The Walking Dead: A New Day Gone Bye

CHAPTER 35 – The Living

Nobody dared to say a word. Those who dared to open their mouth at least choked on their words or were threatened by a vomit urging to come out. The only sound was Hershel's sobs as he was kneeling among the mass murders.

The barn's exterior walls had a few spoors of dark blood splattered here and there, like an unexperienced painter had been hired to paint them. The hay floor and the grass were soaked in a gooey and black substance, similar to oil. The empty dead shells known as walkers all laid down, their bodies pierced with bullet holes, their clothes torn apart and some of them with their guts and brains showing.

The smell was the worst. The gunpowder pairing in the air was reminiscent of a recently fought war and smelled like rusty metal. Within this odor there was the mix of disgusting death. The scent caused the survivors' stomachs to be engulfed in a fire, a flame that needed to be expelled, and most had to dodge away their nostrils.

Among the people that just waited for something to happen, tired, Lee was the first to act. Lee sheathed his gun and walked towards Clementine. He crouched to her height and clutched her in her arms. Carley watched him with a sad contortion. Lee returned her gaze with narrowed eyes, feeling Clementine's bawls on his shoulder.

The Greene family stood aligned, side by side, most of them leaning on each other as emotional support. Hershel had wanted to give his lost children a proper funeral, an homage to them. T-Dog, Kenny and Daryl dug three graves as fast as they could while a saddened Maggie had insisted on crafting three crosses, and even chiseling a name into each one.

Hershel, Maggie, Billy Greene, Beth, Otis, Patricia and Jimmy mourned in front of the graves. The dirt was fresh. The rest of the group maintained a certain distance, to give them the time and privacy they needed, but were still present in order to show their respects.

Hershel wiped a tear off his cheek as he looked at Rick. "You were right."

Rick didn't say anything. In his furry beard laid two curved lips. It was the anguished realization that what he had told Hershel about the danger was true. Oh, how he hated when he was right.

The smell of the dead bodies was now a plague stretching through the farm, and that was the motivation they had when they volunteered to clean up the mess. The task was simple, to haul the cadavers onto the back of a pick-up truck, then drive them into the woods and scorch them.

The Greene's weren't in any condition to do the dirty work, but those on Grimes' group were doing it. They were careful, they used gloves since they had to carry the bodies onto the truck with their bare hands. Due to the incident on the CDC, they knew for sure that the infection was spread through scratches and bites, but who was to say that the disease couldn't be transmitted if they got, for example, some of the walkers' blood on their mouth? Or exchanged fluids through an open wound?

Lee covered his nose and grunted as he selected one of the zombies. He picked a thin guy, with a moustache and a mechanic suit. He saw flies hovering above its head, and even two or three larvae crawling up its arm. Funny how insect life was prospering while mankind was slowly dying.

Lee grabbed the ankles of the same zombie. "Kenny, come give me a hand!"

Kenny obeyed, tiptoeing past the bodies and avoiding tripping on one of them. He grabbed the cadaver's wrists and with coordinated movements, they loaded it onto the rear enclosure. Kenny avoided the whiff. "Geez…"

"Not easy to look at." Lee said.

"At least we did what was necessary." Kenny commented, just as Carley and T-Dog arrived with a body. The two men stepped aside and let them throw the body to the enclosure.

"I can't believe how much you lack empathy." Lee said with a regard of disdain. "Hershel lost three of his kin."

"All I know is we're safer now, my family is safer now." Kenny said as he departed to fetch another body.

T-Dog followed after him, to help him. Lee was about to pinch his nose bride but halted when he recalled that his gloves were grimed in dead flesh and mud. Carley stayed with Lee and laid her hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" She asked. "You seemed kinda shellshocked back there."

"It's just…Clementine." Lee sighed. "She's seen one too many people dying. I'm worried this world might break her."

"I can talk to her, if you need to."

Lee shook his head. "No. I think this time I'm the one who needs to speak to her."

It's a new dawn, it's a new day.

Just before daylight appeared above the curvature of the earth, Hershel's eyes were already wide open.

He hadn't gotten any sleep that night. He drowsed off for twenty minutes here or there, but was always woken up by nightmares, flashbacks scarred onto his memory. He woke up drenched in sweat, almost looked like someone had dumped a bucket of water on him.

He had chills throughout his body. He couldn't decide if he was whether cold or warm. All he felt was this crushing uneasiness. He tossed around, tried every position possible to sleep, lowered his blankets to his knee height, lifted his blankets to his chin height, but he was always uncomfortable.

