A/N: After seeing Sunday's episode, this is now official, though I've been telling you all this for a while. With this chapter, I'm taking the story my own direction. This will be the last one that follows the events of the TV series (though the characters and the plot still remained based heavily upon the TV series). That being said, "Terminus" will be the start of Part 2 of the story. Yes, this story is a long one, but I've had the end in sight ever since I wrote Chapter 1, so it was always meant to be long. I hope I take this story in a direction that is believable and pleasing to all my readers. Thank you all for sticking with this story and I hope you continue to enjoy.
Now, let's begin.
Morning.
After my little anxiety attack last night, I can't exactly say that I'm happy about being awake. Michonne and Rick are already awake and, judging by the smell, cooking what is to be our breakfast. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the sunlight, but then I rise up, shaking Carl lightly to wake him from his sleep and then I begin to make my way over to the camp fire. Michonne greets me with a smile, Rick a subtle wave, and I take a seat next to Michonne. None of us say a word. All of us look exhausted. Carl joins us shortly thereafter, sitting next to me, and Rick stands, hands on his hips, to admire his handy work.
"How hungry are you? Scale of one to ten?" he directs at Carl, prodding one of the cans in the flames with a stick.
"Fifteen." Carl snorts sleepily.
"Twenty-eight." Michonne quips, bringing a grin to Rick's lips.
All three of them look at me now and I can't help but join in.
"A hundred, now gimme my food." I answer in a snarky manner.
"You're always hungry." Carl says, rolling his eyes.
"I was just as bad before The Turn." I reply, rubbing my hands together for warmth in the cold morning air. "My mother use to have to fight me away from the fridge."
That particular bit of information causes all three of them to chuckle to themselves and Rick sets about passing around the cans of rations. More noodles from the looks of it. Not that I care. I wasn't just playing along with them when I said I was hungry. My stomach was making hungry walker noises and that meant it needed food now. I hungrily tear into my food while Carl blows out the small flame still lit in our fire pit. How he's not tearing into his own food, I'll never understand. He's not a typical teenage boy when it comes to food, that's for sure. Most of us eat like ravenous pigs, but Carl is a fairly fickle eater for the most part. The only time I've ever known him to have eaten just an enormous amount is when I learned that he was the one responsible for eating that entire carton of chocolate pudding I had found the day we met. And that was a little over a month ago now.
"That'll have to do for now." Rick says. "I'm going to go check the snares."
"Can I go with you?" Carl asks, looking up at his father.
"Well how else are you going to learn?" Rick replies.
At first, Michonne and I stay put, continuing on with our breakfast. But Rick steps in front of us, looking down upon us.
"Hey," he says, drawing our attention. "You guys too."
And with that, after grabbing our weapons, we're off into the woods. Even though I'm technically being dragged along, I still eat my rations while we walk. No way am I giving up a meal that easily. With any luck, however, I'll learn a thing or two myself from watching Rick and Carl work. That may have been Rick's point in the first place.
"I was thinking," Rick says as we walk through the woods. "That we'll stay another day or two."
"To finish healing up?" Michonne asks casually.
"I'm almost there." Rick replies.
I can see the conflict in Carl's eyes, however. It seems that every time we're about to Terminus, it's always "a day or two more". I, on the other hand, welcome it. I'm in no rush. Especially after the anxiety attack I experienced last night. And Michonne made a valid point. The funeral home was tough on all of us. Getting separated, running from the herd, Carl getting sick. Shit just continues hitting the fan and we have yet to get our full strength completely back. We're always moving. Always running.
"But you said-" Carl protests.
"I know what I said." Rick cuts him off. "But it'll do us no good rush."
"We're close, though." Carl argues.
"To Terminus? We are." Rick replies. "But it still wouldn't hurt."
We walk a little further, but it seems Carl has more to say.
"When we get there," he begins. "Do we tell 'em?"
"Tell them what?" Michonne chimes in.
"Everything that happened to us." he continues. "All the stuff we've done. We gonna tell them the truth?"
"We'll tell them who we are." Rick replies simply.
"But, how do you say that? ...Who are we?"
Rick stops walking and turns to his son. Internally, I wonder to myself just how long this has all been on Carl's mind. He hasn't spoken to me at all about it. All that seems to have been on his mind lately is finding his friends. Michonne looks back at me quizzically, as if to see if I know what he's talking about. All I can offer is a shrug. Rick begins to open his mouth to answer, but the sudden cracking of a branch startles all three of us, followed by the snarl of a hungry walker. Its only one of them, but all four of us draw our weapons anyways. Michonne takes the lead and reaches it first, decapitating it without even flinching. It's amazing, to me at least, how unfazed we were becoming by the sight of walkers. Back when the Turn first began, I remember being terrified at just the smell of them. Hell, before the Atlanta camp fell I would run at the sight of a walker. Even after the sight of them unnerved me. But now? Seeing them is expected and unless they come in a herd, I don't even blink an eye at the sight of one. We soon come out into a clearing where Rick and Carl set their traps the day before.
"There you go!" Rick exclaims, picking up his pace to reach the trap.
Sure enough, there, caught in a small noose, is a rabbit.
