A/N: Updating three chapters at once. Please, be warned.
Enjoy.
XXVIII.
It never ended. They would never catch a breath.
Rick ran over to the staircase out of the basement, limping on his good leg as fast as he could, the gun who had taken from Lizzie already in his hand, as he was still out of bullets for his Colt Python. A way ahead of him, having quicker feet like always, Amanda was already climbing the steps. "Beth—" she cried over, taking the last step to the corridor, and looked around with wild eyes, swiveling around herself as Rick stepped beside her, "Beth—" she cried out again.
There were no walkers inside—not yet, but Rick could hear the tale-tell snarls and growls outside the entrance. The wooden door was shaking at its frame, and he knew it wasn't going to take long before it broke. There were two chairs propped against it to hold it, Beth or Carl must've done it before they ran away, but Rick still knew it wasn't going to hold.
He got closer to the door and peeked outside from the panel glass, pulling back the white shade, and if the ringing clamor of snarl and growls from outside hadn't already made it certain, his quick look would've done it… Walkers… more than two dozen, up to thirty perhaps…all herded at the porch—throwing themselves at the door, instinctively knowing the fresh food was inside.
How—the question popped out of his mind—even though he also knew it was naught to ask those questions as well…dead always were out there, waiting to slip through the door and claim them.
But he'd also made a full perimeter check—had walked over the lawn, gone through the tree lines, and hadn't even seen a lone walker. Where they had come from? He shook his head. It didn't matter. Not now. They were here. He turned to Amanda, "Find kids," he told her, his voice roughing again for different reasons, knowing this was the exact thing he'd been fearing, "They must've gone to the back door. I'll pull the couch to barricade the door."
She nodded, quickly sprinting towards the back, calling out with agitated whispers, "Beth—Carl—"
It wasn't a big house, but it was big enough, and soon as he was moving out the couch out of the memorial hall, he lost her agitated, panicked voice, too. The only sounds now were snarls and growls from the outside, and Rick wanted to hit something—wanted to open the door and kill those bastards… Just one night, all he had been asking was just one night without any…complications further, just a quiet night in which he—he could've tried to make things a bit better.
He'd talked with Amanda. It hadn't gone as anything he would've thought of going but that always had been the case with Amanda Shepherd—everything, every talk with her ended up bizarre and complicated. But they'd found a common ground. He knew they had—at least until she'd pulled away from him at the last moment just before Beth had called out—but they had.
God! All he'd been asking was a quiet night, perhaps a few more kisses, and knowing that she was safe and beside him, knowing that his whole family was safe and beside him. He hadn't been asking anything more than that, but even those little things were a luxury now.
He pushed the couch angry with…their lives and started rushing toward the back door just as the moment the door shook out of it hinges, trembling violently, and the glass panel shattered with a loud clank. Over his shoulders, as Rick ran back, he saw rotten, sickly purple hands pushing through the broken glass.
He found them all at the second hall where the back door was—smaller and narrower than the first one, and Rick shook his head, hearing the snarls and growls, as well.
"We're surrounded!" Carl cried out with the same agitation as Rick turned to Amanda, and despite what was happening, the sight in front of him halted his steps.
Mika was beside her, almost holding her leg now as she looked terrified, her eyes moist with tears as Judith was in Amanda's arms, crying loudly as his poor baby girl was sensing the trouble, much like them, too, and Amanda was trying to hush her down. Granted, it wasn't the first time he'd seen her with Judy as they played with her with Beth, but not like this. He knew Amanda was very good with kids, but the way she held Judy screamed off familiarity, and the way Judy held her back too—as if…as if they'd been doing it for a long time—Judith never held anyone she wasn't familiar with in that way... Rick knew her baby.
And the scene surprised him even further—perhaps even more than walkers surrounding them, because slowly—Judith's sheer cries quell down and soon calming down his baby girl stopped crying as Amanda brought her closer over her chest, whispering into her ear as her hand made light gentle strokes across his baby girl's back.
Rick stared at her as she looked around everywhere but him—holding the baby, hiding her face behind her neck, "This—how this happened?" she questioned, still turned aside from him, looking Beth and Carl.
Beth shook her head, "We—we didn't understand," she said, as Rick walking to the window, checked outside again. At the first count, he picked up a dozen or so walkers out too, trying to reach out to the little four steps that climbed up to the back door. "There was this dog Daryl fed last night—we found it in the yard when we first came. Daryl gave him pig's feet. We heard the cans we'd put up clutter, and Carl went to check out. It was the same dog. We wanted to give him food again—but suddenly walkers came up. We closed the door at the last minute, Carl placed two chairs and we ran back here."