It seemed like an anvil trampled on his chest. His torso felt compressed, his breathing was heavy and a latent pain sawed his heart. At one point, it seemed like he was haunted. His ears were so attentive and tuned that he could hear the sound of his own organs functioning. He flinched at every sound of a plank creaking or a wind that blew by. He could even swear he heard voices in that profound silence.

Hershel sat in the bed in his room. He scratched his head and wiped his forehead. His heart was split in half by an invisible dagger. He needed refuge. He needed something that would end that excruciating pain!

He got up. Of course, he thought. He headed towards the chest of drawers and opened the first one. He rummaged through his clothes until he found a small flask, half-full of whisky. Darn. This isn't enough to get drunk of my arse.

He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he could avoid it. He slid the flask onto his pocket, before he waltzed out the door. His destination, the horse stables.

Rick yawned and sat on the bed, stretching his arms out. The bright daylight had woken him up, but it was a nice wake-up. Before the apocalypse, every wake-up was torture, but in those conditions, with no ruts or restrictions, it was a pleasuring thing.

Rick saw Lori sit on the side of the bed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Morning, hon'. You sleep okay? I gotta say, this bed is really doing wonders for me. Even with the three of us squeezing into it, I'm sleeping better than I—uh, are you okay?"

"No." Lori said, her eyes tearful and bobbing out. "It's morning sickness. It's coming full force at me today, and I don't-"

In a sudden movement, Lori leaped onto her feet and dashed towards the bathroom, vanishing inside. Rick could hear the nauseating sounds of her vomiting. He chuckled, it was the joy of parenting repeating itself again.

"Mom throwing up again?" Carl asked, still in a sleeping position with his eyes closed. ~

"Yep."

"Oh."

Rick looked to his side, where was situated a window. He had a plain sight of the entire farm, and he could see that the residents were also waking up. Katjaa was making breakfast on a camping stove, while others chatted or stretched their legs.

Rick got up as he heard a knock on the door. He slid out of the sheets and opened the door. He'd forgotten about the fact that he was in his underpants, but he was unsure if anybody cared anymore. Glenn was standing outside, barefoot, straggling to dress his t-shirt.

"Dammit, Glenn, what's got you so worked up?"

Glenn managed to slither his head through the upper hole on his t-shirt. "Dude, it's Hershel!"

"What?"

"Maggie woke me up and told me Hershel isn't in the farm! She checked his bedroom and the whole farm, but we can't find him and nobody's seen him!"

"Shit! Where the hell could he go?!"

"Maggie said he used to have a drinking habit, but he quit. She says maybe he went down to the local bar because of, uh…Arnold and Lacey."

"Look, I'll go with you." Rick said. "Gimme a minute to dress up. Go find Lee and tell him to meet us by the RV."

Glenn nodded and departed as Rick shut the door. Lori came out of the bathroom. "What did Glenn want?"

"It's Hershel." Rick sputtered as he dressed his pants in a hurry and then checked the drum on his revolver. "He's missing and I gotta go help find him."

Lori was opening her mouth to speak but Rick stamped her a kiss on her lips before she could talk. "I know, don't worry, I'll be back. I always do."

He hurried to the bed and kissed his son on the temple. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Be safe." Carl said with a drowsy voice.

Rick, Lee and Glenn stood in front of a pick-up Maggie had given them the blessing to use in their search. It was the same that was used to transport the corpses, so the smell was still present. The bodies had been dumped in the forest the day before, and today they were gonna burn them.

Glenn loaded the shotgun with a few shells, but he didn't have enough for a full reload. He'd only fire a shotgun a few select times and wasn't a master of it, most of the time the recoil caused his shots to be off-target. But he needed to be armed.

"Thank you so much for doing this." Maggie said. "I'm worried sick about my dad."

"We'll get him back. I promise." Rick assured.

Carley smothered Lee in her arms and kissed him on the cheek. "Be back in one piece, okay?"

"Of course. Don't worry about me." Lee asserted.

Maggie hugged Glenn before Glenn headed towards the passenger seat. Lee and Carley detached from their embrace as Rick slithered onto the driving seat. Lee climbed onto the enclosure, shut the rear door, and sat as the truck roared to life and drove away.

"Dale, you in here?" Andrea asked, entering the RV.

Dale was sitting in the seating in front of the table. "Yeah. I just wanted to clean up a little. Remember when this was our place, before everyone else started sleeping in here? That was nice. I don't think I'm ever going to get the smell out of it. I think it's seeped into the walls. This place is a wreck. Erma would be in a fit if she saw this."

Andrea cleared her throat and faked a cough. Dale frowned as he acknowledged his mistake. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like when I mention her."

