*First off, hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the long wait. There's been the end of school, getting my EMT license, and a very intense six week summer school class which is only half way over. I hope that this chapter is worth the wait though. Second thing, another author I follow asked their readers to send them fanart of their character, and it made me curious to see what you guys imagine Aria looks like. If you want to create a sketch or any type of art just PM me. I'd really love to see what you think she looks like. Anyway, enjoy the new chapter and I'm going to try and get the next one out as soon as I can. Thanks!*
Aria's POV
My fingers clench and unclench into a fist. All hell is breaking loose. The disease spread to everyone who survived D and now others are getting it; Sasha, Kyler, Dr. S, Hadley. It's only a matter of time until the rest of us get it or before everyone turns and dies and we have a group of walkers on our hands. Not to mention we have a fucking murderer running around in our midst.
Barely fifteen minutes after talking with Rick he came to me asking for help. It wasn't just my help he needed either. Daryl, Carol, and I went with Rick where Tyreese showed us Karen and David's burned bodies. Somebody killed them in their cells, dragged them out to a courtyard at the back of the tombs and burned them. Tyreese blew up, blind rage consuming him in the moment of grief of his girlfriend, and attacked Rick; which only made the ex cop act out and beat the man to a pulp. In the end, whoever killed the two was trying to stop the spread of the disease, but it didn't work. Karen and David were the only two that were sick yesterday. Now half of our people are coming down with it.
"First things first, A block is isolation. We keep the sick people there like we tried with Karen and David," Hershel explains.
Michonne and I stay off to the side, leaning against the shelves of books as we listen to the Council. Walkers we can stop. Humans we can stop. Hell, angels and demons we can take care of, but a fucking super bug is what will bring us down.
"What are we gonna do to stop it?" Carol questions and I tune back into the discussion.
"There is no stopping it. Once you get it, you have to go through it."
"But it just kills you?" We all turn towards Michonne, Daryl sparing a quick glance my way. He's been keeping a close eye on me all morning after we found out the others were coming down with it, but I'm not worried about myself. Not as much as I'm worried about the others.
"The illness doesn't. The symptoms do. We need antibiotics," Hershel explains.
"We've been through every pharmacy nearby and then some."
My fists clench tight at my side. We can't make a single fucking move. We could use the brothers right now. I suck in a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly. There hasn't been a single word from the King of Hell in the past week. Either the fucker played me or this scribe has beaten the clever and conniving Crowley.
"That veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech, that's one place people may not have thought of to raid for medication. The drugs for animals are the same we need."
"That's fifty miles," Daryl comments solemnly. He draws in a quick breath, nodding his head, "Took a big risk before, ain't now. I'm gonna take a group out. Best not waste any more time."
"I'm in." Michonne pushes off the bookcase, volunteering herself.
"You haven't been exposed. Daryl has. You get in a car with him…"
"He's already given me fleas," she comments, shooting down Hershel's concern. The old man chuckles before standing up,
"I'll lead the way. I know where everything's kept."
The five of us look down and I bite my lip. He's eager to help, but this run is dangerous. There's no telling what you can run into out there. Hershel's able now with his fake leg, but not able enough to run from a horde.
"When we're out there, it's always the same. Sooner or later we run."
"I can draw you a map," the old man offers, the excitement gone from his voice, disappointment in his shoulders. He looks like an old dog watching the youthful puppies play fetch. Desperate to get up and play, but sidelined by his age. Daryl starts to leave as Hershel speaks up again,
"I feel as though there are other precautions we should take."
"Like what?" Carol questions.
"There's no telling how long it'll be before Daryl and his group return. Wouldn't it make sense to separate the most vulnerable? We can use the administration building, separate office, separate room."
"Who is the most vulnerable," Glenn questions, speaking for the first time since we've gathered.
"The very young," Hershel replies as if the answer is obvious, but I see where Glenn is going with this and it's another blow to the wise man.
"What about the old?" The two watch each other for a quiet moment before Hershel nods solemnly.
"I'll get to work on the map for you and the list of medicines. In the meantime, let's start to move everyone," he leaves, Carol and Glenn following after him.