Rick nodded, but Amanda shook her head, "It's Gorman!" she seethed out, "I know that dog. He feeds that dog." She paused, giving the calmed baby back to Beth, "It's him! He's here—" And there was that look in her eyes again, eyes glistened with a green fire, "This stink him!" She drew out her gun, "I'm gonna kill that sonofabitch this time! Rip off his—"
"Amanda—" he cut her off with a snap, sending at her a look, clear enough, and she read it as well, and completed her words with a seething hiss instead.
"Don't forget what you just promised me—" he warned her. They wouldn't die on each other, and Rick had made her promise exactly for situations like these—where, losing her shit, she would've run away to do…something stupid. "We need to get outta here—" he said then, his words were for all of them this time, but he tossed at her another look to make sure to whom he'd meant them truly.
"How?" Carl asked, and repeated, "We're surrounded, dad."
Rick shook his head, "The main entrance won't hold long. The glass panel already broke. We need to leave." He paused, "Okay—" He breathed out, and pointed at the window at the back side of the room with his hand, "I'll try to make out of the window and draw them away from the door—so you could leave," he told them, but Carl stopped him again.
"I'm coming with you. You're injured."
Rick started shaking his head, but Amanda cut his gesture, "He's right," she whispered at him fiercely, "You can't do it alone. You need help. And I can't leave Judith and Mika. Take Carl. Beth stays with me."
Rick gave them another look, a part of him still wanting to say no—he didn't want to risk Carl's life anymore, but he also knew they were right. He might need help out there, and his son was his best bet now.
But— "You let me protect the fence before—" Carl reminded him, marching toward him, "I want to fight!"
That his boy did, and Rick felt proud again, even though he was worried—but it was also the way of things—to stay alive, they all had to fight. Rick nodded, albeit reluctantly as Carl took out his gun. Rick shook his head. "No," he told Carl, "gunshots would draw the others to here from in front of the house. We need to do this quiet."
If only they had silencers. Another wish for naught. They had nothing, running for their lives. He tried not to think how it was going to be out in the woods at night with a baby, or where was Daryl, how they were going to find each other again… All those were questions for another time now. Now, they had to do this—stay alive.
He opened the window. Built on a hillside, funeral home must've had an elevation difference that they'd levelled it at the construction, but the back of the room was facing the hill, having an altitude that was going to make the drop at the ground was—fun. Leaning over the window, he checked the height—three or so foot…With his already injured leg and other wounds, this was going to suck.
Walking toward him, Amanda stood beside the window, and with one look down, she shook her head. "No—you can't make the jump with your leg. It's too high."
Rick gave her a half nod in return, almost dismissive, and a bit snappish by the lack of her confidence in him—he didn't…like it. He always did what had to be done. Protect them at all cost. She should've already realized that by now. He—he wanted her to trust him to keep them safe. "It's okay—" he grumbled out, "I got it."
"Rick—" she told him pointedly, her eyes glinting again, and reminded him back, "You promised me too."
There was a sudden silence between them as they shared a look, only disturbed by snarls and growls, but with the corner of his eyes, Rick picked up Carl. His eyes narrowed, his son was giving them a look, too, a look Rick found himself not knowing what to do.
He cleared out his throat, and this was the worst time—the worst time to have a…moment like this… and seeing Carl's stare, Amanda took a step back, as if she'd realized it as well—and quickly nodded, "Uh, 'kay. I—I'll check Beth—" she said, hurriedly turning to walk back to the girl.
Rick swallowed, peeked out from the window, and started climbing at the windowsill, as Carl stared at Amanda's back, then asked, turning to him, "Dad—what was that about?"
"Nothing—" he muttered, perched at the window, looking below. No walkers in sight. Small mercies.
"That didn't sound like nothing—" Carl said in return crisply, still looking at him standing beside the window, "What did you promise to each other, dad?"
God! This was the worst time, worst time to have this conversation! "Nothing—" Rick repeated with the same crispness, and finally looked at his son, "You coming or not?"
Carl gave him a last look, his eyes still narrowed, but without another word started climbing at the window as well.
# # #
As of the moment Amanda wanted to slap herself mad!
What the hell she was doing? Why she always turned things into a mess, she had no idea.
She walked back to Beth as fast as she could manage, feeling Carl's eyes boring through her back—and really—really? Had she lost it completely? Doing that in front of Carl, having a moment in front of a teenager who had lost his mother a few months ago… God, how she could even think there would've been something between her and Rick?