"No. She was your wife. I understand. It's just that it reminds me that she's always in your mind, and I-"

Dale got up, cutting her off mid-sentence. Dale wrapped his arms around her. "Don't think about it that way, Andrea. I was married to Erma for nearly forty years. You can't just be jealous of my memories."

"I know, Dale…I know."

Dale caressed her cheek. "I love you Andrea, I really do. I swear."

Rick switched the vehicle off when he spotted the bar. He parked the truck on the side of the road, while the three men inspected the buildings surrounding them. The small town was like any other, deserted, most houses and stores boarded up from the inside. Graffiti adorned the walls, but due to the town being so small, car wrecks were rare. The roads were clear.

The bar had a sign hanging high above the front façade. It had the image of a cowboy brandishing a knotted rope while riding a bull and titled the establishment as 'Hatlin's Bar.' The construction had been renewed not long ago, but the wooden structure reminded them of old bars were shootouts took place, back in the era of the Old Wild West.

Rick, Glenn and Lee hopped out of the vehicle, creeping up to the front doors. They were broad doors and had a glass window that wasn't transparent. Rick opened the door with his shoulder and Lee and Glenn entered with their guns brandished, scoping out the edifice for any walkers. No threats. But right as rain, Hershel was sitting in a stool in front of the counter, a glass of whisky in his hands. The three men lowered their weapons and Glenn shut the door.

The bar's interior matched the outside. The Western-theme was everywhere. The walls decorated with flags, replicas of peacemakers, rifles and photos of endeared members and staff. The tables and chairs had an obsolete aspect. A counter and rows of stools spanned across the northern and eastern walls. The shelves behind the counter was full of bottles that had an impressive variety.

"Hershel." Rick clept.

"Who's with you?" The old man asked with his bulky voice.

"Lee. Glenn."

Rick walked up to Hershel and leaned on the counter beside him. "How many have you had?"

"Not enough."

"Let's finish this up back at home. Your family needs you."

"No. My boys…what they needed was their mother. But she's been gone for a long while now. Shawn…when he died, I told them a lie instead of letting them mourn like they should've. I robbed them of that. I see that now."

"You thought there was a cure. Can't blame yourself for holding out hope." Lee said.

"Hope?" Hershel chuckled like it was a joke, while toying with his glass as the turned his silver expression towards Rick. "When I first saw you run across my field with your boy in your arms, I had little hope he'd survive."

"But he did."

"He did. That was the miracle that proved to me that miracles do exist. Only it was a sham, bait and switch."

Hershel refilled his glass. Rick walked up to Lee and Glenn, the three of them forming a circle. "So what do we do? Just wait for him to pass out?"

"Just go!" Hershel shouted. "Just go!"

Rick returned to Hershel. "We promised Maggie to bring you home safe. What's your plan? Finish that bottle? Drink yourself to death and leave your boys alone?"

Hershel got up in a sudden move and advanced towards Rick. "Stop telling me how to care for my family, my farm. All I ask is to be left alone! Go back! Go back to safety. You're their leader, aren't you?!"

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Rick asked. The two men were now extremely close to each other, staring into each other's glares.

Hershel stayed silent as he returned to his stool. "Yes. Yes. Yes you are."

Rick grabbed his shoulder. "Now c'mon. Those girls need you now more than ever."

Hershel swayed his arm back to avoid Rick's hand. "I didn't want to believe you. You told me there was no cure. You told me these people were dead, not sick. I chose not to believe that. When I saw Shawn kill Arnold, with no memory that they were brothers, I realized what an ass I'd been! That I was feeding a rotten corpse! That's when I knew there was no hope. Right? There is no hope. And I think you all know it too."

Lee stepped forward. "No. There is always hope. Always. It's our own choice to let it die or not. I'm still hopeful, even with all the shit we've been through. I still believe we'll find a safe place, that we'll be able to create a new world, even in all this mess."

"You don't understand, Lee. There is no hope. For any of us."

"Look, I'm not doing this anymore." Rick said. "Know what the truth is? Nothing's changed. Death is death. It's always been there. Whether it's from a heart attack, cancer, or a walker. What's the difference? You didn't think it was hopeless before, did you? Now there are people back at home trying to hang on, they need us. Even if it's just to give them a reason to go on. Even if we don't believe it ourselves. You—you know what? This isn't about what we believe in anymore. It's about them."

Hershel was silent. His hollowed eyes showed that he was beginning to see it. Seeing everything in a new light. Those words got to him and he finally saw reason. He raised his empty glass, and banged it on the table. Rick smirked. "Good."