"It's just a small one." Rick notes, freeing the dead animal and shoving it into his knapsack. "But, it'll do." Looking up to make sure all three of us are watching him, Rick launches into his explanation of the trap. "So, this is a simple slip knot. You tie it to both ends of the branch. Now you see how the ground here is sort of like a funnel shape?"
I glance at where he's gesturing. He's right. The leaves and the very ground itself have a funnel-like impression in them. But it doesn't just stop with the leaves. It continues on, past where we are, and into the trees. I know from my long time alone on the road, prior to meeting Carl that it's a game trail. Back in those days, I used to follow them whenever I was forced to travel in the woods. It made hunting easier and kept me from getting lost more than once.
"It's a trail?" Carl asks, stating the obvious.
"That's right." Rick replies. "That's where you want to set the noose. You cover it with leaves and sticks so that any animal coming this way has to run right through it. Right here."
Rick demonstrates with his hand how the trap works.
I marvel at its simplicity, yet, effectiveness. In fact, I'm almost envious that I hadn't learned that before. It certainly would have prevented me from going without eating more than once in the past.
"Wish I had known that before." I mumble to myself, airing my thoughts aloud.
"Didn't you ever hunt for food?" Carl asks me, glancing my way.
"On occasions, yes." I reply. "But there are only so many animals that will allow you to get close enough to them with a sword."
Michonne chuckles at this, "The man speaks the truth." she replies.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"
The screams cut our conversation completely off, causing our heads to snap up in the direction they're coming from. Without warning, Carl draws his gun and bolts into the woods.
"Carl!" Rick barks. "Carl stop!"
But there is no stopping Carl Grimes. Ducking under a branch, he charges off in the direction of the screams.
"Shit!" I spit, unsheathing my sword, and tearing off after him.
"Tanner!" Its Michonne this time.
I'm not stopping either. Wherever Carl goes, I go. Especially when there is a chance of danger. And so, with no other option left, the two adults haul after us. I tear through the underbrush, keeping my eyes locked on Carl, who is only a few feet in front of me. We round a corner and come to a much larger clearing. There is a mid-sized pack of walkers filling it, surrounding a bespectacled man wielding a stick. Its obvious the man can't see us standing just inside the treeline, but he continues to scream regardless. Honestly, screaming is a dumb move on his part. It only serves to continue drawing the walkers towards him. To my surprise, Carl raises his gun to take aim, but even I know there is no chance that he'll mow down those walkers. He doesn't have nearly the ammunition required to take them all down and with more walkers pouring out of the trees, even with Rick and Michonne with us, we'll be overrun. I reach to stop him, but Rick, arriving at just that moment, beats me to the punch, wrapping his arms around his son and pulling him back, preventing him from firing in the process.
"We can't help him!" Rick declares.
And so we don't.
I watch in disgust as the walkers tear the man's face off with just their teeth. Then they converge and I lose sight of him. Even so, I know what's happening. They're eating him alive. I've seen it before. The real problem is the walkers that have been left out of the feeding frenzy. Two of them notice us and begin to lurch forward towards our hiding spot.
"Rick..." I hiss under my breath.
"We've gotta go!" Michonne urges at the same time.
With that, the four of us depart the scene, running off back into the woods. We manage to run in the right direction. Perfectly, in fact, because we quickly come out of the trees again, only this time, it's on the railroad tracks. From the snarls I hear building behind us, I can tell the walkers aren't too far behind. And, as it turns out, they aren't too far in front either. An even smaller cluster of them are bent over the tracks, working on a corpse of their own. Rick runs ahead of us and I am close behind him, Michonne and Carl at my side. Rick gets the kill on the first walker, I get the second, Michonne the third, and Carl the fourth. Our teamwork is definitely becoming more fluid. Moreover, I feel safer when we fight as one. Seems things always go better that way.
"Let's go." Rick orders, even over the hisses of the walkers behind us.
With no questioning or further comments from any of us, all four of us run off after him, taking ourselves off the tracks and heading directly for the roadside.
Looks like we won't be camping here for a few days after all...
####
Night has fallen.
Running from those walkers took most of our day from us. I have to hand it to them. The dead may be slow and clumsy, but they were damn persistent. We would have been further by now were it not for them. Carl and I are trying our best to get some sleep in the back of a blue pickup he had found on the side of the road. Rick and Michonne had lingered outside to talk. Everything was ordinary… or so we thought. Setting up camp here had been simple. We hadn't seen any walkers since earlier and we were closing in on Terminus. It is beginning to look like like it is just going to be another night on the road.
Carl sleeps, though restlessly, against my shoulder. I can't sleep. Too many thoughts are racing through my head. I've realized, by this point, that Terminus could be a blessing in disguise. It can also be a curse. The suspense of finding out which is what is causing my , I can hear Rick and Michonne talk to one another, though what they're talking about is to muffled for me to make out. My stomach growls rather loudly. At dinner, I had allowed Carl to have my share of the rabbit we'd caught earlier. It was a tiny little thing. Certainly not enough to feed four people.
