Reviews:
ArthurBygrave- Thank you, means a lot!
BabySlothXYaoi- Thank you, I've made the change, much appreciated! It's always fun having characters point out Rhys' Englishness, poor boy. Babies are scary in this world, and yes, everyone is indeed a dude. I'll be damned if I let Beth's memory die, that girl deserved better. Walker killing is a good outlet, what can he say. We do just have the coolest group in the world right now, although I think Rhys and Carol's stale air is starting to choke them both. Thank you as always for all the loveliness in your words!
Luna de Octubre- Thank you! I'm glad to hear it! :)
When I wake up, the van is still dark, and Carl is sleeping soundly.
I realise what woke me, feeling a breeze coming from the now opened backdoors of the van. I stay perfectly still, heavy breathing at the doors by my feet.
I know my gun is on the floor behind me, Carls' too. Still pretending to be asleep, I slowly shuffle my way backwards, trying to reach them when-
"Rick."
My body relaxes when I hear the words, though I don't immediately recognise the voice.
"Noah," Rick's response comes from by my feet. He must be sitting at the edge of the van.
Once Rick says his name, the voice fits into place like a misshapen puzzle piece. Since Grady, I've barely spoken a word to Noah. It's weird hearing my first name again, but except for Carl, no one brings up the connection, probably since no one else remembers.
The van sinks slightly when Noah joins Rick on its edge.
"Can I talk to you about something?" Noah asks Rick.
I don't hear anything, so I assume he either nodded or didn't respond.
"Beth..." The air tightens when Noah says her name, suddenly becoming harder to breathe. "Beth and I had a plan when we escaped the first time. See, I come from a small community. I wanted- want to go back. You could all come too... It's safe. Safer."
Although I can't see Rick's bearded face, I can sense the scepticism on it. Nothing but Terminus on both of our minds. Terminus and Grady were supposed to be safe too.
Noah tells Rick, "She was gonna come with me..."
There's a long pause, Carl's light snores, the only thing keeping me breathing.
"How far?" Rick's response has nothing in it. No hope. No worry.
"The Shirewilt Estates. Outside of Richmond, Virginia."
I can't picture Virginia, not the shape of it. I think back to my map, the map that was given to me by a crazy man. I wonder if he's still alive in that town.
I frown into Carl's orange rucksack- now pillow -thinking about that town.
Why did it feel familiar now? Like I'd dreamt about it, only, while awake.
"What makes it safe?" Rick asks him, sounding tired in his drawl.
"We have a wall, a guard tower. There's twenty of us. It's safer than this."
Again silence follows in which I don't know how Rick reacts.
Rick lets out a long sigh. "Get some sleep, Noah."
I feel the van bounce again, more violently this time, as both of them get up.
I hear one walk away, the other staying still and keeping silent. I can feel eyes on us.
Then I hear Carl's father sigh again, the van doors closing gently after. The sound of Rick's boots walking away.
Something wakes me up.
It's morning now, light spilling into the van through the dirty backdoor windows.
The something that woke me isn't the sun, nor is it the uncomfortable floor I'm sleeping on. At first, I think I'm dead. I think a walker got into the van, and it's eating my neck. Then I realise it's not a walker. It's Carl. I realise he's not eating my neck. Warm shivers shoot up my spine, an electric shock that runs through my whole body.
"Morning to you, too," I laugh.
Carl giggles into me, stopping his barrage of kisses along my neck.
I sit up, a grin on my face that I can't shake.
"What was that for?" I ask, still beaming.
"Jus' thought you might appreciate it," Carl grins.
"It was definitely appreciated," I nod.
Carl sits there, staring at me through his bed head. A smirk appears.
"Want me to do it again?"
"Yes... yes, I do."
After pleasant moments have passed, we hear a knock on the van door, Tara calling out that there's a group meeting in ten. We get our shoes on in the cramped van, holstering our weapons too. I thank Carl for not giving my neck another purple bruise. He frowns and tells me he misses it.
"Did you hear my Dad last night?"
"Yeah," I nod, putting on my satchel bag.
"What do you think?" Carl asks me, hiding his bedhead under his stetson.
"I think it's a bad idea. You?"
"Why?" Carl ignores my question.
"You really have to ask?" I answer.
Carl looks at the scar on my lip, the still healing bruises on my face. His own flushes with guilt.
I immediately feel terrible.
He tells me, "Not everyone's bad."
"Maybe."
The pounding on the door comes again, Abraham's voice behind it this time.
"Move your asses!"
Everyone is onboard with Richmond...almost everyone. I stay quiet when Rick asks if anyone has objections, looking at my feet when Carl looks to me. I don't want to cause an argument. I don't want to tear down the hope that everyone seems to build up for the first time since the hospital. I don't break or build anything. I just stay quiet and nod.