Suddenly, the door opened with a creak. The four people sprang around towards the door, only to see two men standing there with guns slinging from their backs.

"Son of a bitch." The man on the right said. "They're alive."

Lee, Rick and Glenn readied their guns but didn't point them at the two strangers. The guy on the right simpered as he heard all of those guns cocking. "Whoa, chill! We don't mean no harm."

"Yeah. We've heard that one too many times now." Lee said.

"Hey, if we wanted to blast on you, don't you think we would've been more discreet instead of waltzing through the front door?"

Lee and Rick exchanged a look. The man walked to one of the tables and sat down on a chair. The man on the left sat in one of the stools, a bit far away from Hershel. He grabbed a dusty cup, blew away the dust and then looked towards them. "This bar belong to you?"

The three men began to lower their guns a little bit. "No." Rick said. "We're just passing by."

"Well, see, me and my friend over there are kinda wanting to get wasted. Mind passing me that bottle over there?"

The man jabbed his finger towards a vodka bottle on the shelves. Glenn grabbed it and gave it to the man. The man unscrewed the lid and poured himself a full glass. "I'm Dave. That scrawny-looking douchebag over there is Tony."

It was obviously a sarcastic comment, since Tony was quite obese. "Eat me, Dave."

"Hey, maybe someday I will." Dave joked, drinking from his cup. "You guys want some?"

Everyone shook their heads. "Hey, your loss."

Something about these two strangers showed that they weren't locals. It was probably their heavy accent, which was typical amongst southern folk. It was bizarre to have such a calm encounter with some random strangers. Lee wished that people could just get along like that. But he still was wary of those two men.

Dave had short, black hair and a beard that sprouted in his cheeks and around his mouth. In his manner of walking and speaking, he appeared to always be sure of himself. Rick couldn't tell if he was confident or arrogant. He was always grinning and snickering, causing his face to wrinkle. He was doing something to establish his presence, whether it was tapping his foot silently out of a nervous tick or snorting. Dave could be considered a smartass, always having an intelligent quip on the tip of his tongue.

Tony on the other hand, had the appearance of a mobster. He was obese, having to walk very slowly. His curly, sweaty hair was hidden by a green beret and had a thick beard camouflaging his thick lips. A shotgun was hanging from his back. He wore gold chains around his neck and a golden Rolex on his wrist, but his apathetic and careless figure made Lee conjecture that he had gotten those from a looted store instead of buying them out of his own money before the apocalypse.

"We met on I-95 coming outta Philly." Dave explained. "Damn shit show that was."

"I'm Glenn." Glenn said with a smile. "It's nice to meet some new people."

"Rick Grimes."

"Lee Everett."

Dave looked at Hershel. "How about you, pal? Want one?"

"No. I just quit."

"You've got a unique sense of timing, my friend." Dave grinned.

"His name's Hershel." Lee elucidated. "He lost a lot of people yesterday."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that. To better days and new friends. And to our dead. May they be in a better place."

Dave raised his cup and sipped. Dave was reaching into his belt, and Lee already felt his hand floating above his gun. Dave pulled out a Beretta 92FS, a semiautomatic pistol. He exhibited to the new people before putting it on the table. Lee removed his hand from his gun. "Not bad, uh? Got it off a cop."

"I'm a cop."

"This one was already dead."

"You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia."

"It feels like we're a long way from everywhere."

"Well, what drove you South?"

"Well, I can tell you it wasn't the weather. Few months ago, it was so hot I must've dropped thirty pounds of sweat just from being here. Thank God for winter. No, first it was D.C. Heard there might be some kind of refugee camp, but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close. We decided to get off the roads, into the sticks, keep hauling ass. Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way to get out of this thing."

"One guy told us there was the coast guard sitting down in the Gulf, sending ferries to the islands." Tony said.

"The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery running trains to the middle of the country. Kansas, Nebraska."

"Nebraska?" Lee repeated.

"Yeah. Low population, lots of guns." Tony said.

"Kinda makes sense." Glenn opinioned.

"Ever been to Nebraska, kid?" Dave inquired. "There's a reason they call 'em the flyover states. What about you guys?"

"Well, we ain't really got no set destination in mind." Rick said. "We're kinda hunkering down for the moment."

"You're probably doing the right thing. Ain't nothing but pipe dream after pipe dream out there. Yeah. It doesn't seem like you guys are hanging your hats in this place. You holed up somewhere else?"

"Not really."

"Those your cars out front?"

"Yeah. Why?" Glenn enquired.

"We're living in ours. Those look kinda empty, clean. Where's all your gear."

