well, she's definitely pregnant."
"You talked to her?"
She nods in response. I try and withold my questions to maintain some sense of pride, but it's hard when everyone else seems to be in the equal know. Or lack of.
"Is she keeping it?"
"Seems so at this point," she sighs tiredly, before moping past me as she runs a hand through her hair. "What do you think about this?"
I follow her as she walks, completely entranced by her calm reaction. "I feel bad for her. It's a hard choice. Shit luck."
"What would you do?"
"Huh?"
"If you got pregnant."
Huh. That does pose an interesting thought. Although it is a thought that makes my stomach crawl and my toes curl. I didn't even want to look after a baby before the dead started coming back to life, let alone have one and keeping it alive. "Oh...uh..." The question instantly makes my uncomfortable, and no simple answers come to mind. "I guess I wouldn't get pregnant," I decide to say.
Andrea doesn't buy it, and quirks an eyebrow towards me. "That's not the question."
"Well I don't know what to tell you. That's kinda personal."
Her voice drops into a considering silence for a few beats, before nodding her head towards the ground. "...You're right. Sorry." I chose to kick a rock across the ground instead of replying. As the silence drifts in like an unwelcome friend, she lifts her eyes towards me. "You know what this means?"
"It means a lot of things. Lori will need more food. Water. Then there's the whole pressure of keeping the baby alive. If it dies, it'll kill her, and if it's born, it'll probably die anyway." When I catch sight of her bright blue eyes again, she appears to have recoiled at the idea. I guess I can't withold my harsh thoughts even if I want to. "...God, sorry. That sounded-"
"No, I guess you're right."
The thought is uncomfortable between us, and settles in the air like poison.
We've stopped by a driveway, a single car laying lazily parked just off-center. Dust has gathered around the frame and on the windows, like a dirty blanket suffocating the previously shiny metal. A cool breeze rushes past, cutting right through me. "It's getting colder," I say quietly, to break the unbareable quiet if nothing else.
Andrea says nothing, simply nodding her head and taking a large inhale of breath. There is still the need of one person written all over her face. It's clear that she is not coping well with Dale's death. The dark bags under her eyes and the droop in her shoulders show that she hasn't slept. Hasn't stopped thinking about it. Instead of attempting to carry on a conversation with me, she turns and begins to walk away. The urge inside me to say something is too strong to let her go.
"Andrea." Hearing her name, she turns her head over her shoulder. "...I'm really sorry. About Dale."
She flinches at his name. Her voice comes out a cracked, timid thing. "It's okay," she mumbled, casting her sad eyes to the ground. "He didn't die alone."
I want to say more, but nothing comforting comes to mind. I'm not great at this whole reassurance thing.
It's actually quite a relief when she musters up her energy to produce a weak smile. "I'm gonna go and check on her." Without anything else to say, she turns her head and continues her exit, taking the awkwardness with her that I'm so happy to rid of.
The silence barely settles in before a small shuffle of gravel echoes through my ears. Nothing to worry about; I know exactly what it is.
Or more, who it is.
When I was sure that she was gone, I turned towards the driveway and called out towards the car.
"You can come out."
After a thoughtful pause, the dark hair of Carl poked around the side before the rest of him followed.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I try my hardest not to question him immediately about what has happened. "I don't take kindly to spies, kid."
"I wasn't spying," he muttered in response. The face of a child, already developing the attitude of a teenager. Can't wait to see how Lori will handle that one.
"Then do tell, why were you behind the car?"
"...Hiding." When his head tilts up, I can just about see red rims around his eyes, and it's quickly clear that he's been crying. Perhaps out of frustration. He can't be blamed, really. I'd probably end up crying too. "I don't really wanna see anyone."
"...Have you talked to your Mom?"
"Yeah."
When he doesn't elaborate, I roll my eyes and wave my hand to prompt him. "...And?"
"She lied to me. I should know what's going on."
"I think she might have just been a little conflicted."
His eyes shoot towards me then, and there's anger and pain. Nothing that suits him, and nothing that he should be wearing, but it's definitely there. "But it's my brother or sister," he says, bitterness lacing his voice.
I can't do anything but give a small nod in return. "I know."
"I hate having secrets being hidden from me. I can deal with things." Without warning, he lets out an anguished cry into the air, and turns towards the car once more slamming his foot against the metal frame. "It's just bullshit!" he spits, kicking it again. He doesn't stop, and the sound of the contact is painful to listen to. The car gently rocks back and forth with the movement as he continiously kicks against the vehicle.
"Carl," I sharply demand. I don't like the way my voice sounds, but he barely notices. Before I know it, I'm walking over, and grabbing his shoulder to pull him away. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay."
"No, it's not!" he whines, raising a fist and whacking it against my stomach. It doesn't hurt, but I don't think he intends it to. He's angry, and wants to scream and yell and get rid of the anger that he's suddenly feeling.
It's too much to bear. His face is contorted into an evil thing, filled with hate and fire for everything that's doing this to him. His family, this world; everything. It's the only thing I can truly understand, and there's only one thing I can think to do to stop him before he hurts himself.
I grab his shoulders with both hands to steady him, and without thinking, I pull him into me and wrap my arms around his frame. I'm not quite sure how this works, but it seems natural to place one arm around his back and the other just behind his head. "Stop!" It sounds like a plead, but it works, as I can feel his frame slowly but surely relax a little more. Soon, the flailing of fists stops, and he's just leaning into me with his arms by his sides and his head buried against my stomach. His shoulders are shaking, but I can't hear tears. "Jesus. Calm down."