What they would tell a fourteen years old boy who still had his own problems with his father—who was trying to make out in this shitty, godawful world, who had lost her mother possibly in some kind of a disaster—Amanda wasn't stupid. Rick's wife death had turned all of them—drama queens in their own ways. She didn't know the story, but she knew Rick wasn't the only one who had lost his shit with his wife's death.
Carl had that thing with him—sometimes she got even scared for the boy, likewise Rick, the way she caught him looking—with that cold, distant contempt and dissatisfaction and bitterness, and hate against the whole world, against everything, and she knew that look all too well. She'd caught it inside her own eyes too many times to count. But he wasn't a lost boy, either, she knew that, too. Sometimes he was still just a child like the time she'd hung him at his ankles, just a teenager like they all had been, trying to grow up.
But Carl wasn't like them. They'd never suffered in their adolescence the way he was—even her own adolescence must've been a picnic next to his, and in her book, that was saying quite a much.
Seriously—what she'd been thinking? That she was going to fuck his father merrily in front of a mourning child, stomping all over the memory of his mother like nothing!
And—Rick—he was going to do what? Having something with her—like nine months after his wife's certainly tragic death? That was it—? And what was she? His band-aid for his mourning process? The clean bandage over his wounds to heal him back to his health?
God! She knew what happened to bandages! They always got disposed of, thrown away, after they did their job, fulfilling their purpose. But then again you didn't walk over a loaded gun for…a bandage. You didn't risk it that way. Rick didn't risk it that way.
How—how she had managed to put herself into this mess? How?
What happened to her?
What the hell had happened?
She should've just left—looked for Gorman. That was what she should've done—not this—whatever this was.
She stopped in front of Beth and looked at Mika who was standing close to Beth now. She knelt in front of the kid, "Mika, you'll do exactly what we say, 'kay?" she told the child, "When we say run, you run. When we say hide, you hide. Do you remember our classes from the prison?"
Mika nodded, "Yes, Amanda."
"Good. It's the same. It's only a bit more dangerous. But we're here, and we'll protect you—" she tried to assure her, hoping they would manage to do a much better job with it then how they had protected her sister, but Mika had never made a case of it, as well, as if…as if she also knew.
Amanda just didn't know what to think anymore—so many things happened so fast—Rick had been right about that. She understood much better now why he had wanted to wait. It just never ended. They just couldn't catch a breath… She wondered if their days was always going to be like this now…always at a razor-sharp edge… She always knew they'd never truly be safe. She never took anything for granted, since her childhood she knew anything could happen to anyone—but she—she was tired now.
The loss of the prison hit her again hard—cutting deeply, and if it were like this for her, she couldn't even think of how it was for them—for Beth, for Carl, for Rick. For a moment or so, she wished he'd been here, wished she could've rested her head on his shoulder like she'd done as he held her in his embrace, gently stroking her hair…
She stopped herself.
This—this wasn't doing it…she—she sounded like a loser even in her damn mind—looking affections from a guy who was still in love with another. How pathetic was that?
But then again, he had—affections for her as well, feelings—enough to make him to walk over a gun for her, his reasons debatable.
I hope this has clarified my intentions clearly, Amanda—he'd told her, but as of the moment, she didn't feel clear about anything at all.
Only much more complicated.
They—they shouldn't have done this—never had opened that can of worms—that was Pandora's box—had to stay close. Instead, he had, and everything had turned worse. She wished they could've gone back to pretend nothing was happening, but it was too late for that now.
Maybe she had been right. If they'd started this, maybe they just should finish it—go all way down. Have sex.
Perhaps she'd been really right. There was this tension between them from the start, and not having sex sometimes complicated things either, you always desired what you didn't have. Perhaps—perhaps…their…affections were really playing on them because they were denying them…
Would they do it but? Would they take the risk?
She shook her head. The prospect scared her more than anything else—and instinctively she knew if they had sex it would've turned even worse…
And as if on a cue, as the thought crossed her mind—the images assaulted her—not…as innocent as before—they weren't sleeping this time—nor he was holding Judith in his arms—or smiling at her warmly—no…he was fucking her—over metal slab where they'd kissed a couple of minutes ago—fucking her senseless—raw and feral, just like the way he fought—like an animal—and that throbbing need in her insides clawed at her again—deep in her core, burning her—
She forced the imaginary away, giving out a shaking breath, her hands trembling.
She was losing it—definitely losing it.
She ran her still trembling hand over her face… She couldn't do this. It was just too much, damn too much. Insane. She wasn't like this. She stayed the fuck away from drama.
For fuck's sake, there were fucking rotters outside who wanted to rip them apart!