"I'll get the list. Meet you by the gate in a while," Michonne tells Daryl before leaving the two of us alone.
"I was thinking we take Zack's car. It's the fastest one we got. We can be there in no time." Daryl watches me expectantly and I nod, pushing off the bookcase.
"Sounds good, but I'm not going with you."
"Why?" he questions quickly, caught off guard by my words. Because I'm going to do something stupid and I don't want you to know.
"I can't leave Hadley and Kyler. If something happens…"
"Alright," Daryl sighs in understanding. It's not a total lie, but telling him that I'm going to summon the King of Hell again won't go well. All hell is breaking loose and I need the brothers. Our numbers are dropping by the hour. We don't stand a chance against any attack out there. I need them here, safe and sound, and in my line of sight. His hand snakes around the back of my neck and draws my head to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead, "Just be safe."
"You too."
The coughing can be heard from way down the hallway. Each one is brutal and makes you sympathize for the poor souls suffering from the virus. Death sweeps through the halls as he patiently waits for the next person to croak inside of the locked block. I slip into the visitation room off of the entrance to death row. Sunlight strains through the dirt encrusted windows, barely lighting up the room.
Hadley sits on the other side of the plexi-glass window, slouched over in the chair. I tap on the glass, grabbing my friend's attention. She slowly lifts her head up and it takes everything in me to not gasp. Her eyes are rimmed a deep red, sweat drenching her ghost white skin. Those chocolate brown irises are even drained of their dark color, fading with her life. A barely-there smile manages to make it to her chapped lips,
"Hey."
"Hey, Hads," I greet softly, trying to not let her see how worried I am. She knows how bad she looks. I'm sure she feels even worse.
"That bad, huh?"
"You've seen better days." A smirk settles on her face,
"What's happening out there?"
"Daryl's getting a group together to get some meds for you guys. They should be back by tomorrow morning." But it doesn't look like Hadley can make it until then. Her body looks so weak and frail a breeze could knock her down. You need more help.
"You're not going with them?" She breathes out, chest labored with the exertion she's under just trying to talk. I shake my head,
"Wanted to stay here and keep an eye on you."
"I'd believe that if it came from anyone other than you. You're a soldier, Aria. You run out into the battlefield to help the injured, not sit on the sidelines."
A cough racks through her chest, causing her to curl in on herself with the force. I watch her hack and hack, hand on the window as she tries to steady herself. I press my hand against the glass, resting over hers. She might be right about me being a soldier, but I know that I can get help here faster with my plans. Those dull eyes look up through the strands of hair fallen into her face.
"That's why I stayed, Hadley," I answer softly, pulling my hand away. She gives a tiny nod, slumping back in the chair as she sucks in a large breath. "How is it in there?"
"Bad. Kyler's not doing well and the others…just feels like we're given up."
I swallow hard, nodding my head. She can't lose him. It's there in her eyes; the desperation she's clinging to at Kyler's worsening condition. They have to keep hope though, all of them if they are going to get out of there.
"Listen to me. Everything's going to be fine. I just need you to keep fighting. Just a little while longer, but you can't give up." There has to be a way to save these people, to keep Hadley, Kyler, Glenn, and the others alive. I can't just sit and wait for those meds to arrive. Some of them might not have that long. "Get some rest. I'll check on you later."
"Okay," she breathes out, mustering all the energy she has to stand from her chair. Hadley leans into the cement wall in support as she shuffles back into the block, turning last second, "Don't do anything stupid." There's a teasing smirk on her lips and I fake one in return,
"Wouldn't dream of it." It's a small lie, but one I'm willing to tell if it means that I can help her. This virus took one day to kill Patrick. The people inside A came down with it this morning, some earlier than that. It's going to get a hell of a lot worse before it even comes close to getting better.
I'm tired of sitting on my ass and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm working with the King of Hell. I expect results and updates, not to be led along. Either the boys are dead or he's screwing me over, waiting me out until I give him the information he wants. I need the Winchesters to save these people, not just from this virus but from whatever else is out there. So, if Crowley thinks he can fuck with me, he's got another thing coming.
