7/28/15 13:42 GMT
Aberdeen International Airport, Dyce, Scotland
"Can we slow down? Just for a minute?" Milton asked from a full yard behind them.
They were less than a mile from the airport and the doctor was already huffing and puffing. It surprised Rick that the slender man wasn't in better shape. But then 350 lbs. linebackers who looked like they were going to die from hypertension any moment ran up and down a 120-yard football field numerous times per game and barely got winded. Still, if he'd had to guess, he would have said he and Carol had around five to ten years on Mamet and Daryl had about 50 lbs. on him and yet without them pacing themselves they'd have left the young doctor in the dust. But, in his defense, between the broken arm and the large face wound, he was also quite hurt. Given that, Rick supposed age, size and shape had nothing to do with it and strove for greater patience with him.
Rick tried not to roll his eyes but looking over at Daryl, it became clear he didn't have to. Dixon had done it for all of them. Daryl was already seething with anger over Jesus and the complaining was not further endearing the doctor to him. Carol remained conspicuously quiet and Rick just lowered his eyes and shook his head. They were quite a quartet.
Mamet shifted the pack on his back again and cradled the arm he held in a sling. It wasn't that the bag was actually heavy. It contained some bandages for dressing his own wound, lab specimens and the external hard drive they'd been entrusted with but little else. Because of his injuries and the three soldiers general distrust of his capabilities, he would not have been allowed to carry anything at all, if he hadn't insisted vehemently on it. But now as he lagged behind, clutching his broken arm to his chest and out of breath like he was hauling bricks on his back, Rick considered lightening his load even more.
"How much farther?" Milton asked a few short minutes later. "I don't mean to belabor the point but I really don't understand why we couldn't have driven." He trudged right at their heels once they'd slowed a bit more to accommodate him.
Rick could almost see Daryl's eyes rolling again in his peripheral vision. Carol smiled tolerantly at the doctor but for some reason, Rick suspected it was less than genuine. He adjusted his own pack and considered how to answer the question tactfully. He supposed this was a grown man's equivalent of "Are we there yet?" and it was annoying in the same manner nevertheless. But in that moment, Daryl surprised them all by being the one to answer, and with more than just a hostile grunt.
"All those miles of deserted road you see on TV are crap, Doc. In a real emergency, every shitbird with four wheels jumps in their old Chevy and hits the road thinkin' they're the first genius to get that idea. In real life, we'd be lucky to find one, single quarter-mile without a stalled-out beater blocking the way, not to mention, dozens of those things wanderin' around. If you want empty stretches of roadway, it's the train tracks every time."
Both Milton and Rick listened fascinated by Daryl's insight. For Rick, it wasn't at all about what he'd said, which Rick recognized as truth, but the mere fact that he'd said so much of it. It was probably more words strung together than all the other times Daryl had spoken to Rick since they'd met...combined. He appreciated the effort enough that he chose not to add anything to Milton and Daryl's conversation himself. Carol just watched as if Daryl spoke like this all the time and after a moment, they all fell back into a contemplative silence, keeping their eyes trained on the suddenly heavily wooded area they'd entered.
Rick's rifle lay loosely cradled in his arms but he kept his hand on its grip, index finger resting on the trigger-guard, ready. For long minutes they walked quietly, only the occasional birdsong or flapping of wings breaking the silence. The world had ended only days earlier and yet there was already an appreciable difference in the environment. The quiet seemed deeper to Rick, the smells richer and the browns and greens of the plants and trees that surrounded them more vivid. It was as if nature had already begun to reassert its claim on civilization. In a different world, the one he'd inhabited even just a week ago, Rick would have treasured the opportunity to take Carl on a walk through such a landscape. But now all the experience inspired in him was a vague sense of dread and a hyper-awareness of his surroundings.
After a while, in the distance, they came across a clearing in the thicket of trees that had seemingly encroached from all sides. The tracks they were on looked as if it narrowed to a truss bridge across a wide empty expanse. As they approached, the tops of uniformly quaint thatched-roofs came into view. Then closing in on the bridge, the white lime walls the roofs were attached to became further visible, dawning over the horizon line as the ground sloped downward before them. As they neared, Rick realized the trestlework bridge represented the only traverse across. And what he had originally thought were homes were actually, upon closer inspection, storefronts on a shopping thoroughfare beneath them. It became clear as they came nearer to the edge that the road below was more of a British-style high street than the residential neighborhood he mistook it for initially. And then as if making Daryl's earlier point for him, the full picture emerged.
This was going to be a problem.