"Amanda—" Beth called out at her, sensing her off, and she snapped her attention back to the younger girl as if she was caught, "You okay?" Beth asked.
Okay?
She was far from being okay, but that wouldn't do either. They didn't have the luxury of being not okay. They got priorities. She had Judith and Mika who she had to protect, and Beth who she had to keep her back, as well. So, maybe, Rick's…solution was really the best—postponing everything until a more…suitable time, if it ever came, that was it.
"Yeah—" she answered, moving closer toward the door to check it out. Rotters were still out there, of course, and it would be really nice if they left the house like now. She heard the snarls louder and louder from the front side of the house as she stood still, listening to it. She shook her head, turning to Beth.
"We don't have much time left," she stated, and gave out a breath, "Get ready."
Then that moment, she heard the shouts. She peeked outside again and finally saw Rick and Carl waving their arms towards rotters frantically to draw them away from their exit route, screams echoing in the air. Even from afar, Amanda could see blood stains over them, and knew they had run trouble. She wondered what had happened, what kind of disasters still waited them outside, where was Daryl, but they were still alive, and it was all that mattered. Priorities—it was all about priorities.
A couple of rotters started moving away at first shouts, and Amanda didn't lose any more time after then. She heard the front door crack with a load groan at the same time, and snarls and growls echoed in the house—
Good timing, indeed!
"Quick!" she cried out, "Beth—get my back, Mika between us. Take Judith from Beth." She glanced back over her shoulder as they took the position, "Beth, don't hesitate, don't fear," she told the girl, trying to keep her voice clear, "Just shoot. We got this."
She had always wanted the eighteen years old to have real experience, and this was her chance as well. At least Amanda tried to think it in such a way, like—like a field trip—to teach her to do this properly. Amanda always knew her…cadets needed life-time experience, the exercises behind a safety net could never be the same, and well, she got her wish.
Be careful what you wish for, indeed.
She opened the door and kicked the first rotter trying to get to her, stabbing the head. They only needed to clear a path now as the backside of their herd was drawing away toward the clamor Rick and Carl were doing.
Beth threw another away from herself, and they took the first step. She made a move to shout at Beth to close the door, too, but a look over her shoulder made it quite clear that they couldn't turn back. The door broken, more rotters were coming from the corridor, and they were getting circled.
Ahead of them, she saw Rick and Carl fighting with another herd now, much like Beth and her, back to back, but it meant they weren't going to come for them— This—this was madness!
When all these rotters had come!
It was Gorman! She knew it! He—he'd done this. Somehow learned they were here, laid a trap for them, then brought rotters upon them. And they'd fallen into his trap like a fly caught on a net.
And she'd done it—again… She'd made them walk into a trap, made Daryl bring them into it—knowing damn well Gorman and his pal might've been around—knowing exactly how it would've ended it.
It was all her damn fault!
Whenever she tried to do the right thing, somehow, she always managed to fuck it up tremendously. She could never do anything right. Never.
Gorman— If only she managed to find the fucking bastard and kill him before she was done herself, too. Then her life wouldn't have gone for naught—perhaps it would've even had a meaning—something she always found in herself lacking.
Yeah, she really would've liked killing the sonofabitch before she took her last breath—but there was no Gorman around, only rotters, so she did the damn next best thing, she killed as many as rotters as she could—trying to open up a path for Beth—or thought perhaps if she somehow managed to get Judith and Mika under her as she got devoured perhaps she could've saved them—
All those funny things your brain cooked up out of desperation… "Beth—" she called out—she…she had to give them a chance—open up a path… "Beth—I'm gonna pull—"
"No—!" Beth screamed back, cutting her off, "No! We do this together!"
But they couldn't do it together. They could only die together now—and it wasn't going well with Amanda.
"Beth—" so she said with her best cop voice—but before she could make another word a gunshot echoed in the air—and another followed—tearing off silence of the night… She lifted her head up, circled with rotters, and saw Rick shooting in the air to draw the dead away from them as they were still circled with others—and by one by they turned and started limping away toward them-!
"GO!" Rick shouted at them, "GO NOW!"
No words leaving her, Amanda shook her head, but quickly stabbed two rotters closest to her and pulled Beth and Mika out of the rotters' path. She saw him fighting with Carl too to send him away. The fucking idiot—the fucking, stupid, heroic idiot, giving his life away so they could live…
She wanted to scream at him he'd promised—promised her he wasn't going to die on her, but she couldn't even do that now.
"AMANDA—GO! TAKE THEM—" he screamed at her again, "DON'T LOOK BACK!"
