November 4, 2010
The steadily cooler days at the end of October make Alex eye the mountains. It's Georgia, so the likelihood of snow like she saw in a childhood of Army bases is unlikely. But colder weather means needing to heat the house. The fireplaces in the bed and breakfast are nice enough, and firewood's free and easy for gathering. But the remoteness here, with seeing no living humans since traveling so far north, makes Alex question whether or not it's a smart idea to stay with winter creeping in.
Leaning on the sturdy and reinforced wooden privacy fence, Alex mulls over her disquiet from a perch on top of the firewood they have stacked against it.
There's a warm hand at the small of her back. "You okay?"
She turns, smiling at Rick as he looks concerned. "Oddly restless, and I don't know why. Part of my brain keeps saying being near the mountains in winter is a bad idea. I think it's an older habit of not being from Georgia that's hardwired that winter equals snow."
Rick chuckles and climbs the wood pile himself to join her. "Half of your life here, and you're still not thinking of snow as magical like Georgians do?"
"After living in both Alaska and a base near Lake Ontario, no, snow isn't a magic unicorn for me." She laughs softly. "There's a reason I stayed in Georgia after college. I like snow being something I see on vacation. And even if we get no snow at all here, it's going to be cold."
"Maybe you need a beach in Florida."
"Maybe. Would it be weird to want to move further south? We've got a good setup here, but there's just five of us. I'm guessing no survivors headed for the mountains." They can't be all that's left. If nothing else, there should be scraps of the military remaining. Not everyone would have gone out in the field, like that friend that alerted Alex's boss.
"Once we start running out of canned goods, being further south would be a good idea." Rick looks thoughtful. "My mother sold it, after my father died, but my family used to have a house on the coast, down south of Savannah. There's a whole chain of islands down there, from Florida up the coast. Some are resort developed, but others aren't even populated."
"So it wouldn't be a brand new area for us to wander into?" Part of what stays Alex's need to leave is that she isn't sure about taking Duane into the complete unknown based on her own uneasy feeling about winter.
"I haven't been down there in about six or seven years, but it would be easy enough to circle out around Savannah and avoid any walker populations there."
"Think Morgan and Jenny would want to leave this place?"
"We never planned on it being permanent. I think it just became easier not to leave since we didn't have any goal in mind to aim for. We'll ask them at supper." Rick reaches out and grimaces when he takes her hand, rubbing at the chilled skin. "And you should remember it's getting too cold to be outside without an extra layer now."
Alex glances at Rick, dressed no warmer than she is in a long sleeved flannel shirt over a thin t-shirt, but he just gives her a sheepish smile while taking her other hand to warm it too. "C'mon, Alex. Mountains aren't going to suddenly dump a foot of snow on us if you don't watch them."
Apparently, Morgan's been having a building unease the same as Alex. He's from south Georgia, and the mountains are pretty to visit, in his opinion, not to live next door to. After a week of planning, securing an RV that they tow Morgan's Land Rover behind, their tiny group makes their way south. If the route happens to swing significantly east of Atlanta, absolutely no one comments on Rick's map.
They have to backtrack enough times to worry them. Traffic jams show the panic near the end, with a large population that didn't trust the promise of the refugee center trying to leave. Once they're finally south of Atlanta, it eases up a bit, but by then, Rick's sticking faithfully to the less known routes. Outside of a small town two counties south and east of Atlanta, they stop for the night, pulling into a deserted field that shows no signs of whatever animal or crop should have inhabited it. But the remaining fencing will keep any walkers from just wandering up to the RV or vehicles in the night.
The promise of a quiet night is broken by frantic neighing, then a horse gallops by, minus any rider. It's got a saddle though, so someone's ridden it, and recently. The decision to try to help seems like such an easy one, although Rick orders Morgan and Jenny to take the RV and get Duane headed in the direction the horse ran. Hopefully the animal's sensible enough to go away from danger, not into it.
Alex is glad they stopped with an hour of sunlight left, because she can't imagine heading into an unknown town in the dark, even to rescue someone. The streets are reasonably clear, and it doesn't take long to find the cluster of walkers… or the woman perched on the roof of a one-story building. The walkers can't reach her, but the building is small enough they're not going to get bored and wander off. Although there are other buildings in the area, none are close enough for the woman to go roof to roof, either.
"Seventeen of the bastards," Rick mutters. "We can try to take them on, but that's a lot of noise."
"Only if you use your Python. We found suppressors for my gun, remember?"
At the reminder that they hadn't had the skill to modify the barrel of Rick's Python to accept a suppressor, he eases her handgun out of the holster while she's idling the Jeep just far enough back the walkers haven't noticed the engine with fresh prey so close. It's almost enough with one magazine, too, as Alex brings him in range as he perches out the window. He gets halfway through the magazine, eight shots, before the walkers realize there's something more interesting than prey they can't reach.