Carl was not particularly happy about taking my food, but I had ways of persuading him, and eventually he stopped fighting me. Rick's reaction had been the one that really surprised me. I had thought he'd be happy that his son was getting more to eat, but he also seemed concerned when I gave up my half to Carl. Even urged me to eat it. But, as I said, I won out in the end. "Won" being a lose term. I am still unbelievably hungry and if my stomach keeps growling this loudly, I'm positive I'll wake faint glow of Rick and Michonne's small fire disappears, completely casting us into darkness. Even the moon doesn't offer us its light, being hidden behind clouds. I settle back into my seat, preparing to go to sleep... but that is rudely interrupted by the sound of voices outside.
Whoever it is, is speaking loud enough for me to hear every word.
"Oh deary me," a new, alien voice says from just beyond the cracked window pane. That is the first sign something is not right. "You screwed up, asshole. You hear me? You screwed up."
The darkness is pervasive. My eyes can barely discern the number of newcomers just outside the window. By my estimates, I count five… and one of them is walking straight for us. At my prodding, Carl awakes with a jolt. Before he can even comprehend what is happening, there is a rapping on his window. A hefty, bearded thug, holding a knife to the glass, has pushed himself up against the door and is making faces at us. My pulse accelerates rapidly and I can feel Carl aimlessly pat the seat next to me until he finds, and firmly clasps, my hand.
"Today's the day of reckoning, sir." the voice from earlier continues. "Restitution! A balancing of the whole damn universe. Shit, and I was thinkin' of turnin' in for the night on New Year's Eve!" The alien voice laughs menacingly. "Now, who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh? Ten Mississippi! Nine Mississippi! Eight Mississippi!"
"Joe!" Now there's a second voice.
Instinctively, Carl snaps around to see who the voice has come from. I follow his line of sight, which leads me to a scruffy redneck emerging from beside the truck. I have never seen the man once in my life, but Carl has described him enough times for me to know exactly who he is: Daryl Dixon.
"…Hold up."
"You're stopping me at eight, Daryl." the first voice, a man named Joe apparently, announces with annoyance.
"Just… hold up." Daryl replies.
I can tell, from what little I can see, that Daryl is just as shocked to see Rick and Michonne as they are to see him. The bandits around us haven't seemed to catch on to what is going on, yet. I'm scared to find out what they'll do when they do figure it out.
"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothin' to talk about." a third voice, this from one of the ruffians with a gun, argues.
Lou? Who the fuck is Lou? We've never seen these guys before! ...Unless... Carl and I were separated from Rick for a brief time when the herd cut us off. Did it happen then, perhaps?
"The thing about nowadays is that we have nothin' but time." Joe silences him. "Say your piece, Daryl."
Maybe there's a chance.
That's what my head says. My heart tells me I'm a fool. These men are out for blood. I can't see anything Daryl says making this situation go away.
"These people," Daryl says cautiously. "You're gonna let 'em go. These are good people."
Joe isn't amused, "Now, I-I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll of course have to speak for him and all because your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."
"You want blood. I get it." I have to give Daryl points for persistence. He isn't giving up on us. I'm grateful for that. I feel Carl tense in unison with me as we helplessly watch Daryl lower his crossbow and disarm himself, spreading out his arms to show that he means no ill intent. "Take it from me, man. C'mon…"
Here, Joe hesitates… but not for very long. "This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. See, now, that right there is a lie. It's a lie!"
Shadows move. I don't even see where the first strike on Daryl comes from. I simply see the redneck jolt, as if impacted, and hear Rick's cry. Again, my heart rate increases. Again, Carl's fingers tighten around my palm. Daryl's assailant is joined by others and soon the redneck is being wailed on from all directions at once, even as he is dragged towards the side of the road.
"Teach him, fellas." Joe cheers. "Teach him all the way!"
My heart sinks into the pits of my stomach when a screeching next to me gives away that the door beside Carl has been ripped open. I feel a strong grip seize Carl, ripping him out of my grasp, to my horror, and out of the backseat of the truck.
"Carl!" an animalistic cry escapes my throat.
Immediately, my body shifts to fight-or-flight mode as I barrel out the door after him. I get no fewer than a few bounds out of the truck before I'm struck hard by another thug, who proceeds to tackle me to the ground. I'm not an easy victim. I fight, lashing out at my attacker with as strong a kick as I can muster. This only earns me a boot to my face and a shriek from Carl, who sees me get hit.
"You leave them be!" Rick snarls from somewhere off to my side.
Hot blood trickles down my nose. Through blurred vision, I am able to see Carl over to my right, being held by the hog of a man - a knife to his throat. Tears stain Carl's eyes. He's scared. I can feel it. My chest constricts with the weight of the fear that I can see painted across his face. Somehow, it is enough to block out the pain in my face and focus on my true objective: I have to save Carl, no matter the cost.
He needs me…!
Rick is in the midst of begging them to let us go: "It was me!" he insists. "It was just me!"
"See, now, that's right!" Joe taunts him. "That's not some damn lie. Look, we can settle this! We're reasonable men. First, we're gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy. And then his friend. Then I'm gonna shoot you and then we'll be square!"
NO!