"We're with a larger group." Hershel said. "Out scouting, thought we could use a drink."

"A drink? Hershel, I thought you quit." Dave smiled. "Well, we're thinking of setting up around here. Is it—is it safe?"

"It can be, although I've killed a couple walkers coming here." Glenn said.

"Walkers? That you call them?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. I like that. I like that better than lamebrains. More succinct. So, uh…so what, you set up in the outskirts or something? That new development?"

"Trailer park or something?" Tony asked.

Tony got up and muddled towards the wall. He unbuckled his belt before he started to pee, making a sound of water dripping from a great height. They all glared at him in an awkward manner.

"You in a farm?" Dave asked before he began humming. "Old McDonald had a farm…you got a farm?"

Nobody answered.

"Is it safe?" Dave asked. "You got food, water?"

"You got cooze?" Tony asked. "Ain't had a piece in ass in weeks."

"Listen, I'm sorry. City kids, they got no tact, no disrespect. So, listen, Glenn…"

"We've said enough." Lee interrupted the conversation.

"Wait a minute, this farm, it sounds pretty sweet, it sounds sweet, don't it Tony?"

"Yeah, real sweet." Tony said as he finished his business and tightened his belt. "How about a little southern hospitality?"

"We got some buddies back in camp, been having a real hard time. I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We can pool our resources, our manpower."

"Look, I'm sorry, that's not an option." Rick said.

"We never even ever said we had a farm." Lee remarked.

"You guys sure look you came from one." Dave smirked. "Where'd grandpa's overalls come from? Listen, I don't see why this can't be an option."

"We can't take in anymore." Rick said.

Dave had a nervous chuckle. "You guys are something else. I thought—I thought we were friends. We got people we gotta look out for too."

"We don't know anything about you."

"No, that's true. You don't know anything about us. You don't know what we had to go through out there, the things we've had to do. I bet you've had to do those same things yourself. Am I right? 'Cause ain't nobody's hands clean in what's left of this world. We're all the same. So, c'mon, let's, let's take a nice, friendly hayride to this farm and we'll get to know each other."

"That's not gonna happen."

"Rick, this is bullshit." Tony dissed.

"Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down! Don't ever tell me to calm down! I will shoot you three assholes in the head and take your damned farm!"

Lee whipped out his gun and put it next to Tony's head. Dave and Rick got up all of the sudden. Tony became static and looked right into Lee's eyes. Dave stretched his arms and tried to gently separate the two men. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. Relax. Nobody's killing anybody. Nobody's shooting anybody. Am I right, Rick?"

Lee slowly lowered his gun but he saw Tony's fingers skidding towards his shotgun. Dave walked up to the counter and vaulted over it. "Look. We're just friends having a drink. Now, where's the good stuff, eh?"

Dave noticed Rick's blazing gaze set upon him, so he put his Beretta on the counter as a proof of non-hostility. Dave bent over and rummaged through the counter. Rick had his hand hovering above his Colt when Dave brought out a bottle of rum. "You gotta understand…we can't stay out there. You know how it's like."

"Yeah. I do. But the farm is too crowded as is, I'm sorry. You'll have to keep looking."

"Keep looking…where do you suggest we do that?"

"I hear Nebraska's just fine."

Dave laughed and waved his finger towards Rick. "Nebraska…this guy…"

Dave went silent. In a split second, everything changed. Dave's hand changed from the bottle of rum and reached for his pistol, but Rick drew faster from his sheriff days and fired a bullet right between Dave's eyes. The shot killed him instantly and a spatter of blood exploded on the mirror hung behind him.

Before Dave's body even hit the ground, Lee already had his gun against Tony's temple. "Don't move!"

Lee wasn't planning on killing him. He believed that murder was only valid in the most extreme of worst case scenarios, but right now Tony was scared shitless and didn't pose a threat.

Lee jumped backwards and shrunk his shoulders when Tony was shot clear through the forehead, spraying Lee's shirt. He fell against the counter and saw Tony's blobby body collapse against the wall, with his eyes rolled up into his skull. Lee looked to his side, and saw Rick with his gun flaunted in Tony's direction.

Lee panted as his heart was racing. He felt a sense of anger against Rick, and he had never seen someone get shot in such a merciless fashion before, and so close to him.

A/N: What up my people? Here's Sheriff Wolf, bringing you another chapter. I would just like to thank all of you for your great support, right now I have hundreds of views, a lot of followers and the review amount is crazy! To be honest, looking back on my work I kinda think most of it is shit. So, genuinely, thanks for enjoying my shitty story.

Next chapter will bring a few beloved characters into the mix. Tune in to find out who it is!