Thanks to their lumbering speed, they can't catch Alex's Jeep either, as she leads them away. It does affect his aim, so he ends up needing more than one shot from the new magazine she passes him. When they circle back around to the building where the woman is, she's staring at the fallen walkers and hasn't attempted to climb down yet.
Rick's back in his seat, but Alex maneuvers the Jeep so that the driver's side faces the woman. "Saw your horse headed south like his tail was on fire. You need a ride somewhere?"
Her voice seems to finally jar the woman into motion, and she demonstrates how she got on the roof by climbing down the electrical box attachments on the end of the building. Looking between Rick and Alex, she's glad that Rick wore his uniform shirt for traveling. It's not like anyone couldn't steal things like that, but the world hasn't ended so long ago that people have forgotten the instinct to trust cops.
"Farm south of town. That's probably where my horse headed, since he has better sense than I do, apparently. I knew he was anxious about something, but I needed the supplies." Motioning toward a dropped backpack, the woman sighs heavily. "I'm Maggie Greene, and you're a ways from home, deputy."
Rick laughs at her recognizing that the county name on his shoulder patch is from three counties west of here. "Deputy Rick Grimes. Not much left there to serve and protect, Miss Greene. We're heading south."
"Just the two of you?" she eyes Alex even as she picks up her backpack.
"No, we have another family traveling with us. Didn't want to bring a child into a potentially dangerous situation." Alex offers a hand through her open window. "I'm Alex."
Maggie shakes, still assessing both of them, but she looks to the setting sun and then the scattered bodies of the dead. "I think I'll accept that ride." She slides into the backseat of the Jeep, behind Alex, still eyeing Rick closely. "Where exactly are you heading?"
"Thought about the barrier islands on the coast," Rick volunteers, even as Alex gets back on the road, heading back the way the horse was going until Maggie gives directions. "Avoid any really cold weather and maybe an easier barrier than fences between us and the dead."
"Sounds a lot more logical than staying put on a cattle farm." Maggie fumbles a sports bottle out of an exterior pocket on the backpack, drinking deeply. Blossom decides to make an appearance from the cargo area and headbutt the startled young woman into petting her.. "I keep telling Daddy I'm seeing larger and larger groups, but he thinks we're too remote."
They catch up with the RV - and interestingly enough, Maggie's horse, his reins held by Jenny as the animal prances nervously. "Why don't y'all follow me to the farm?" Maggie suggests. "We can feed y'all supper as a thank you for getting me out of that mess. Give you a place to park for the night."
"We'd appreciate it," Rick says, watching as she leaves the Jeep to go take her horse from Jenny.
"She left her backpack. Trusts us to follow," Alex muses. She's not surprised one bit when once Maggie's leading the way on the horse and the RV's bulk is in between them and the young woman, that Rick reaches for that pack. "Anything worrisome?"
Rick shakes his head. "Canned goods. Sign on the building said it was a food pantry, so I guess she's taking what she can carry on horseback. Depending on how many she's feeding? Lot of trips this way, but then you don't have to scavenge gas. Group could be small as ours, though."
"She didn't even seem to have a knife," Alex notes, wondering at the danger the woman walks into. She's not much older than a college kid, probably not even twenty-five.
"Might have had a pocket knife of some sort we couldn't see. Ah. She's not unarmed. Probably dropped the pack and thus this." Rick shows Alex the small handgun. "Twenty two, but that would be plenty for the average rotted head walker or any wild animal she came across."
That's one thing they've noticed. While domestic pets seem as scarce as people, coyotes certainly aren't. It would certainly be a concern Alex would have in a more rural area like this. "Smart of her. Be smarter to have it holstered on her belt."
"We'll be sure to suggest it."
They reach a series of gates that Maggie opens from horseback, and Rick hops out to close behind them. None are locked, but they're the sturdy sort meant to keep livestock from reaching the road, with a cattle gap at each gate as well. By the time they reach an old farmhouse, the sun is well and truly set, and a wary trio of males are on the porch as Maggie swings down out of the saddle to explain her visitors. It's too far away for Alex to hear, even as she brings the Jeep up even with the RV. When she motions for everyone to get out, Alex cuts the engine off.
"Here's hoping they're good people, right?" she mutters. Rick just chuckles, handing her Blossom's fluffy bulk while he takes Maggie's backpack.
They've arrived just at suppertime, it seems, and they get an invitation from the wary veterinarian introduced as Maggie's father. He studies Rick for a moment. "I remember seeing on the news about your shooting, Deputy Grimes. I'm glad to see you recovered."
Rick places a hand at the small of Alex's back, urging her closer. "I had a nurse who stayed when I was left behind in the evacuations, Dr. Greene. Wouldn't be here without her."
The older man's scrutiny on Alex is just as wary, but he nods. "Those are certainly professions where excess bravery is sometimes needed." Morgan, Jenny, and Duane receive less concern from Hershel, maybe because they are an obvious family unit. The sight of the boy definitely softens his remote expression.