The scratch of the match against the striking paper sounds followed immediately by the crack of fire exploding from the sulfur head. I drop the glowing stick into the bowl of herbs, flinching as it explodes with a quick flame. The empty red devil's trap spray painted on the floor is no longer empty, occupied now by the King of Hell. I slam into the demon, pinning him against the wall with the demon knife pressed to his throat.
"Where are the Winchesters, Crowley?"
His hands come in up in surrender, a blank look on his bearded face. "Easy there, firecracker," he placates, grabbing my arm to pull the knife away from his throat.
I shove back though, slamming him once more into the concrete wall. I'm done with the excuses, the loopholes, the damn waiting. People are dying. Friends that have become my family are slowly wasting away. The only people that tie me to my past are missing. I'm done being pushed around. It's time that these fuckers know exactly who they are dealing with.
The demon huffs in annoyance, rolling his eyes. "I want fucking answers," I snarl, glaring with eyes cold as ice.
His brow creases, teeth bared, "It would be wise of you to remember who you are talking to."
"And it would be wise for you to remember that I'm the one you asked to help with your anarchy problem." I ease up on the demon, releasing my hold completely as I step out of the devil's trap. "What have you found on the brothers?"
Crowley straightens his suit coat with a scowl. "Nothing. Metatron doesn't leave a trail and he most certainly does not have many accomplices. Those he uses aren't lucky enough to see his great schemes to the end."
I run a hand through my hair, a thousand thoughts crossing my mind, none of them pleasant. If Crowley can't find this angel then there's no way to save the boys, no way of saving these people. "There's got to be something you're missing."
"I'm not. Moose and Squirrel got themselves into a predicament that they can't get out of. I can't say it's a loss."
"Let me remind you that they are the only reason that I am even close to finding a way to kill Abaddon. If you want even the slightest hint on how to take that bitch down, I suggest you start working a lot harder," I growl, pointing the demon knife at him.
He steps to the edge of the trap, hands hidden in his pockets, "What is it that you would have me do, darling? Run in circles like a dog chasing its tail?"
"Anything would be better than you telling me you have nothing to show for a week's worth of looking!"
"Why don't you stop acting like those brothers and get your wits back? There is nothing to find. Your boys were in Heaven and then snatched away without a trace. You should try questioning those righteous feathered babies for some help instead of the King of Hell!" He blows, growing red in the face.
I pace back and forth, running a hand through my hair, "Most of them want me dead. I doubt they would want to help me." Crowley's big chest deflates, curiosity settling into those deceitful brown eyes.
"So, even paradise in the clouds is falling apart?"
"Welcome to the apocalypse, Crowley. The whole world has gone to shit."
"Ah well thank you for the reminder as if it wasn't obvious," he snarks with sarcasm, only adding to my irritation.
How am I supposed to do this?
I have no leads and no way of even finding one. It's not like I'm at the bunker with all the information on the supernatural surrounding me. I'm completely on my own here.
"Is that what I think it is?" Crowley's question snaps me back into the moment as he eyes the leather bound journal on the table.
"John's journal. The only thing that will have information on the demon who knew about this weapon for Abaddon," I answer with a sigh.
"Can I see it?"
"No."
He looks at me, rolling his eyes with a huff, "You don't even know what you're looking for in there. I can help you pick through the John Winchester Memorial Library and found out exactly where the weapon to kill Abaddon is."
"And what is this weapon, Crowley? You were pretty vague when you first asked me. Spill it," I order roughly, twirling the demon knife in my hand.
"It's called the First Blade. The archangels used it to kill the Knights of Hell originally. I've been chasing the damn thing for decades. The closest I ever got to it was when of my droogs, Smitty, got wind of a protégé demon of Abaddon's, who claimed knowledge of the blade. Sadly, before Smitty could nab the guy, John Winchester killed the protégé."
"Smitty? Really?"
"That's all you took from that? Bloody hell," he sighs.