Carl started running as well after his last command, and she closed her eyes for a second, and realized that her tears had started leaking. "RUN!" she heard him yell, and her eyes opened, as his voice vibrated in her insides. Priorities—they got them, and now Rick needed her to do that.
Swiftly, she swept up Judith from Mika, and repeated his last order, "Run! Don't look back—"
"Amanda—" Beth made a sound, but she cut her off, started running over the trees after Carl.
"Just run, Beth—just run."
# # #
They ran almost a half of an hour in the dark woods before they stopped—their lungs on fire, their eyes burning, their hands, clothes, face and hair all covered with blood, but they'd run. She was crying—openly—all of them—they'd run and cried—like they should have.
Carl dropped at a tree root, folding his legs over his chest, wrapping his arms around them, and his head rested over his knees—his face hidden. His shoulders shook as he cried, his sobs muffled behind his elbows. Beth was the same beside him, her hand holding Mika's, her shoulders shaking as she cried. Amanda stood over them, Judith in her arms.
She—she wanted to drop on her knees and cried out her heart as well. She wanted to scream, yell—all at the same time—she wanted to curse the fate—curse any god who was listening to them—and she wanted to ask why?
Why it had to be him?
But she couldn't do them—not now—not when he'd sacrificed himself so they could live—and Amanda was not going to make his sacrifice go naught. No! He needed her to do this.
They were going to live tonight. She—she would mourn tomorrow—not now, not tonight. She couldn't do this to him.
Judith started crying at that moment, as if sending them a message. Get yourself back together. She hopped the baby in her arms, feeling incredibly sad—another orphan baby girl in this cruel, sick, godawful world.
But still—she got her. Judith wasn't alone. None of them was alone. Amanda was still here. They still got her. "We—w-we need to f-find a p-place to pass the n-night—" she stuttered the words, her voice wavering with her own sobs, despite her resolution.
And none of them made a sound, didn't even give her a glance.
She shook her head, took a breath to clear her voice, "We—we need to go. We're not safe," Amanda insisted, talking carefully, keeping her voice clear and steady. They—the kids needed her. She had to pull herself back together. But again no one made a sound, even Mika sat beside Beth, her little head bowed.
Amanda walked over them closer, hushing the baby girl, "Get up!" she hissed at them, her voice now wavering fierce, a fire burning in her, giving her strengthen, "All of you! Now!" Her fierce command finally got their attention, "He wanted us to live," he told them, looking at them directly in the eye, "We owe him that! We owe him to stay alive."
Carl looked at her, and shook his head, "He always told us we could never be safe—"
"And he was right—" Amanda said back, and nodded at them again, "We're still together, we still got each other. Get up now." She swallowed, "Tonight we live, tomorrow we cry."
Carl stood up, tears still in his eyes as he looked at her, "You talked like Dad."
Amanda only nodded in answer, couldn't say anything else—but knew—a part of him was always going to live with her—always—the part that had whispered at her to stay safe.
She lifted her head up to look at the sky—bright stars shining above them, moon lightening their path, and it came to her so cruel—such a beauty in a world like this—starshine, moonlight—they didn't belong with their world now. They just didn't. You promised me—she passed in her mind, but pushed the thought away. Tomorrow—she was going to mourn, cry, even get angry at him for dying on her, but tomorrow.
A lone walker came through the trees to her left, and she slowly walked to it—and stabbed in at the head.
Walking back, she tried to think of a plan—a way to pass the night. If only they could find a cabin in the woods or barn or something—a roof over their heads, or a big tree with a big hollow trunk inside to hid Judith inside, at least. She would even be okay with that for now.
They—they had nothing. Nothing.
But they still got each other, she told herself.
She checked a couple of trees and found a hollow inside in one of them. Amanda made a nest-bed with fallen leaves inside, and they placed Judith in there after she'd fallen asleep in her arms.
Perhaps they had to stay here as well, wandering in the woods in night was never safe, and she was never good in the woods, either. If they all managed to live tonight, she was going to be the best fucking tracker in the world, she promised herself. She owed Rick that, as well. She was going to do whatever it took to keep his kids safe.
She turned to Carl and Beth, standing up. "We can stay here for the night, I guess—" she told them, "I—uh—I've got no idea where we're—and I don't want to risk it again. We try to set up a perimeter—and—"
A twig crunched behind them, and they all turned back at the same time—holding their guns—trained ahead—and then they saw it.
A lone figure—slowly limping at them, covered with all blood, his face red and dirty, pieces of eaten flesh falling over him, and even with all blood, they all had recognized its clothes.
No… No… Please, god, no!