Dinner is tasty enough, showing little signs that the world ended outside this odd little oasis in the Georgia countryside. Baked chicken and rice, roasted potatoes, and fresh baked bread rolls all smell heavenly. It's not that none of them cook, as putting the four adults together, they have a fairly decent repertoire of recipes. But chicken that's not from a can? That's unique. The only fresh meat they've had in recent months is what Alex hunts, drawing on skills rusty from her teen years and rarely used as an adult.
They get through the meal pleasantly enough, with all the usual politely nosy questions new people ask of each other. It's not until the leftovers are put away, and the kids hustled off to wash dishes that any conversation really turns to the devastated world beyond this farm.
"You were working in the hospital when all this happened, right, Alex?" Maggie asks, ignoring a stern look from her father.
"Pediatrics, yes. Specifically, the NICU. They evacuated my patients to Atlanta, or so I was told. When I checked the hospital for any survivors after the military started executing the hospital staff and adult patients, I only found Rick. Somehow they missed him."
The alarm from the four adults who haven't heard this before is almost comical. "The military shot hospital staff? Why?" Hershel asks, looking distraught.
"The warning my boss received was that they were to consider all adults exposed and infected." Alex shivers, remembering hearing those shots from the protection of that locked medication room, followed by hours hiding under the sink. "I survived because my boss made me hide and sacrificed himself as a distraction."
"But the government would be working on a cure. Why would they execute people not even showing signs of being sick?" The veterinarian seems more outraged than distraught now.
"Because we're all infected," Alex says quietly, drawing everyone's attention. Her own people know this, just like anyone working in a hospital setting figured out quickly, even if the government lied to the general public. "The bites or the original viral illness? Those will kill you directly and swiftly, but whatever this is? It doesn't matter how you die. We lost a pediatric cancer patient, and he bit his mother and a nurse before it could be contained."
"Is it possible he already had the illness?" Maggie asks, shooting her father a stern look.
Alex isn't sure what lies underneath the questions and honestly doesn't care. "Anything would be possible, except we saw the same scene repeat with other terminally ill patients. Too many to take it lightly, so our labs tested it. We're all infected."
Rick stiffens beside her, and she's not really sure why.
"What about the CDC?" Hershel asks. "Did you go there to see if they had a solution yet."
Alex sighs, remembering the massive crater they passed in leaving Atlanta after the devastation of the refugee center. "The CDC is gone. Probably some sort of failsafe device, but there's nothing or no one there. If anyone's working on a cure now, it's not in Atlanta." It's always possible the government moved operations elsewhere, like Colorado, which wouldn't be smack in the middle of a major metropolitan area.
With Hershel falling silent at that bit of news, Maggie turns the conversation to what they've seen in towns further afield, with all the Greene farm residents looking more and more morose as they describe the lack of any significant signs of survivors anywhere. Finally, with Jenny and Duane both looking like they'll nod off on the spot, they bid their hosts good night and venture back to the RV.
With Morgan and Jenny in the RV's bedroom and Duane in the bunks back near them, there's actually enough room for Alex and Rick to sleep separately, between the convertible dinette and sofa. Neither of them even consider the dinette, not after so many months of a shared bedroom. Settled together under a thick comforter to offset the amount of propane needed to run the heat in the RV, Rick is far more restless than he's been in weeks.
"What's on your mind?" Alex asks at last, propping to an elbow to look down at him. Compared to the man she cared for in the hospital, Rick's healthy enough now you would never know how touch and go it was for weeks. He's regained all the weight he lost, steadily putting on muscle mass in a physical therapy routine Alex hasn't had to monitor at all. She sort of misses the clean shaven cheeks of those hospital days, because the beard he's been growing in obscures his expression more.
"If I had died in my sleep…" Rick's voice drifts off, his expression both alarmed and anguished "Caring for me put you in danger from me, not just others."
"If you died in your sleep, the monitors would have woken me, Rick. You came close enough several times in the first few weeks that I did get woken by alerts. People don't turn in an instant." She was foolishly dedicated, not suicidal. Not once did she ever sleep without her makeshift spear at hand. "I would have had enough warning to put you down."
It settles some of the emotion Rick seems to be undergoing, but she isn't surprised when he hauls her close and seems to be trying to completely envelop her smaller frame with his taller one. In her ear, he says softly, "Thank God you didn't."
Considering Alex had the same thought almost every day that Rick clung to life, she doesn't mind being a sort of teddy bear to him tonight. She has no idea what they are to each other anymore. They're too close to be simply friends, but neither has crossed the line that sharing a bed seems to imply they have. It's easier to just let it drift undefined.
Patting his chest, she yawns. "Get some sleep, Rick. Long day tomorrow."
Alex is pretty sure he's still awake when she drifts off, guarding her sleep the way she did his for so long during the summer.