"Yeah, it is. What's the point of the damn story?" I question bored. The man could talk you in circles. I understand exactly why he was the king of the crossroads. He's like a car sales man, talking you into believing you're getting the best of the best when you're not.
"My point is that I believe the answer to where that blade is located is right inside there," he explains, pointing at the leather bound book.
"All right, say the answer is in here. What's going to happen when I give it to you? Just because you hit a dead end doesn't mean I don't expect you to keep up your end of the deal, Crowley. I want you to find the Winchesters and Cas."
"You want to go through this again, darling? I already told you I'm a man of my word. Besides this is a part-"
"A partnership, yeah, I get it. I just don't know many demons to stick to their word."
"I'm a businessman, Aria. It does me no good to go back on partner that has a very valuable set of skills that can help me."
"That means nothing to me. Give me one good reason why I should trust you with a Winchester journal."
It's a hunter's journal. They all have the same information basically, but the idea of letting a demon rifle through it feels like a betrayal of John's memory. This book is a part of John that was left behind for Sam and Dean, a way for the boys to still connect with their father. It's his guide to being the best hunter out there. I can't just give it up.
"Simple, darling, you have no one else. I'm your only hope at finding the boys."
"Fine" I huff, snatching up the leather book. "But you read it here and that's it. Understood?"
"Very," he answers, hand outstretched expectantly. It takes a lot of convincing inside my head before I pass the book over.
He's your only chance at fixing a part of this fucked up world.
There's no telling how many souls Abaddon has turned by now. Sam and Dean were the ones keeping an eye on her and after the angel fiasco we lost track of her. If I can take her down then it's one less threat to worry about.
Crowley files through the pages, eyes scouring over John's handwriting. I chew at my lip, tapping my foot impatiently the longer he takes, racking my brain through the list of demons I made from the book. What kind of demon is named Smitty? It's one that I would remember for sure after looking through that thing over a hundred times.
"Ah, here it is." I stop at that edge of the trap and reach in, snatching the book from him. "I was reading that."
"I think you've read plenty." He rolls his eyes, mumbling a few choice words under his breath as I read over the page he stopped on. It's a short entry from back before I was a hunter. John talks about the protégé and a bag of bones with a high level demon, but the codes in the margin are what make me curious.
"Do you know what the numbers in the margin mean?"
"Yeah, John had a dozen or so storage lockers where he kept case files and other supernatural mumbo jumbo. It's the code to get inside, but which one I can't tell you."
"What about the 'T'?" I shrug my shoulders,
"No clue. The guy was military. He had a dozen different ways of coding this damn thing. It doesn't matter anyway."
"Why's that?"
"Why do you think, Crowley? He had lockers all over the country. You're lucky now a days to even get a car that can get you that far, let alone get you far enough without running into a mob of the dead. There's no way to even check the damn things. It's a lost cause."
"You can't get to them. On the other hand, I don't have that problem."
A harsh scoff leaves me, "Like hell I would lead you to those storage lockers."
"Why not? You want Abaddon dead, right? This is a lead!"
"You obviously don't know who you're dealing with here. John had every place painted with devil's traps and lined with salt. You think you're just going to waltz right in and get the information you want?" The journal makes a loud smack on the metal table where I drop it and lean back frustrated. I'm not going to run off with the King of Hell. I'm desperate not stupid, but if Crowley gets Sam and Dean back then the three of us can go look. Maybe the boys would know what that "T" means and can put the puzzle pieces together for me. "Find the brothers and Cas. Once you do that, we'll find the storage locker."
"And what if I fail or Metatron decided to end them?" A snarl leaves me as I growl out,
"Then I'll go with you myself and use the same blade to kill that winged asshole."
The late summer sun sits at its highest in the cloudless sky, signaling mid-day. No sign of Daryl and the others since yesterday afternoon, Rick and Carol left, the Winchesters are fucked, and people are dropping like flies.
"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck...you…" I snarl under my breath with every stab of the crowbar, killing the dead piled up on the fence once again.