My heart freezes stiff when I feel his arms link around my back. A strange shifting feeling behind my stomach makes itself known.
Hugging is unnatural to me. But this isn't hugging. This is something much more intense, and I'm not sure I know what to call it.
However, it's not completely unpleasant.
The feeling that comes next can only be described as a long needed breath of air.
Loneliness, when you feel it, can feel like drowning. Like nobody can hear you but you're sinking deeper and deeper into the dark the longer you're on your own.
People like Carl and Daryl make it a little easier to swim back up.
Suddenly, it hits me. What this strange and foreign sensation is. It's something completely terrifing and compromising, and I shove it back down as fast as I can.
I step out of Carl's arms quickly, ignoring the questioning look that automatically comes to his face. "Dude," I say, my voice sounding dry with the heavy thoughts. I stick out a finger and prod his chest. "Don't talk like that again. I don't want the blame for your foul mouth."
A corner of his lip upturns in a hidden smirk. Yeah, real impressive. Swearing will be one of those things that always cause kids amusment. But it disappears as quickly as it came as he remembers his previous dismay. His hands slide into his pockets, and his shoe scuffs against the dirt. "...It probably won't even be that great."
"What won't?"
"Having a brother or sister. It's already making everyone fight. What'll happen when it comes?"
The air has settled now, and the sense of calm has somewhat returned. "You kidding?" I scoff. "Being a big brother? Gotta be the best."
He looks up at me, obvious doubt in his tired eyes. "How?"
"You're only getting a damn personal slave," I reply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You get a best bud. You're gonna be the boss of the kid. Enjoy it."
There's a look of doubt that flashes in his eyes, but it's lost as they flicker past me. Something else has caught his attention now.
When I turn my head, I see Daryl standing just a few feet away, his eyes dead set on the pair of us with intense observation.
Unsettlement runs through me like hot water. I hope that he didn't catch sight of Carl and I in our private moment of peace.
If he did, he doesn't say anything, and simply nods his head towards Carl like a silent command. "Yer' Dad wants ya."
I hear a small sigh from the kid beside me, but he doesn't dare disobey Daryl's obvious prompt to leave. He barely sends another glance towards me as he walks away, his shoulders stooped and his head fallen.
After watching him leave in the direction of the house (we don't need another situation like last time), I turn my head to where Daryl stands, his arms hanging by his sides limply. As he looks back towards me, there is some hidden scrutiny in his eyes that I can't quite figure out. Something beyond simple observance.
"What?" I ask, my voice short and snappy sounding.
It takes him a moment to reply, but when he does, it's a quick mumble accompanied by the shrug of the shoulders. "Nothin'."
I don't bother to pursue the thought, as there's another burning deep at the back of my mind. Daryl's opinion on the pregnancy should be interesting. He begins to walk, and moves past me with a brush of air that's calm and everything that doesn't match the group's mentality. He seems an outsider in every way possible. "Daryl?"
He stops at the car in which Carl was hiding behind. He doesn't turn his back to face me, but none the less gives me his ears as he opens the backseat and pulls out a black backpack. The sound of water in bottles rushes from the inside as he lifts it out. "Hmm?"
I follow him and lean against the side of the frame, watching him as he works. "What do you think about this? The whole pregnancy thing, I mean."
"Tough luck," he muttered, as if it meant less than nothing to him. "Ain't ma problem Lori got herself knocked up."
"Yeah, but...it's weird."
"Not really."
"What do you mean?"
He answers with a half-hearted shrug. "Well, was bound to happen sooner or later." As he swings the bag back over his shoulder, a small smirk is hides in the corner of his face, like a private joke. "She's the only one havin' sex round here, after all."
When he's finished speaking, he looks at me and catches my eyes in his. We're not children by any means, but the mention of sex, for some reason, feels pretty taboo. Especially when Daryl says it. Any response to that is completely non-existant, and the air quickly shifts between us into an uncomfortable silence. His own words catch up with him, and his head drops to the ground hastily.
A small mumble leaves him moments later, accompanied by shifting feet and an avoidance of eye contact. "I'm gonna...leave."
I push myself away from the car, and point in a general direction that I'm really not paying attention to as much as I pretend I am. "Yeah, I gotta just...uh, check the uh...stuff."
Without anything else to say, I turn my back on him and walk away, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks.
It would seem at this point that the day literally cannot get any stranger.
-X-
Redneck and Newbie leave quickly.
He looks at her once more but she doesn't see.
This whole mission is starting to feel like some terrible soap opera.
No time for this.
Focus needs to be kept. Time is running short.
The biters are gaining in fast, and the first part of the plan is already complete. There is only one thing to be done right now.
Blood was always the prettiest thing.
It feels wet and slippery in the hands as you hold it. The smell is metallic, and sharp against the nostrils.
You can almost see why the hungry dead want your flesh. It's so...appealing.
So beautiful.
You empty the last of the large plastic bag onto the dried, crunchy grass, and the contents spill out like gold. There is now an artwork of blood and insides laying there, and it's oh-so tempting to teach out and touch it. It couldn't hurt. Just perhaps a touch...
No.
No time. The biters are coming in close, you can hear them. The boss was very clear about what he wanted. No screw-ups. No second tries.
The pair of wire-cutters you place against the fence for later. The time of action rings in your head like a constant command. 7:00pm. Not a second later or sooner. You abandon the bag and take off from the scene, never looking back at the mess you've made.
Even as you get furthur and furthur away, the sweet smell of blood still hangs in the air.