Panic rises in my chest. I turn frantically to bring Carl back in to frame, but the large man has already shoved Carl to the ground. Adrenaline begins to surge through me as I propel myself forward, clawing at the leaf-covered earth towards my imperiled boyfriend. On the ground now, Carl sees me attempting to get to him and mimics me, clawing his finger through the dirt to assist him in crawling towards me. Neither of our assailants are having it. Again a boot collides with my skull, pushing my head firmly into the mud. From here, I am only barely able to see Carl's attacker climb on top of him.
No…! He can't…!
I don't even hear Rick anymore. My assailant finds that I am much too troublesome when Carl is in danger. Despite the boot in my face, I am frantically scrambling to get free: kicking, flailing, and clawing at anything and everything within my reach to get to him. This forces the man to drop down on top of me, flipping me on my back in the process. I use the opportunity to take a swing at him, but the angle he has me at causes me to miss. That earns me a fist to the face.
"Tanner!" I hear Carl cry out behind me. Whether he is crying for me to help him, or because he can see me get hit, I cannot tell. I can't see him from my new position.
"Let him go!" when my voice again finds me, it is garbled by the blood in my throat. The man atop me isn't having it with my defiance and unleashes another blow to my face. I nearly black out from that one.
Behind me, I hear Carl squirming to get free against the leaves. This doesn't seem to please his own attacker much: "Quit your squirmin'!" the fat man hisses at him.
You can't have him! I won't let you!
Just as I'm about to renew my attempt for freedom, a gunshot rings out from the direction that Rick is in. That provides me with the distraction I needed to notice my assailant's knife, which has fallen into the leaves as a result of the struggle. It is just within my reach and he doesn't seem to notice it missing just yet. The sounds of what I can only assume to be Rick and Michonne fighting back, accented by a second gunshot, reinvigorates me. The man atop me attempts to get in another shot: no doubt hoping to knock me out with this one.
I am expecting it this time, though, and move my head just in time for his fist to connect harmlessly with the mud. That also moves me close enough to snatch the handle of the knife up out of the mud. Finally in a position I can see, I notice Carl's assailant has flipped him onto his stomach and is preparing to do the horrible act. My mind races with a thousand possibilities. If I don't get to him now, Carl is in some real trouble.
Once again, Rick interrupts. I don't see the initial bite, though it is fairly easy to assume what he's done from the gore hanging from his mouth and beard. Everyone stops. Everyone is shocked. Our attackers go cold when they see Rick's brutality on display, and when he spits out the flesh he has bitten out of Joe's throat, their morale collapses just like that. That is all the opportunity I need. Clenching the hilt of the knife tightly in my hand, I summon all of my strength to push myself forward, slamming the knife into my attacker's chest. Finally free, I push myself up even more, jabbing again into the man's skull before throwing his corpse off of me.
Michonne frees herself at the same time, turning her assailant's gun back on him. Carl's attacker seems to realize how fucked he is when Michonne appears at my side, gun in hand. Seizing Carl up by his hoodie, the hog of a man holds my frightened boyfriend again at knifepoint.
"I'll kill him!" the now terrified bandit warns. "I'll kill him!"
Blood drips from my knife like saliva from a hungry hound. It yearns for Carl's attacker's blood. "Let. Him.Go." I snarl.
The panic in Carl's eyes awakens something within the darkness of my consciousness. My desire to save him becomes a need. A primal rage is brewing within me, demanding I proceed forward, claim my boyfriend from his attacker, and then savagely carve up the fat man's corpse for daring to defile him. Unfortunately for me, Rick gets that pleasure, seemingly materializing out of thin air to murder Carl's attacker.
"He's mine." Rick growls: I recognize the words. I used the same in a similar situation we faced earlier this month. I don't think he is echoing that, though. No, he genuinely means it.
In fear of the alpha male now stalking towards him, the pig releases Carl from his grip, finally allowing the younger Grimes to escape and run for us. For an instant, my bloodlust dissipates as I take off running towards Carl. Michonne gets to him first, but that doesn't stop me from reaching him next. Michonne sweeps him up in an embrace, as if to ensure herself that he is okay. He then immediately jumps from her arms to mine. I hold Carl tighter, in that moment, than I have ever held him, or anyone else, ever before. He's trembling, not that I can blame him, which makes me tighten my hold on him, hoping it will offer him some measure of comfort.
You're safe. I'll protect you.
The first sickening stab Rick delivers to the man brings our eyes back to the action. I watch, with cruel satisfaction, as Rick takes his time plowing the knife in and out of the man a gruesome perversion of what the man was attempting to do to his son. All the while, I hold Carl tightly to me, waiting for it all to finally be over.
I won't let anyone hurt you like this again. I say to him within the realm of my mind. Next time, I'll protect you.
####
I don't sleep that night.