Two people are all we have keeping this place running right now, just Maggie and me. Everyone else is either on a run or quarantined. Daryl's group should have been back this morning at the latest, but they never showed. So, Rick took Carol out to look for food and medical supplies nearby. We have nothing after the outbreak in D. All of our food was stored in there. Now it's no good and we don't even dare step foot in there in case one of us gets the virus. The only way to survive this world is with people and we have none.
The fence quakes with the force of the walkers and I push faster, letting my emotions take control and freeing them with every hit. My hair falls into my face, sticking to my sweat soaked skin as I grunt with the exertion. "Why...won't...you...just...go!" I bark as I come to a stop, slapping the strands out of my face, the walkers growling with my loud remark.
"You okay?" Maggie heads down the gravel path towards me with a cane in hand; her eyes squinted against the bright sun.
"No. Are you?"
"No." A tired, unenthusiastic laugh leaves us both before I sigh heavily, starting back on the fence. Maggie joins in a moment later and the two of us work quietly, letting our frustration and fears out as we try to defend our home.
"How's Glenn?"
"I didn't talk to him. My dad said he was resting." Two walkers go down with her next hit, the cane exiting one head only to pierce the one behind it. Her voice trembles with a soft sniffle, but I don't call her out on it. Her husband is dying, and her father is smack dab in the middle of the infection zone doing his best to help those people hold on a little longer. "Have you seen Hadley?"
I shake my head, "Not since yesterday afternoon." I don't want to yet because I know as soon as I see how bad she is I'm going to be running in there. I'm holding out for as long as I can. She's a fighter, Glenn's a fighter, they all are, and we just have to wait a little longer for the meds. Daryl will make it back and the others will get through this disease. This isn't the end for us, it can't be.
A soft rumble echoes over the walker's growling, halting both our killing. Maggie steps up on her tiptoes, struggling to see over the mass of walkers. "It's Rick."
"Get the gate. I'll be there in a moment," I order, taking down several more walkers as Maggie runs to let the green Hyundai in. The gate creaks as it opens, letting out the same rusted squeak as it's pulled shut. Two more walkers go down before I head over towards Maggie and Rick. I quicken my pace, noticing that only one person steps out the car. My heart thunders in my chest as I round the corner, that dreaded question falling from Maggie desperately,
"Rick, where's Carol?" The man's back is to us and I hold my breath, screaming internally in the seconds it takes him to turn around. She can't be dead. Those sharp blue eyes land on me as he faces us.
"It was her. She killed Karen and David."
Three words, three simple words are all it takes for that dread to turn into white hot rage. Because this is Carol he's talking about, sweet, motherly Carol who would do anything for us. It's a lie. That's not her.
"She was trying to stop it from spreading. Tyreese was going to be back soon, so I didn't think she should be here. I didn't want her here," the ex-sheriff spills.
"You left her?" My question holding a curt edge.
"She has supplies, a car, she'll-"
"She'll what, Rick? She'll make it?"
"Aria…"
"You and I both know how dangerous it is out there! We need people to survive. You can't make it without people, damn it, and you sent her out there to die!"
"It's not like that," he retorts back, stepping to me with a hard set frown. "Tyreese would kill her when he found out."
"I could have handled that! We could have handled that! That was not your decision to make. You stepped away from that duty."
"You told me that I can't fight the inevitable."
I go toe to toe with the man, jabbing a finger in his face with a dark snarl, "That was not your decision to make."
I turn on my heels, grabbing the crowbar I dropped at the news, and let the walkers have it. We could have figured something out, something better than sending her out there alone. She was trying to do her job. I get it and maybe that's why I can't see what Rick and Maggie see because I would have done the same thing.
Would you? She killed two innocent people, people who were a part of your family.
I ram the crowbar harder through the fence, wanting so badly to just swing the damn thing like a baseball bat to feel the real relief I so desperately crave.
She crossed a line. You know that.
I don't want to believe that though. Carol, who's been nothing but a mother to me, killing two of our own is unthinkable. That's not her, but Rick wouldn't have just sent her away like that unless it was true. This is Carol. She was willing to go so far as murder to save us, much like I was ready to give Crowley whatever he needed to get the brother's back. I may not have crossed that line, but I'm not a saint either. I've done plenty of other bad things in my life, stuff that I'm not proud of. These people still accepted me despite that.