Daryl, who was at that moment taking the lead, turned suddenly, raised a hand from his side and made a fist. The wordless sign to halt. He turned and stooped down to inch quietly back to where they were coming up behind him. Rick and Carol immediately followed suit but Milton did not. Carol, who had chosen to walk abreast of him, was forced to reach up and grab Mamet by the loop of his pack and drag him back to his knees as quietly as she could manage. She pulled the scientist into a crouch where they could all confer near wordlessly. Daryl scowled at him then and he looked appropriately shame-faced.
"Get your head outta the clouds, Doc." Daryl growled under his breath. "We ain't on a fuckin' field trip."
The entire high street was thick with stalled cars, buses and infected. People, who had perhaps been shoppers a day or two earlier, roamed blindly around the streets. A quick count made at least fifty of them to Rick's eyes. They were all down in the valley between the hills that adjoined the trestle on either side, so there could have been even more Rick just couldn't see. He sighed to himself in irritation.
A survey of the terrain before them failed to reveal another way across and the slope of the hills around them was steep but gentle enough that a motivated climber could get up. No one had seen these creatures climb but they hadn't not seen it either. One way or another they knew, if they were spotted, the infected would be more than "motivated" to reach them. All that meant was that they had to get across the trestle bridge in as quiet a manner as humanly possible. Unfortunately, the trestle had been made to accommodate a train on its track, not bipedal humans trying to evade a zombie horde. There was not much in the way of a walkway and the rail-ties were spaced disconcertingly far apart, with a nice view of the thirty-foot drop to the ground between each of them.
"I don't think we want to try and double back." Rick whispered examining the terrain on the newly-activated satellite nav-phone.
The phone, which he'd been given on the Ticonderoga, had been like a high-tech paperweight for nearly two days. Once they'd crossed over into the Southern Hemisphere despite assurances to the contrary, it had just suddenly stopped working. But about three hours ago, as they crossed over what the nav later indicated was Luxembourg, it had reactivated like a cell finally leaving a dead zone. Their "zombie-phone", as Jesus' had drolly called it, shocked their entire company by springing to life. That incited a flurry of calls that ultimately didn't end up providing anyone any new information. But since then, and for over an hour now, Rick had been fighting the impulse to use it to check in. His sole desire was to speak with his kids aboard the Andrew Jackson but he already knew they were fine.
Rick had used the intranet at the outpost in Rwanda to exchange a few brief emails with their superiors. He had already known regular check-ins were the key to assuring his children's spaces aboard the ship remained secure. He'd been informed before he left that those spaces were at a premium and reserved only for the families of people on active-duty. So without even asking, he'd known that nearly 40-hours of radio-silence had put those spaces in jeopardy.
Still, once in contact, he was quickly reassured that the children and Beth were safe in the same tersely-worded way he'd apprised them of his deviation from their established mission parameters. But deep down, he knew something had happened. And until he had actionable results or intelligence to report to the Secretary of State —which required him to get himself and his group to the WHO facility—it was clear they weren't planning to be any more forthcoming than they had already been. Of course, just knowing his children were still alive was not the same as speaking with them and hearing it for himself. And at that moment, holding that nav phone in his hands, it became increasingly difficult to think of anything else.
"...Looks like every other route takes us through even more populated places." Carol was saying, looking over his shoulder at the nav display.
"We can't risk that, but we're skirting the edge of a forest right now. Do we want to try cutting through it?" Rick asked trying to jump back into the conversation from where his mind had wandered briefly. "We still have a few hours of daylight left, technically."
He glanced up at the darkening, already overcast sky, "We might make up some time if we do."
"Anything could be in those trees." Carol reminded him. "I wanna see them coming."
Daryl set his mouth grimly but nodded in agreement. "Yeah."
Rick nodded in turn and even Milton concurred, delicately pawing at his wound again. It was inescapably true. If even a few infected wandered into the woods, with no sight-lines, it could make them relatively easy pickings.
The bridge it was.
"Okay, so Carol, you're first up. Then we'll use Jesus' rifle to pick off any Looky-Lous ...quietly."
She nodded, hoisting the large gun's strap higher up on her shoulder. What made her a good pilot: a steady hand, unflappable nerves and eagle eyes, had also made her a decently rated marksman in basic training, she'd informed them on the plane when volunteering to carry the heavy gun herself.
"Daryl, then you. We've only got the one suppressor and Lieu has it, so no firing unless we're FUBAR'd."
"Got it."
As they all got to their feet, Rick pulled Milton, who once again had missed the cue, up by his pack. He stumbled onto Rick with only one good arm to steady himself. "Dr. Mamet, you're with me, pulling up the rear. We are gonna cross tandem. You understand what that means?"
Milton rolled his eyes, gathering himself. "I am an English-speaker, so yes."
Rick didn't say anything immediately in response but gave the doctor one good shove in the direction they were all walking. He pitched forward but caught himself in a step or two. Rick waited again for Mamet to compose himself then continued.
