Issue #28, "The Mourners"

Mike chuckled softly, only half-confused as he gazed down upon the compact clutter of people that stood together below him.

"These are all your people?" He asked, quirking one thick eyebrows as the sun heated his skin. "This is all?"

Maxine stepped down the wooden staircase of the cabin, meeting her small group in the rocky pathway. Again, she tapped her hand against her rifle—though the thought of how she'd ever use it without two arms puzzled him.

"What did you expect? An army or something?" Maxine used her only hand to tap the head of a young boy, her fingers moving through the mop of blonde locks that hung from his head. She sighed. "There were a lot more, but I lost a lot of people on the way. This here, is Leroy."

The child—Leroy—nodded slowly. "Hi."

Maxine's eyes went to a woman much shorter than her, one whose hair was cropped and black. "This is his mother Jennie. They're new, but…they have the same problem we do."

"Let me guess, my former fiancée did something to them? Stirred up a bit of trouble?"

Jennie shook her head. "Not directly Michonne, but her sister, Estelle. That girl murdered my husband with a bone." She looked down at her son. "And Leroy was held for a short time at their prison a while ago. They are not good people."

Mike released a breath. "I think everyone here is pretty clear on that, right, Jonah, Naomi, Kris and Lucie?"

The four in question sat a few feet away at a wooden bench, the bench was covered with much desired items. Rifles, ammo, revolvers, handguns and blades. They'd gotten the new good stuff from Michonne's van, the one they'd taken from her.

Naomi, the blue-haired, nodded as she smacked a magazine into its place of her rifle. "Yep. Thankfully, we were successful in taking one out, she was a little smart-mouthed bitch too. I had to kick her just to get her to shut up.

"Even then, she wouldn't stop screaming about how it hurt oh, so bad. So finally, I snagged the shoe strings from her sneakers and wrapped them around her throat so tight that she stopped fighting before she even died—that part came a few minutes later."

Kris, one of the two shorter ones, grinned. "Well, don't take all the credit, Naomi. I was the one who gave you the shoe strings."

Lucie shook her head at the both of them as Naomi laughed. "Okay, I think I win. I'm the one who heard her last words."

Mike squinted at her curiously. "And those were?"

"I think she said—" Began Lucie, only to be interrupted.

"Wait." The kid Leroy spoke up and all eyes went his way. "You killed a little girl from Michonne's group?"

Naomi nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Was her name Judith?" He asked, his eyes were innocently expectant—almost a bit fearful.

"Not sure." Naomi shrugged, gazing through the scope on her gun. "But she was a pretty little Caucasian girl, with dark hair and a mean pair of blue eyes."

"Yeah, I-I think that's her." Leroy's eyes went to his feet. "That's Judith."

Was he afraid? Relieved? No one could truly be sure.

"Perk up, kid." Mike lifted his own chin. "These people aren't worth your sympathy—that girl being a child didn't make her any different than anyone else."

Leroy didn't respond.

"Alright." Maxine sighed. "The last of my group here are Gia, Selena, Tracy, Lynette, and Esther." The remaining women who stood together in ragged clothing and experienced looks nodded to Mike.

"Good." Mike stepped down the stairs and approached the kid. "Now Leroy, let's teach you about guns."

"Wait." Leroy backed away, a distant look on his face. "I have to take a leak."

Mike laughed. "Well, nature calls. Just go around back."

Leroy smiled faintly and headed toward the cabin.

X

"He's—he's dead." Saundra appeared horrified, a single tear had escaped her right eye. She was standing in the kitchen beside Jeffrey in her pajamas, the small form of a dog lay at her feet, lifeless and gray—a brownish-red fluid pooling beneath its fur.

"This was your dog?" Michonne curved her eyebrows in confusion, looking back at Sonya and Rick.

Sonya sighed, shaking her head. "That's Kip. He was bitten and he turned—I guess someone finally did him in."

So, animals can turn.

Michonne squinted at the dead animal on the ground, trying to find some part of her that cared about this dog—and found she couldn't. All that was going through her head was the look that Rick given her in the hall a few minutes before.

She just wanted to know what he was going to tell her. What had Carl told him?

"Someone killed him." Saundra looked angry now, gritting her teeth. "Who did this?"

Jeffrey reached over to touch her shoulder. "We don't know for sure if anyone actually—"

"Someone did! He was clearly fucking stabbed!" Saundra pointed at Kip. "I noticed a knife was missing from the utensil drawer this morning, I thought nothing of it then, but—! Someone actually fucking killed my dog, Jeffrey!" Saundra suddenly jumped away from his touch. "Was it you? You hate Kip! Did you—?"

"He was already dead."

Carl stood by the door, Ginny and Skye shadowing him, looking as if they had just awoken. But Carl looked fully awake, carrying a kitchen knife, dry blood apparent on the blade.

"Carl." Michonne heard Rick say from beside her.

Carl walked over to the table, stepping over Kip and set the knife down. "I was going to go take a nap, but then I started snooping and I found his cage. I knew he had turned the second I smelled him. I had to do something."

Saundra's angry brown eyes went to Carl. "You did what? Without telling me?!"

"It wouldn't have mattered." Carl held his arms out. "Your dog was dead already. I swear, I was only trying to protect us."

Saundra's teeth were gritted tightly, and her hands curled up into angry fists. She looked so full of rage Michonne thought she'd explode.