It's not the same.
The gravel crunches under a pair of feet making their way towards me. Maggie comes up beside me, starting back on the wall with as much fever as me. I don't know what she thinks exactly of the situation, but she's just as upset.
Imagine the others.
It's only one other person though that I can imagine clear as day, and I hope Rick is prepared. Daryl's not going to take the news lightly. He's not the same man he was at the quarry, but that explosive temper is still there, more tamed but, all the same, there.
Maggie and I fall back into our silent rhythm, our heavy breathing mixing with the groans of the dead. It's not long before we both step away from the fence to give our exhausted bodies a break. I suck air in greedily, wiping the sweat from my brow. The fence continues to shake with the force of the dead. Their numbers only seem to keep growing with each one we take down.
You can't stop them just like you can't stop this virus.
"The wall needs support if we're going to keep them out," Rick comments, heading for us. Maggie and I nod, pushing off the wall as I stalk past Rick and towards the courtyard. The man's my friend, but I still don't know if I can agree with what he did. Stacks of wooden logs lie piled up on the far end of the C block near the cars. I open the truck bed and grab one of the logs to load. My muscles protest under the weight and Rick grabs the backside helping me lift it into the car. Maggie gets the keys and axes, leaving only me and him alone. We grab the next one, a sharp hiss leaving Rick as he shakes his wrapped hand.
"You shouldn't be doing this with the way your hand is."
"You need all the help you can get."
I bite my tongue, holding back the comments about him sending Carol away. If she was here we would have more people to take care of this place. I grab the next log, setting it on the edge of the truck bed as the two of us slide it the rest of the way in.
"She couldn't be here, Aria." A sharp grunt leaves me as I lift the next piece of wood, ignoring Rick's words. "I had to-"
"Just stop, Rick." Maggie heads for us, axes and keys in hand. I sigh, turning back to our leader, "I believe you when you say she killed Karen and David, but I don't believe you made the right choice leaving her out there. She's family. That means we work it out together."
There have been plenty of times where the brothers and I have come close to killing each other or hurting one another. We didn't exile each other and cut off times, we worked through it. Rick doesn't say anything, silently helping Maggie and me load the rest of the truck. The three of us remain quiet, lost in our thoughts as we put up the supports on the wall. Rick and Maggie talk a little about Hershel, but otherwise our lips are sealed.
My thoughts run rampant with worry of Daryl, Hadley, and the others. I'm torn between wishing I had gone with Daryl and the group, and being in A block to help the sick. Hershel and Dr. S. can use all the help they can get and I could help, so could Maggie. Instead, we are out here, doing everything we can to keep the prison standing.
You're exactly where you should be, Aria. What if you got sick in there? You wouldn't be helping anyone then.
The sun hangs low in the sky, painting it a dark orange as evening creeps closer to its end. Rick unloads the logs from the truck while Maggie and I work on chopping them so that they fit against the wall. Insects chirp their song alongside the walker's growls. Every few hits my gaze travels to the gate, waiting for Zach's car to come barreling down the road. They left yesterday afternoon. They should have been back this morning and with each passing hour, the knot in my stomach grows tighter.
Fifty miles of unknown road. They could have run into other people, demons, walkers, car problems.
I raise the axe, freezing as a muffled gunshot breaks the silence of us three. My heart's in my throat, my grip tightening on the weapon in my hands. Maggie glances at me, that same fear reflected in her pale green stare. She clenches her jaw, watching the prison for a brief moment before bringing the blade down again with a grunt.
"Go." Rick's eyes are trained on the prison, panic written in his tired features.
"The fence is more important. We need to keep it standing," Maggie defends
"I got this."
She stops her chopping, torn between staying or going, "You can't do this alone."
"He's not," I say, stepping in. "Go help your dad."
With that she races towards A as another muffled gunshot echoes in the evening air. I pick up where I left off, chopping at the thick log almost violently.