Neither does Michonne. Carl, on the other hand, does. Michonne has taken my spot in the truck, allowing Carl to sleep on her lap. I have squeezed myself into the floorboard of the vehicle, right beside them, my head resting against Carl's chest. I watch him sleep in a daze. It's been hours since the attack ended, but it only feels like it's been mere minutes. The events keep playing themselves over and over in my mind. Twice now this has happened. Three if you count the marauders in the basement of the funeral home. What is it going to take? For me to be strong enough to protect him. The image of Rick, after he finished mutilating the bandit's body, is ironed into my mind. I've never seen so much blood on a man's face. It was truly terrifying. Even in the previous incidents, I have never seen Rick look that depraved.
Outside I can hear Rick and Daryl talking.
Frankly, I don't care what they are talking about, so I don't listen in. My attention returns completely to Carl, whose eyes have flickered open. I glance up at Michonne who offers me the closest thing to a smile that she can muster. Carl looks up at her first, then me. None of us say anything. If I'm honest, I don't think there is anything for any of us to say. But when his eyes meet mine, I can't help but tearing up. My hand comes up from my lap and rests itself gently against the side of his head, where I push his hair out of his eyes slightly, and then resume just holding his cheek. One tear spills out of the duct and down my cheek. He keeps his eyes on me, but other than that, I can't tell what he's thinking.
Sometime later, we're back on the tracks.
It's the first time I've seen Daryl Dixon in the sunlight. I'm walking quietly beside Carl, hands in my pockets, and Daryl is just a few feet in front of us. He looks drastically different from the way I envisioned him. Carl made him out to seem like some sort of superhero. In reality, he looks just like your average redneck. The same kind I'm used to seeing from my days living in small town Texas. He hasn't said a word to me, so I assume Rick or Michonne has filled him in on my status with the group. In a way, my first meeting with Daryl is much more underwhelming than I imagined it would be, but regardless of that, I can already tell that I like him. Carl once told me that you either like or you don't like Daryl Dixon. There is no gray area. Fortunately, I'd never have to worry about that. Because after the way he offered himself for our lives last night, even despite what ended up happening, I know he is a good guy and that is all that matters to me.
Up ahead, I can hear Rick and Michonne silently talking to each other. I take the opportunity to talk to Carl.
"You alright?" I ask, surprised at just how dreadful my voice sounds today.
He looks up at me, his eyes lacking that sparkle that are usually in them. In fact, they're lifeless. Devoid of feelings. A look I haven't seen since the neighborhood when I first met him.
He nods his head, "Yeah. I'm alright. You?"
I reach my hand out for his. He looks at it for a moment and then reaches out and takes it into his own.
"You're safe... so yeah, I'm just fine." I reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
To the side of us, there is another sign for Terminus laying on the ground. Rick approaches it and kicks some of the excess leaves off of it.
"We're getting close." Daryl notes. "We'll be there by sundown."
"Now we go through the woods." Rick says, nodding. "We don't know who the hell they are."
We all silently agree and the five of us begin to make our way through the woods, getting off the railroads once again. As it turns out, we were there much earlier than sundown. As the trees begin to thin, I notice a large gate, complete with several spike traps outside of it, rising in the distance. We collectively speed up to reach the gates. Upon peering through, I lay my eyes upon Terminus for the first time. It's a fairly large complex, railroads converging from all directions at its center. Closest to us is a large building complex, with the word "TERMINUS" sprawled out across several window panes. Something about it isn't right though, to me at least. For a safe haven, it sure seems empty. Too empty, in fact. On that thought, Rick turns around to face us.
"We split up, watch for a while, see what we see, and get ready." he announces. "Stay close."
We begin to split up, Daryl hanging back close to Rick, while I walk off after Michonne.
"You want to stick with me?" I hear Rick ask Carl.
"It's alright." he replies, and then he's back at my side.
The three of us fan out through the woods, staying fairly close to each other. At first we say nothing, but I'm quickly growing tired with this stale silence that has been filling the void since last night. I decide to speak up.
"Why didn't you go with your dad?" I ask Carl finally.
He says nothing, only offering an indifferent shrug. Well, that's not good enough for me.
I sigh, but before I can get another word in, Michonne cuts me off.
"Do you remember when I told you about Andre?" she says, confusing me in the process, while Carl simply nods. "You never asked how he died."
Now I'm thoroughly confused.
I've never heard the name Andre, so this must have been something Michonne told Carl during one of the times we had split up to do runs in the past. There had been a few here and there. Nevertheless, I continue to listen.
"I knew why." Carl replies.
"Yes, but the how is important." Michonne says.
We stop moving and I lean up against a tree to listen to her tale.
"We went to a refugee camp, with Mike, my boyfriend and Andre's father, and Terry our friend. But things started getting bad. People were leaving, giving up. But not me. I was coming back from a run... I saw the fences down... heard the moans. It was over." by this point, Michonne is visibly in tears, marking the first time I've ever seen her cry. "Mike and Terry were high... Both of them were bit. I could've stopped it. But I let them turn. I cut off their arms so they couldn't scratch. Put chains around their necks. It was insane. Sick. It felt like what I deserved. Dragging them around so that I'd always know. I found out that they kept me safe. They hid me. The walkers could no longer see me. I was just another monster. And that was... me. I was gone for a long time." Suddenly, Michonne began to smile, despite her tears. "But then Andrea brought me back. Your dad brought me back. You did."