Beth cried out, started crying again as he limped toward them, his one arm rising toward Carl, and Amanda ran her hand over her face, trembling. Carl—his face ashen and grey—tears stains over his cheek—swallowed loudly, then took a few steps as he raised his hand slowly—his gun trained at his head—
Amanda walked toward the boy. He couldn't do this—She couldn't let him do it. "Carl—no—gunshots—" he told the boy, her tears broke, too, "And it can't be you—" She gulped, "It—it can't—"
The walking dead once they knew as Rick Grimes limped toward them closer, his body facing at Carl, as if he still—knew—could still recognize his son… Amanda blinked away her tears, pulled out her knife, and started walking toward him to end it…
But it rasped out—growled… a word… a name… "Carl—"
As her hand dropped like a heavy stone, Amanda stared ahead.
# # #
Rick took another limping step, and her arm dropped, and she stared at him—
Carl fell on his knees, as like Beth—and Rick took another step, pain cutting through him again, "It's—it's me—" he rasped out with difficulty, every breath he took hurting him further, his wounds probably had opened again. He was covered with walkers' blood, guts, and entrails, but he'd made sure nothing was touching his skin—he hoped.
He stopped beside Carl and dropped on the ground as well. He held his son's shoulder, and brought him closer, hugging him with his arm, resting his forehead on his… He thought—he thought… he thought… "Carl—" he forced out rasping, a tight lump in his throat.
"Dad?" Carl whispered back, "I—I thought—" he roughed out, "We—saw—how?"
"Miracle?" he asked back, it really came to him like a miracle now, sitting down, "Do you have water?" he asked, turning to Amanda.
She had a look over her face—disbelief and shock turning her skin so pale. He hated doing this to her, too, hated that she'd had to live through this… She shook her head, wordlessly.
Rick nodded, and swallowed again, "I shot two of them with my last bullets and killed another one with my knife," he started explaining, breathing laboriously, "They fell over me, protected me from others. I pulled back under them, used their entrails to cover myself before I did." He waved a hand over himself, "I was coming after you, but their weight got my wounds worse. Couldn't catch you. I saw your prints, so tracked them instead."
His eyes wandered over them, checking them, "Y'all okay?" he asked.
Carl and Beth nodded wordless, Beth holding Mika, and his eyes found Amanda—and she looked so beautiful under the faint moonlight despite everything, so…alive. Rick remembered the moment he'd seen her inside the warehouse, laughing with him, and for a second, he just wanted to kiss her—kiss her a long, long while, savoring each moment his lips would taste hers, each second his tongue would clash with hers.
And he—he wanted to do much more than that, too. He wanted to take her under him and just had her right now right there, taste all of her, bury himself in her depths, and stare at her eyes while doing it—making her sure they were doing it—but he couldn't do any of this, as she was still looking at him like she'd seen a ghost, and there was Carl…who had started watching them again with that look, too.
She nodded, and she asked with a voice so small, "You?"
He smiled at her briefly, "Have been better—" He let out a groan, "Where's Judith?" he asked then, suddenly realizing he couldn't see her— Frightened, he made a move to stand up, and rasped out, "Where's she?"
Amanda rushed at him and held him tightly at his upper arms. She pulled him back at the ground, "She's okay—" she told him, and pointed behind a tree, "There's a tree hollow there. I put her inside."
Ah.
Relief washing over him, he nodded, "'kay—" He stopped and wandered his look all over them again, "You—we need to cover you up, too. This—this wouldn't do like this."
Amanda stared at him, "What do you mean?"
Rick sighed out, "I mean we need a walker."
# # #
Bizarre, strange, crazy wouldn't even have covered up how the night had turned out—all of her thoughts twirling over her mind like a whirlwind, but she—she let go over the current this time, ran on waves instead, let them carry her—whatever the weird situation they were going to have.
She was—just too fucking tired—too fucking relieved—seeing him again breathing and alive. After her initial shock had worn off, she—she'd just wanted to crush him into a hug, holding him fiercely, assaulting his face with kisses, so glad that he was alive—alive. He hadn't died on her—like he'd promised.
And she really fucking wished they would've been alone, so she could've showed him how much she was glad, but they hadn't been alone, so she could've only stared at him like a statue. Now Carl and Beth were still with them, Mika sleeping inside tree's hollow, too, now, and in front of them there was the rotter she'd killed before.
Rick bent down and cut it in half, and motioned them with his head, "C'mon—do it."
She looked at the decaying corpse, shaking her head as both Carl and Beth bent down and pushed their hands through it—making faces as they went through it, and Amanda knew it wasn't the first time they did this.