Hadley and Kyler will watch one another. They can take care of themselves. The reassurance does nothing to calm me. I cut through the log in a few more swings before Rick gently grabs my shoulder,
"Go help her. I can handle this."
"So, can Maggie, Rick. She was right when she said the fence was more important." He grabs the handle of the axe,
"Aria, I'll handle this. They need you." I huff, handing him the axe. "Watch yourself."
"Always."
Night arrives just as I enter the halls of the prison, making it pitch black as I maneuver the turns. Screams echo off the stone walls along with Maggie's yelling. I push my legs faster, freeing my gun from my waistband, clicking the safety off, and checking the chamber. Maggie slams the axe into the door handle as I round the corner, frantically trying to free it. Through the window I see people running about, two or three walkers stumbling after them. Fuck.
I grab hold of Maggie just as the wooden handle of the axe snaps, leaving the blade embedded in the door handle. "Wait!" I yell, lowering her arms as she readies to shoot the glass. "It won't do anything." It's got metal layered in the glass. Shooting won't do anything but waste bullets.
"Then what do we do!" I glance down the hallway I came. The visiting room.
"Come with me."
She doesn't hesitate, racing through the winding turns as we reach the plexi-glass window separating us from the sick. Maggie fires the shot, the sound reverberating in the enclosed space as the glass shatters to pieces. I hop over the wall, pistol raised as the two of us race into the block. One body is slumped over on the ground, blood pooling beneath its torso. Maggie rounds the stairs, a snarl piercing the air followed by a gunshot.
"Daddy!" I look up to see Hershel battling a walker on the mesh overhang. Her gun comes up, aimed for the struggling walker.
"Don't! You could hit the bag! We need it for Glenn!" I start up the stairs to help Hershel when the gun sounds, pulling my gaze to where the struggle was. The old man is pulling the bag free and Maggie is racing past me to where Glenn is upstairs.
"Hershel-"
"Check on the others," he calls down to me as he climbs over the railing and hobbles back to help his son in law. I check the body by the stairwell, checking for a gunshot wound to the head. It's Mallory, a young woman who lost her baby sister to the attack in D the other day. I unsheathe my knife, stabbing her in the back of the head as I check each cell.
You have to check everyone, make sure the threat is taken care of before you check on them.
People are shaken up, sitting on their beds as I pop my head in, weapon ready for anything. There are no signs of a threat and I race to Hadley's cell, calling out to her,
"Hads!"
I grip the cell door of her room, my breath catching. A puddle of blood seeps from under Kyler's body, the red soaking the front of his shirt, and staining his grey skin. Hadley's still, kneeled by his side with a blood soaked knife in her hands.
"He was trying to help Hershel," she whispers, voice void of feeling. I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut.
You should have gone with Daryl. You could have brought those meds back faster, gotten them both out of this damn block.
"He grabbed the walker on top of him and was struggling with it when he got shot...It was an accident. The guy got bit and he just...pulled the trigger."
Her hands are painted in red, smears of it on her cheeks where she tried to wipe away the tears. I fight my own, kneeling beside her. Kyler's eyes are open, his grey eyes staring at the ceiling lifeless, his lips frozen in a final gasp of air. I'm sorry.
"It should have been me." Hadley takes her eyes off the man she loved, finally looking at me. Her skin is ghost white; eyes rimmed a cherry red with a sheen of sweat coating her skin. "I saw the walker going for Hershel. I was going to help, but Kyler, he...he pulled me back, and then he…" She hiccups, tears streaming down her face before I pull her to me, letting her bury her head in my chest as she tries to breathe. "It's...my...fault," she gasps between each sob.
"No, no it's not," my words cracking. You were supposed to protect her from this pain.
There's a stampede of running feet echoing in the block before my name rings out. I run my hand over Hadley's back, her shirt soaked through with sweat, ignoring Daryl's call. He yells for me once more before coming to a stop in front of the cell, stopping mid-step as he takes in the scene. That gaze of his remains locked on Kyler before he turns around, walking away. His shadow is just a few feet away from the cell door, frozen as he stands with his head on the wall. Guess we're all blaming ourselves for fates we don't get to decide.