"God!" Screamed Saundra, her tear-filled eyes meeting Rick's. "Are all of your children killers?!" With that, she forcefully bumped shoulders with Carl and pushed past Rick.

"No." Rick said low under his breath. "Just the one that wasn't really mine in the first place."

Michonne turned to Rick. "Huh?"

"Don't bring that up. Not right now." She heard Jeffrey say from behind.

Rick shook his head, and sighed, reaching up to rake his hand through his head.

"I need some air." He turned away and headed down the hall.

X

No. Thought Michonne. Not today.

She felt her heartbeat through her entire body as she hurried after him, going down the hall past the bathroom and out the front door.

She saw Rick's retreating figure as he trudged toward the woods.

Michonne stepped down the stairs and into the grass.

"Rick!" She called, her throat raw, but Rick kept walking. "Stop walking, Rick!"

He froze in place and she quickly went forward, the rocks stabbing into her feet. When she reached him she stopped walking a few feet away from him.

"Look at me." She thought she sounded even angrier than Saundra had, if it was possible.

He obeyed, reluctantly turning his head and then his body. "What? What do you want?"

"What did Carl tell you? What did he tell you that was so important it made you want to tell me?" She asked breathlessly.

Rick opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "It doesn't matter what he told me. It-it's not like I was in my right mind anyhow. I shouldn't have gone back into the trailer."

"Why not?"

"Because—it did me no good, all everyone brings up is her." He admitted, throwing his arms up. "Carl told me you were able to help me, and maybe you are…but I see now that if you and I had spoken, she's what we'd talk about and I don't want to talk about her—I want to forget."

Michonne furrowed her brows. "Rick, I wouldn't want to help you forget that Judith is gone. I would want you to accept it.

"Forgetting—yeah, it would be easier, but it's never going to happen. Judith is going to be on your mind every day. And every time you look at Carl, you will see your daughter—his sister, the one who's gone now. That's just how it is when you lose a child, Rick. It's not fair, but you'll have to learn to bear through it. That's what I did."

"Then maybe those rules don't apply to me," Rick muttered, his eyes lost in the night. "They don't have to."

Michonne bunched up her eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

He shrugged, white smoke sifting through the air. "Judith was my niece, Michonne, not my daughter."

Michonne felt the breath leave her, no words being able to be formed correctly. "W-what?"

Rick looked back at the trailer. "He's her father."

Jeffrey.

"But—then that means your wife…"

Rick rubbed at his eyes. "It was one night. She and I were in an argument, but instead of trying to work things out she…"

"I get it." Michonne folded her arms over her chest. "But you raised Judith as her father, right?"

Rick nodded reluctantly. "But that doesn't change the fact that Jeffrey's biologically her—"

"But still, you raised her, Rick." Michonne shook her head. "He's not her father, you are."

When he didn't answer, she released a breath. "You can't try to use that as an excuse, it's just you trying to find the easy way out of grieving. Judith was your daughter and you're going to feel the pain of losing her just as much as you would if you were her biological father." Michonne yawned, and covered her face. "I'm done speaking, Rick, I'm tired."

Michonne looked up and saw the almost angered expression on his face and suddenly felt rage too. "Look, I tried, okay? I know I'm not the best at giving advice and I know you're probably just going to go back into the woods to hunt down Mike and…"

She trailed off as he neared her space, walking into her but pulling his arms around her back and burying his face into her hair. She was back in his embrace again, her ear against his heart which had begun beating to the rhythm of his breathing.

"Does this mean you're not going for the latter?" Her voice was muffled.

She felt him shake his head. "No."

Her shoulders sagged with disappointment as she drew away from him, she knew it was useless but she pushed on. "Rick, come on. Be smart about this."

"He is being smart about this."

Michonne jumped, turning toward the trailer and seeing Sonya standing at the door.

"Mike had his people murder Rick's daughter, or were you too busy trying to clear your own guilt to notice?" Sonya tilted her head at Michonne, her demeanor straight-forward and heated.

Michonne was at a loss for words, but managed. "What guilt?"

"Of your own son, and of being the reason why Judith is dead. You could have just told everyone that she had killed Garrett and this would have never happened. Judith would be here right now had you just told us. Instead, you went on a run. And for what?"

"I was trying to figure out what to do and I didn't want her to be here while I did that. I wasn't sure what she was capable of." Michonne scrubbed her words from the back of her throat.

"Hold on, Sonya." Rick was watching her with disbelief. "None of this is Michonne's fault—"

"Rick, you are blinding yourself from the truth!" She shouted, heading down the stairs. "Michonne is the root of all of your problems. It's always her."

Michonne sighed, almost hurting at the words that were spewing from Sonya's mouth, she spoke as if she no longer remembered the days that they were friends. "Look, I—"

"Hello. Michonne?"

Michonne broke off, searching for the face the youthful voice belonged to.

There, standing far by the side of the trailer, was a boy. She saw that he was wearing a dark blue coat as he slowly approached the three. "You're Michonne?"

Michonne watched him as he pulled at his hoodie, freeing his curly blonde mane. "Yeah, and you are…?"

Rick, beside her, squinted. "Wait, I know you. You're—"

"Leroy." Said another familiar voice, and Michonne turned, Carl stood beside Sonya on the trailer's stairs. His voice was very deep, his tone almost scary. "It's fucking Leroy."

Before Michonne could answer him, Carl had already swiftly shoved past her, crashing into Leroy and tackling him to the ground.


72. Thanks love.