The revelations kept hitting me one after another. Michonne was a mother? I suppose it made sense. A lot of sense. I knew about her walkers, but... not this particular bit about them.
"I see how you've been looking at your dad." she continues. "You don't have to be afraid of me... or him."
I shake my head clear and decide to use the pause to speak up myself.
"When we found each other in that neighborhood," I say, drawing both of their attentions. "I was gone myself. Lost my camp. My family. All my friends. I was in a foreign state, rather than home where I belonged. The sword I carry? I told you I carried it in the hopes of finding someone I could protect with it. That was only partially true. Back then... I thought Nat was dead. I blamed myself for my camp's demise. Still do to this day. I carried those swords as a reminder of my failure. Of the innocent blood that was on my hands, even as I continued to spill blood to survive. Then I met you. You taught me how to love someone unconditionally, when I thought the well of love in my heart had long since run dry. And then there was Michonne. The friend when I needed one most. And your dad has been more a father to me than mine ever was. And suddenly, I could feel again. I came back. Because of you."
I see Michonne smile out of the corner of my eye. Carl's expression has drastically softened, the flame in his eyes that have been missing since last night starting to ignite again, and he continues to study me without saying anything.
"We get to come back." I continue. "From everything we've done."
Carl's facade finally collapses and he opens his own mouth to speak.
"He told me the other day that he was proud of me..." he says. "That I was a good man. But I'm not. I know more now about what he wanted for me. And I tried, but I still have these thoughts... I'm not what he thinks I am." Then looking at me, he says: "I'm not who you think I am. I'm just another monster too."
Michonne and I move in unison, each wrapping part of ourselves around him, in what must be the first group hug I've ever been a part of. And suddenly, everything just feels right. This entire past month, all I've felt is dread and fear. If not about losing Carl, or the group, then about the family whose fate I still don't know. To me, they're dead. I'll never see them again. We're half the country apart from each other. An army of undead between me and them. And for the longest time, I envied Carl. He still has a parent and even though he's lost his sister and mother, he was at least with them after The Turn. He at least knows what happened to them. But me? I'd never know that feeling. Have that peace of mind, if that's what you could even call it. Not until, that is, right now. Because it doesn't matter what happened to them. It's something I can never change. An event beyond my mere mortal control. But right here, right now, I'm holding on to my family. My family. Carl. Michonne. Rick, though he's not here at the moment. And even though I don't know him yet, Daryl too. We're one hell of a group of misfits, but we're family.
And that prompts my response to Carl.
"You're the man I love." I whisper to him, kissing his forehead delicately. Lovingly. "That's who you are to me. And that's all that matters."
####
Half an hour passes and once more we're a group of five.
Rick leads us over a nearby fence, dropping us right into the back area of Terminus. Daryl is second to clear the fence, then me, then Carl, and finally Michonne. We're close to one of the railroads leading out of the complex. It's eerily quiet here. As I've said, it just seems too desolate to be a refugee camp, and yet, as devoid as it seems of humans, it seems even more devoid of walkers. That just doesn't seem possible to me. But we're not taking any risks. All five of us prepare our weapons and begin to advance into the complex as a unit. Daryl leads us into one of the backmost buildings and we all quickly file in. Immediately, I can hear a voice speaking, echoing through the halls.
"Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive, survive. Terminus. Sanctuary for all. Community for a-"
"Hello." Rick interrupts the woman speaking as we push our way into the room.
The people assembled there, all five of them, seem visibly surprised to see us. That is, until one, a thin man making what looks to be the signs we saw on the tracks, sighs in palpable anger.
"Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch." the man huffs. "You hear to rob us?"
"No." Rick replies. "We wanted to see you before you saw us."
"Makes sense." the man replies, stepping forward. "Usually we do this where the tracks meet. Welcome to Terminus! I'm Gareth. Looks like you all have been on the road for a good bit."
"We have." Rick answers plainly. "I'm Rick. That's Carl, Tanner, Daryl, and Michonne."
Gareth gives us a rather half-hearted wave.
"You're nervous, I get it! We were all the same way." he says, stepping closer. "We came here for sanctuary. That what you're here for?"
"Yes." Rick says.
"Excellent," Gareth replies, motioning for one of the men behind him. "This is not nearly as pretty as the front. Now, we have nothing to hide, but the welcoming wagon is much better. Alex will take you, ask you a few questions, but first... we need to see everyone's weapons."
Red flag number one.
I don't like that. I mean, I can understand why they'd want to see our weapons, but as I've said before, I haven't been with people outside of my group in a very long time. To say that I'm distrustful would be a gross understatement. Nevertheless, as long as they don't have us surrender them, I suppose I will comply. And so, along with Rick, Carl, Michonne, and Daryl I remove my weapons - namely my sword, gun, and knife - and lay them carefully at my feet. Gareth then instructs us to spread our arms and legs and before long, each of us is being patted down. It was an awkward experience to say the least, but each of us manages to pass the test. When Alex reaches Daryl, he immediately notices the wound on the redneck's eye, from the scuffle with Joe and his men last night.
"I'd hate to see the other guy." he notes half in jest.
"You would." Rick interjects.