"We take every step together, yes? Every step."
Milton nodded his understanding as they walked slowly toward the trestle.
Wordlessly, Rick made it clear to them all that he didn't want to hear even a twig break beneath someone's feet as they walked up. They approached the trestle carefully bent at the waist to avoid catching the eyes of any stargazers below. At the approach, they got down again and waited. This part was Carol's journey alone. Moving her pack around to the front where she could hug it to her chest with the other hand behind her, securing the gun, she walked slowly. Slightly hunched over, she made the first small jump from one rail tie to the next then paused. Her bag jostled but her arm across it stopped any major noise.
She repeated the same small hops across the expanse. What could have taken her three minutes under normal circumstances, took ten nail-biters. Rick looked between Peletier and Dixon, whose eyes took every single move with her. When she was safely on the other side, Rick actually saw Daryl exhale. She laid down in the high grass of the embankment then and took a position cater-corner from the track. From there, she could cover the opposite side just behind them and also a portion of the street below with the silenced sniper rifle. When she was set up with her eye behind the gun-sight, she waved them on with her arm and a thumbs up.
Daryl was up next. The preternatural silence all around seemed to accentuate the dull moaning sound of the infected beneath them. As the minutes passed, Rick could feel Milton growing increasingly apprehensive beside him. When he laid a hand on Milton's shoulder unexpectedly, it startled him.
"Doctor, relax. This is why we're gonna do it together."
Milton nodded but the fear emanated from him. Before long, he began to physically shake with trepidation.
As Daryl reached the midway point there was a sudden rustling in the treeline behind Carol. Rick and Mamet saw it immediately, Daryl may have as well, but it was obvious the Lieutenant had not. Rick got to his feet suddenly making a rallying gesture with his arm and pointing to it. Carol's head popped up from behind the rifle sight and she turned. Daryl turned first to Rick then back toward Carol once he realized what was happening. As they all watched, two infected, a man and woman, shambled out of the woods. They looked as if they'd been hikers. Dressed in bloodied t-shirts and ragged, dirty shorts with large full packs still strapped to their backs, they staggered forward.
Carol didn't move. There was a possibility that if she remained perfectly still they might not see her but Rick didn't want to take that chance and Daryl clearly didn't either. He moved faster trying to close the distance quietly as he made his way across. Carol rolled onto her back very slowly and pulled something off her hip.
A blade.
"Move NOW," Rick instructed firmly in the doctor's ear, grabbing Mamet by the arm-strap of his backpack and pulling him toward the bridge.
Milton stumbled forward, ungainly as Rick strode to the edge, almost dragging him along.
One of the creatures, the woman, having noticed Dixon hustling across the bridge made for him, walking right past Carol, positioned quietly in the high grass. It walked toward him blindly and quickly missed the second rail-tie falling between them. But with the large hiking pack, it caught itself and hung lodged, arms outstretched between the two ties, effectively arresting Daryl's progress across.
"Careful now, with me," Rick said again trying to find the encouraging voice he used with Carl to teach him how to wait for the perfect pitch to swing at. "We're moving fast and most importantly quietly but we can do it. C'mon."
Milton nodded again nervously taking the same step with Rick onto the first rail-tie. They were at the beginning, Dixon near the end and Peletier in trouble. Rick tried to control his frustration and anxiety with the situation.
Daryl pulled a large bowie knife from his waist, hopping to the rail-tie just before the ones the infected woman hung between. Meanwhile, Carol sat up as the infected man passed her. It was making its way toward the bridge and Daryl as well, attracted by the commotion created by the other. She popped up onto her feet and came up behind it stealthily. But before she could stab it with the knife, it turned on her.
Rick struggled to keep one eye on the traverse with Milton and another on his comrades. "Okay, we're doing good. C'mon now, Doc." He said quietly as they jumped to the next rail-tie. They were nearly midway across the expanse but Mamet kept glancing up. He was increasingly as preoccupied with the chaos blooming around him as Rick was.
The infected woman swiped wildly at Daryl as he attempted to approach it. The noise it was making growing in volume as it growled and the metal plates and utensils that hung from its pack smashed together violently.
"He's got to shut that thing up!" Milton declared frantically.
"He's trying, Dr. Mamet. Just focus on us. Focus on what we're trying to do right here. Keep looking at your feet," Rick said continuing to use his "Carl" voice.
Normally, looking down at the drop between the ties would have been the last thing Rick advised. But if they didn't, it would be easy to misjudge the jump and fall through. Keeping Mamet calm and focused on his feet was the only way they would make it across safely.