Rick gestured at her with his head then, "C'mon, you too—" he told her, and with a sigh, Amanda crouched beside the rotter, too.
The things they did to stay alive.
Holding her breath, rising up her chin, she pushed her hands through the rotter's belly, too, her fingers getting tightening over his entrails… Smell—god—smell—she gagged as it hit her—and almost threw up as her head turned, but kept going.
She took her hands out and smeared pieces of guts between her fingers over herself—turning her head aside, still gagging…
Do you have any idea what is like to be on the road? he asked her in her mind again like this morning, and Amanda realized he'd been right. She'd thought she had known—but she hadn't. Not really.
She lifted her eyes at him as he watched them smearing her hands more over her white tee—and it was really getting chilly, she just realized, too…as if—as if mundane things like cold had only managed to register at her. Both Beth and Carl were having their jackets, as Amanda had left hers inside the house, and seeing her shivering, without a word, Rick took his out and gave it to her, stinking with rotters' blood and guts.
Wordless, Amanda took it and wore it over her tee. She smelled his scent—as faint as underneath all other awful, gagging smells, a scent just was of his, and it felt—nice. It reminded her his embrace, the way his arms held her tightly.
She swallowed tightly, leaning again to take another handful of rotting flesh and entrails, as Rick did the same too, to cover his clean shirt underneath the jacket, and inside the corpse their fingers touched at each other. Their head lifted as their eyes caught at each other, and still inside the dead body, Rick held her hand and gave it a brief squeeze before he pulled his out.
Her heartbeat fastening, Amanda took out her hands too, and continued smearing guts all over herself.
# # #
When they were finally alone, Rick guessed it was around the midnight—Carl and Beth sleeping beside the tree, making a barrier for the kids.
Rick would've really liked to have a rope and a few cans to set up a perimeter, but they got nothing. Amanda came beside him as Rick sat a few feet away from the tree, staring ahead to catch up anything—living or dead coming, but so far, for once things weren't working against them.
Today was just another long day.
He wished tomorrow would be better, but he'd learned not to keep his hopes up in these days.
She sat down beside him in silence, watching ahead the tree line, then shook her head, "What are we going to do, Rick?" she asked after a while in a whisper, turning aside to him, "Do you think we could find Daryl?"
Rick shook his head, "I guess we have a better chance of him finding us—" he told her back. Daryl was the best tracker he'd always known. If Rick could've found them, Daryl would've found hem surely.
"But we can't wait here—" Amanda whispered again fiercely, "It's too dangerous! And we got nothing. Judith—Judith needs formula—food."
He nodded, "I know—" He gave out a loaded sigh, "Tomorrow—" he told her, "Remember what you told me last night—walking out of the prison—?" he asked, skipping a look at her.
And she did, Rick got it from the way she sighed as well, "A problem for tomorrow—" she said back, "I know."
Rick nodded, and they lapsed into another in silence, and it was almost funny how they couldn't talk to each other despite they had a shitload of stuff to talk about—
"Those rotters—" Amanda broke the silence a few minutes later, still staring ahead, "It—it wasn't something natural," she said, her words almost on fire, "I still think it was Gorman."
Holding back another sigh, he twisted his head to give a look at her, "And where is he now, Amanda?" he questioned, "Why would've they taken all that trouble with walkers and let us go?" He shook his head, "It doesn't make sense."
"I don't know—" she said in return, "But—"
He shook his head again, "Amanda—please—" he told her then, turning to her fully, and held her eyes, "Please. We're all here now. That's what matters."
She paused, looking at him, and swallowed, "I know—" she admitted, and paused again, "I—I was so—scared, Rick—" She heaved out a shaking breath, "I thought—I thought—" Unable to finish, she stopped, and Rick saw tears shining in her eyes again as she shook her head, but when she talked the next the fire was back in her tone, her glistened eyes were lit as well, "Don't you dare to do that to me ever—ever again!"
Looking at her back, he smiled at her, touching at her cheek, "I won't. I promise."
She nodded, still glaring at him— "Good—" she roughed out, and she looked so beautiful—so alive—even all covered with walkers' guts and blood. He scooted closer to her, like he was drawn to—drawn to her—his eyes on hers, and he leaned forward, angling his head and caught her lips. He started kissing her, carefully—slowly, only their lips touching—She returned his kiss the way he did, slowly—carefully—then it built up—the fire in them—and he leaned forward fully—not even caring all the entrails and blood over them… He wanted her—he wanted her badly. He wanted her now.