"They deserve it?" Alex asks as he pats Carl down.
"Yes." Carl replies.
"Make that a hell yes." I add, venom in my voice as I recall the fat fuck that put his hands on Carl. It was still boiling my blood.
"Just so you know, we're not those kind of people." Gareth explains. "But we're not stupid either. We hope you're not stupid enough to try anything stupid."
Once their done, Alex comes around and hands us all back our weapons. That is, except for Daryl, who quickly snatches up his crossbow before Alex even lays a finger on it. With that, Alex leads us out of the building and into the front Terminus complex. The place is... nice. Too nice, but then again, I haven't been in a refugee camp for over a year and a half now. In fact, the scene couldn't be more picturesque. Birds chirping, the sun setting in the distance, flowers blooming in the multiple gardens spread across the main complex. It appears I'm not the only one that is slight suspicious about the layout of the place because Carl, Rick, and Michonne are carefully observing our surroundings as well.
"How long's this place been here?" Daryl asks in the meantime.
"Oh, since about the beginning." Alex replies.
We round the corner of come buildings and come to an outdoor picnic area. In the center, a woman with long red hair is cooking on a large grill. Elsewhere, on the benches surrounding us, are the first survivors other than the welcoming crew I've seen here. And even then there is a scarce amount of them. All of their eyes are on us. The woman, whom Alex calls "Mary", greets us and continues with her cooking. Just as I'm starting to relax at the feel of this place, I notice the expression on Rick's face. He is looking at something. Something on Alex. And the look he's making tells me that something is very wrong. But what? Glancing at Alex, I can't see anything alarming about him. Nevertheless, I raise my guard again. I suppose it's good to be ready. Just in case.
"Hey Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a plate for me?" Alex is saying.
"Why do you do it?" Michonne asks him suddenly. "Why do you let people in?"
"When people become a part of us, we get stronger." Alex replies.
Red flag number two.
It's subtle, but the way he says that sends a creepy chill down my spine. I just can't put my finger on why, though. Alex reaches for two plates that Mary is handing him and he begins to hand them to us. Carl takes one, then me, and then Michonne. Cooked meat. I can already feel myself salivating. I glance at Carl, who grins at me for the first time today. Hunger has overtaken his cold demeanor and it seems that, at least for the moment, it's brought him back. But that is quickly shoved aside when Rick violently seizes Alex and points his gun at his head. The rest of us immediately have the same reaction. My sword comes out in one hand, my gun in the other. Carl, Michonne, and Daryl have raised their weapons as well. Of course, the same reaction happens on the other side. The "survivors" that have been watching us have all drawn their weapons and are watching carefully.
"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick demands.
I glance back to see what the hell Rick is talking about. He has, in his hands, a golden pocket watch. But aside from that, I'm completely unclear as to why it's important, so I return my gaze to the other survivors, keeping myself ready to move at any moment.
"You want answers?!" Alex shouts frightfully. "You want anything else? You get 'em when you put down the gun."
"I see your man on the roof with the sniper rifle. How good's his aim?" Rick continues to goad him.
My gaze slips upward towards the roof where Rick indicated. Sure enough, there is a man on the roof, holding a sniper rifle. Instinctively, my left hand, holding my gun, goes upwards, lining up with him. Carl, Daryl, and Michonne have the ground pretty well covered, so I'll take the guy on the roof. I'll never know how we keep getting ourselves into these situations, but I know Rick has a good reason for doing what he's doing. I trust him. And this time, I'm not going to fail to protect Carl.
"Now where'd you get the watch?!" Rick screams in Alex's ear.
"I got it off a dead one!" Alex exclaims, voice shaky. "I didn't think he needed it anymore."
"What about the riot gear? The poncho?" Rick questions, gesturing towards the survivors wearing said objects.
"Got the riot gear off a dead cop. Found the poncho on a clothes line." Gareth suddenly appears from our side, arms up in surrender.
"Gareth, we can wait!" Alex says cryptically.
"Shut up, Alex."
"You talk to me!" Rick barks.
"What's there left to say? You don't trust us anymore." Gareth replies, folding his arms in front of him.
He's awfully calm given the situation.
"Rick, what do you want?" Gareth presses.
"Where are our people?"
And then it all clicks into place. The watch. The riot gear. The poncho. They must belong to Glenn and Maggie, the only other two we knew for sure was heading this direction. Rick must have seen them on the survivors and put two and two together. I tighten my grip on my weapons. Finally, a chance to make good on my promise to Carl. I'll help him rescue his friends. At all cost.
"You didn't answer the question." Gareth says.
And then there is gunfire. Rick wheels around just in time to use Alex as a human body shield to deflect the bullets at his person. With gunfire breaking out, we break into motion. Rick yells at Carl to get down, so I spring into action, grabbing Carl by the wrist and pull him along behind me towards the side buildings. Michonne is just in front of us, Daryl to our side. Bullets ricochet off the ground by my feet, but miraculously, I avoid contact. Seems the others are having just as good of luck. We burst into the building we initially came from, but, in true horror movie fashion, the door lowers until it is completely shut, cutting us off. Not one's to be deterred, we burst through a black door marked "A" and into an adjacent courtyard where the gunfire resumes. Again, it only strikes around our feet, leading me to believe that either the Terminus gunmen were the worst shots in Georgia, or this was deliberate. We pass several chain lengths fences and some large red crates.