The infected hiker turned on Carol viciously, grabbing at her. He was at least twice her size, a formerly burly man with a beard. It reached for the hand the knife was in trying to lower his mouth to bite her. She punched it in the mouth, with her other hand, effectively knocking its face away. Then she kicked at its knee, knocking it to the ground but it pulled her down with it. The knife fell away a few feet from her, as she pitched forward on top of it. Rick, who had been watching as best he could, grabbed the doctor's arm to halt him then.
"Hang on," Rick ordered Mamet, stopping right in the middle of the track.
As Daryl struggled with the logistics of jumping from his tie to the next one where the woman remained lodged without being either bitten or knocked off, Rick pulled out the Beretta he'd confiscated from Milton. If he could get a clear shot, he decided in that moment, he was going to take it. Noise be damned. Both Dixon and Peletier were in trouble.
"NO! They'll hear!" Mamet said terrified, bringing his arm down heavily across Rick's.
The gun went off, the shot wild and loud before flying out of Rick's hand and down through a space a few feet away. Rick could hear it faintly when it clattered and broke across the pavement feet below. The momentum pushed them both forward and Rick had only seconds to try and propel his body to the next tie. He fell across it, the wooden plank striking him hard in the lower ribs and hip, while Milton landed a little short. His chest and upper body bearing the brunt. Rick's body lay across three ties, while Milton hung across one with his feet dangling below him.
"Muthafucker!" Daryl exclaimed turning and jumping across the ties as fast as he could to retrace his steps back to them.
He got to Rick first, reaching to help him up by anchoring himself on a nearby steel girder.
Rick swatted his hand away. "Help Mamet! I'm alright, help Mamet." He held onto the tie across his chest and tried awkwardly to right himself, attempting to rise to his knees, where the other tie was located. Looking down, Rick saw a hundred eyes riveted, looking back up at him and the drama unfolding above them, like a waiting feeding frenzy.
"Oh God, oh god they see us!" Milton squealed seeing the ominous view at nearly the same moment as Rick.
Mamet struggled to right himself and pull his body back up onto the tracks. Daryl hopped toward the tie and gave the doctor his arm.
"Just shut the fuck up and take my hand." Daryl barked.
Rick pushed himself gingerly to his knees. Between the weight of the pack on his back, his previously injured arm and shoulder and the expanse between ties, he realized he wouldn't be able to get further than that without Daryl's help for leverage. He remained quiet, however, looking over his shoulder to make sure Daryl pulled the doctor back up. He strained as gravity tried to drag him back down through the ties. Beads of sweat ran through his hair onto his forehead and then fell down into the unblinking eyes that watched the proceedings intently from below.
Suddenly, there was a flurry of small pops. The infected woman hanging lodged between rail ties slumped forward dead. Rick looked up then, across the tracks to see Carol, free from her assailant, again behind the large caliber gun and killing anything attempting to climb the hill behind them.
He should have known better. Should have known Peletier could handle herself.
Daryl finally came his way and gave him a hand. Between the two of them, with Daryl straddling two ties precariously, they pulled Rick back to his feet. Then he helped Daryl to right himself on a single tie as the doctor stood watching with his good arm wrapped tightly around one of the trestle's steel posts.
Rick looked to him, "Dr. Mamet, you okay?"
Milton nodded shakily, seemingly afraid to even speak now.
"I don't know why we even give a fuck," Daryl muttered under his breath. "This is the second goddamned time today."
"I know, Corporal, I know. But just give him a break, he's not military. I doubt he usually even gets out of his lab." Rick said low and turned his head to face the other direction briefly so that only Dixon could see his mouth move. "We just need to get him there."
"...I swear if anyone else gets hurt 'cuz of him, I'll kill him myself."
Rick turned and slapped Daryl on the back once in consolation before inching over on the tie toward where the doctor stood immobilized. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."
"C'mon, Doctor. It's gonna get thick up here soon." Rick said again, pulling Mamet gently away from the girder. Then he carefully led Milton across the expanse between the first two rail ties closest to him, followed by two more, one at a time until they established a rhythm.
The quiet pops from Carol's gun grew in number affirming Rick's words. He glanced up briefly from concentrating on their footing to note that Dixon had already made it back across the bridge. At that moment, he stood with his back to them, gun raised toward the shrubbery and treeline, watching intently for anything else that might decide to wander out. Daryl's expression was hard and etched with frustration. Rick knew if Daryl could have his way, they'd be depositing the doctor on the laboratory's doorstep before immediately heading back to Rwanda to collect their people. Rick sighed heavily as he continued to help Mamet slowly across. If he was perfectly honest with himself, Rick knew he didn't actually feel much different. His heart and mind were already a continent away. Still, there was a task to accomplish and he was damn well gonna do it.
Dixon had been quick to tally Dr. Mamet's fatal errors and Rick realized then, he was actually doing the same...only it was with his own.