He pushed her backwards—making his intention clear—all the while in his mind, the common sense screamed at him he should stop—but—but he almost died tonight—he'd thought he had died tonight—and she was here—so beautiful, so alive… And he wanted her. He wanted her like he'd never wanted someone for a long, long a while…
Her back hit at the ground—and he started climbing over her—their lips never breaking up their contact—still kissing hungrily—desperately—
Then in the silence of the woods something cracked—crunched—
They both stopped—frozen—and Rick jerked up his head—checking out perimeters—as Amanda lifted her head up from the ground—a few fallen leaves tangled into her locks—and Carl turned around—and they heard the cracking sound again as he did in the silence—
Rick pulled back off her—straightening up as Amanda drew up, too—and they both stared ahead—not making any sound, but beside him, he saw her hands tremble as she breathed out shaky.
She shook her head, and leaves fell over her hair over her shoulders, and a part of him wanted to reach out and sweep them off over her—but this time he kept his hands to himself. "I'm sorry—" he whispered then, staring ahead in the darkness.
Amanda shook her head again, looking at ahead as well, "What—what are we doing, Rick?" she asked, her eyes skipping at his, "I mean—really?"
Rick tried to find a suitable answer, tried to find the correct answer, tried to find the right answer, but at the end he realized he could only give her the only thing he had, the truth. "I—I don't know, Amanda—" so he told her, and giving her a side look, he caught her eyes, too, "I told you we couldn't figure out this now."
She made out a little scoff, "And aren't you always right, Rick?"
He gave out at her a little noncommittal sound, too, in answer, "I know this's hard for you, too," he remarked then, and turning his eyes away, he bowed his head, and placed his hands over his knees, his voice so tight and strained, words leaving him with difficulty, but he had to.
They—they had to have this talk, as well. "And I know I'm not making it easier, either," he confessed. Not him, nor his…issues, and he knew if they were going to do this, more was going to follow.
"If—if you wouldn't want to do it," so he continued, "I understand." He lifted his head back, and looked at her directly in the eye, "So I'm gonna ask this only once, Amanda," he stated, "If you say yes, we'll never mention it again, and we'll pretend whatever happened between us in these last two days had never happened." He paused, and swallowed the tightness over his throat before he finally asked, "Do you—do you want us to stop?"
She didn't answer him first, only gave him a look back, then slowly stated, "We hardly started anything, Rick."
"We were almost having sex a few minutes ago, Amanda—" he retorted, his brows drawn together, "You know what it means."
Again, she looked at him searchingly, "But your wife—You still love her."
And that wasn't even a question, but a statement. Rick nodded, giving out a sigh, "Lori and I—we—we had a very…complicated relationship, but yes, Amanda, I still love her," he told her truthfully. He—he still did—it was hard to explain. Despite everything… Lori…she was his wife… "She was my wife—" he said then, swallowing, "I should've protected her, kept her safe, but I wouldn't have. And I'll always have to live with that."
"And Carl?" she asked further, gesturing backward with her head where Carl slept, "We both saw him today."
In answer, Rick nodded, too. "No. He—he wouldn't take it well, I guess."
She nodded, as well, but her frown had grown wider. "And within good reasons—" she snapped back, her voice turning catty, "I mean, his father has started having hots for another woman after—" She paused, giving him a nasty look with narrowed eyes, "Sorry—how long have passed since your wife's death?" she asked snappish, tilting her head aside, "Nine months, give or take, I guess?"
He glared at her, "And how long have you waited to slap this at my face, Amanda?"
"Well, I don't know, Rick—" she shot back, "You—you're giving away mixed signals. You act like she was the love of your life, but here we are, just after nine months of her death, having this conversation." She paused, and muttered, shaking her head, "I—I don't understand."
He knew she wasn't lying, even Rick could hardly understand—And for a moment or so he even thought of telling her what had happened—between Lori and him, and Lori and Shane—Judith—even Carl… But… it was—it was just…too much… and she always said she liked things simple. He gave out a sigh then, and said… "I told you we had a very…complicated relationship."
She snorted lightly, "Now, that was an elusive answer, Rick."
"Well, Amanda, you haven't still answered my question, either—" he shot back, turning to her, and asked directly again, "Do you want us to stop?"
She let out a huff, shaking her head again, then stood up and started walking away.
"That was a yes or no?" he whispered after her back.
She turned on her heels, and gave him a look, "That," she answered, "was a 'I don't know. Ask me the next time', Rick."
With that, she turned again, and resumed her walking, all covered with blood and guts. Turning ahead, Rick continued to stare at the dark, and thought—perhaps it was the best answer he could get at the moment.
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