"We've got a long way to go, so we're moving out soon," Rick tells us. "Make sure you're all ready."
Everyone goes about whatever they need to do before we leave. Most of us just sitting around and talking, waiting for Rick to decide on our route. When I see Carol watching me out of the corner of her eye beside the burnt-out campfire, I turn on a dime, walking towards Sasha's lookout instead.
Sasha is still sitting atop the firetruck's dented roof. Abraham is at the engine, banging his fist against it.
"You're kidding, right?" Sasha calls down to him.
"I am certainly not," Abraham shouts back, his forehead creased into irritable folds. "This elegant vehicle may have extinguished its last fire."
"Everything okay?" I ask, leaning against the firetruck's door.
"No," Abraham growls. "Now quite leaning, and start climbing." He points to the firetruck's cabin.
I follow his instructions, climbing into the driver's seat.
"Make her purr," Abraham calls out.
Guessing what he means by that, I turn the key.
"Shit. Gas it again!"
I do.
"Bitch nuts. Once more!"
I grind the key in the ignition.
"God damn it! Abraham slams the hood down, shaking his head. "She's a goner." He keeps shaking his head as he walks off.
I hop out of the truck, looking to its roof instead.
"That sucks," I say gravely.
Sasha looks down at me, a hand blocking out the sun.
When she doesn't speak, I ask, "You seen Ty?"
"Doing one last sweep of the cars."
"Have you been up all night?"
Sasha nods.
Like with Maggie yesterday, I can sense that I'm not wanted, so I leave without saying any more.
Tyreese is, like Sasha told me, searching cars.
"Morning," I stuff my hands into my pockets, standing by the boot, as Tyreese searches the backseats.
He pokes his head out, "Good morning to you."
"Looking forward to moving on?" I hum.
He thinks about it, nodding. "I think so. Always liked driving."
I smirk at him, "Me too."
"Take these," Ty passes me a lug wrench and a roll of duct tape from under the seats. I grab them, stuffing each into my satchel bag.
Ty climbs out of the car, the vehicle shifting with a metallic creak.
"Gotta make sure we grab everything we can," he explains as we walk to the next car, a small yellow ford. He opens the door and starts rummaging through the cars glove box.
I hesitate to say what I do next. But I speak anyway.
"I'm not sure I want to move on," I tell him, scraping my foot against the floor in anticipation.
Ty doesn't seem shocked as he keeps searching.
"From the car park, sure," I look around, "But, this place Noah's talking about? Sounds like a long shot."
Ty pulls his head from the car, handing me an empty water bottle. "It might be a long shot that pays off," he offers.
"Or it could be like everywhere else." I blow dust from the bottle's cap before placing it in the bag.
"You're right. It could be." He nods. That makes me smile, appreciating not getting brushed off.
Somehow, his agreeing with my pessimism gives me a shot of the opposite. "If it is," I tell him, "we'll make it work, we'll find a way."
Ty smiles, "Yes, we will."
When Rick summons everyone back with a whistle, we prepare to leave. Tara is devastated when Abraham breaks the news about the fire truck. Luckily, out of all the rusting vehicles in this car graveyard, a dinky blue minivan still has some life in it, Rosita managing to make it run. Between that and our white van, everyone will have a seat for the trip ahead, be it a tight one.
Rick takes Carl and Judith in the white van. I go to join them, but Rick tells me that I'm with Abraham. He mutters something about not enough space.
Maggie and Glenn both join Rick's group in the white van. Maggie seems not to care where she is, hugging herself as Glenn guides her by the shoulders to the van.
Eugene quickly hops into the white van as well, avoiding Abraham's furrowed brow.
Carol sits in the passenger seat of the dinky blue Minivan. Tyreese takes her arm, getting her to change from the blue vehicle into the white one with him when he sees me avoiding getting in.
Daryl climbs in the back of the white van, not saying a word. When I think about it, he's barely said anything since Atlanta.
Michonne rides shotgun with Abraham while Rosita and I slump into the middle seats behind them. Tara squeezes in next to me, slapping my leg with enthusiasm and shouting "road trip!" in an excitable tone, only to be silenced by Rosita's scowl.
Finally, Sasha and Noah hop into the back of our minivan, only for Sasha to climb back out and drag father Gabriel in with them by the arm when he stands around looking lost.
We peel out of the parking lot in our stuffed cars. Leaving it behind for the journey ahead.
The road is bumpy, bouncing us around inside the minivan. I find it crazy that after two years of no upkeep, the roads have fallen so far, cracks and potholes littering the surface like pebbles on a beach.
Rosita asks me to open my window at some point, the heat starting to bother her. She gets annoyed when it gets stuck, and I can't open it. She even contemplates shooting out the glass. All of us tell her it's a bad idea, except for Abraham, who just find it funny.
A/N
Gonna miss that firetruck.