And that's when the true horror begins.
Banging can be heard on the inside of the crates along with screams for help. But there is no time to process what may be happening as we continue to run for cover. We push our way into another room, where the imagery continues its horrifying descent into darkness. A room full of candles, arranged in what I can only describe as a satanic circle. Names are inscribed all over the floor and walls.
"The fuck is this?" I exclaim, looking it over.
"Whoever they are," Michonne replies. "I don't think they're trying to kill us."
"No," Rick interjects. "They're aiming at our feet."
So he's noticed it too.
Rick spots another door marked "A" and we proceed to crash through it into a third courtyard. As it turns out, that ends up being the end of the line. We're surrounded on either side. Gunmen on the roof, by the fences, behind us. There is absolutely no way for us to run anymore, bringing our five-man group to a screeching halt.
"Drop your weapons!" Gareth's voice rings out. "Now!"
Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any choice. And so, after some initial hesitation, I and the others begin to lower our weapons, dropping them to the ground at our feet. It dawns on me, as it has many times before, that this could be it. We'd be shot and killed right here after having finally reaching Terminus after a month long journey. I look at Carl, who glances back understandingly at me. He feels it too, I can tell.
"Ringleader!" Gareth commands to Rick. "Go to your left, the train car."
Rick hesitates, his eyes on Carl.
"You do what we say, the boy goes with you. If you don't, he dies, and you wind up in there anyways." Gareth threatens.
My blood freezes and suddenly my eyes are on Rick, imploring him to go towards the car. Slowly, he finally relents and makes the agonizing journey across the courtyard until he's standing in front of a small makeshift set of stairs leading into the train car.
"Next, the archer." Gareth commands.
Daryl flashes the Terminus leader a wary glance before leaving his bow behind and following Rick's footsteps to the train car.
"Next, the dual wielder."
That's me.
I give Carl a longing look, then one to Michonne, and have to outright force my legs to move. But that doesn't stop me from looking back at Carl the whole way until I'm behind Daryl by the train car.
"Now the samurai."
Michonne joins us, leaving Carl completely exposed in the courtyard. Its agonizing, the wait. All I can do is look on in worry, praying to God they don't open fire and kill Carl right there. His gaze meets mine and I hold his. I can feel my breath catch. And I won't breathe another until he's safely with me again.
"Stand at the door: Ringleader, archer, dual wielder, samurai: in that order." Gareth barks at us.
We're already in that order, but we straighten our line, all four of us with our eyes trained on Carl the entire time.
"My son!" Rick demands.
Please... I pray silently.
"Go, kid." Gareth relents and then Carl is running to us. "Ringleader, open the door and go in!"
"I'll go when he's here!" Rick argues.
"Don't make us kill him now." Gareth retorts.
"Rick..." I hiss, urging him forward.
Rick regards me, then Carl, and then reluctantly climbs up, pushing the red train car door open. He enters, then Daryl, then me, and finally Michonne. It's only a few seconds, but Carl seems to take forever to finally clamber into the hot, dark chamber. As soon as I lay eyes on him, I lunge forward, pulling him into my embrace. I let out a single heave of relief, feeling several tears fall free of their ducts. He's quick to return my hug and I hold onto him tightly. Very tightly. Twice in the span of two days, I've come within a hair's width of losing him, so I wasn't letting go anytime soon. The door is slid shut behind us and I hear a lock snap into place. Movement from the other corner of the crate catches us all by surprise and we turn to see who our visitors are. A petite Asian man steps out of the shadows into the middle of the train car. Then a woman.
"Rick?!"
"You're here..." Rick states.
And it suddenly hits me. Its Glenn and Maggie. I've never seen them before, but I'm smart enough to put two and two together. Now and African American man and woman step forward. Two other women, a chubby man with a mullet, and a large muscular man with red hair join them soon after.
"They're our friends." Maggie says, referring to the group behind her. "They helped save us."
"Yeah," Daryl says with what I think is a grin on his face. "Now they're friends of ours."
Glenn's eyes fall on me, who am, myself, still clinging to Carl.
"This is a friend of mine." Carl declares.
Glenn nods once understandingly and I nod in return.
"For however long that'll be." the red-haired man says, heading back towards the other end of the car.
"No." Rick suddenly says, peering through the cracks in the train car. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out..."
My eyebrow goes up and I'm not the only one.
"Find out what?" the red-haired man asks, turning back towards us.
"They're fucking with the wrong people."
A/N: Holy fuck that's a long chapter. Longest I've ever written, though most of it was a recap of the episode, with a few additions here and there. Next chapter will be out in a day or so and I'll be going off in my own direction. I'll answer reviews, both previous, and to this one in that chapter. In other news, holy fuck what a Finale. Gonna miss TWD until Fall. Review, comment, follow, and favorite. Remember, if you have suggestions, feel free to PM me.
Later everyone.