"Are you sure you're okay?" Daryl asked.
"As okay as I'll ever be for now. Who would have though I needed something smelly applied to my wound to feel slightly better?"
For she was a step more away from death, Daryl thought. His random poultice seemed to have done if not "the" then at least "a" trick.
The flesh had been less inflamed when he had checked the bandages, and the woman felt like her mind had cleared for a little bit.
It would have to do the trick until they came across some antibiotics.
He helped her get up and grabbed the metallic chains for the walkers.
"We should try the quarry," she said.
"Okay."
This would be his moment of truth. The last time he had spoken with his family, they had been there. Sure the power grid had been down, but some people across Georgia had managed to get the cell tower to work a few hours a day, broadcasting their own news, and letting people know when to turn on their cellphones if they expected a call. He had been able to reach Carol for a few brief minutes.
She had told him that Merle was with her, and Sophia was doing as great as could be expected in such circumstances.
She had begged him to find a way to come back to them.
When the world had gone to shit, he had been in Bolingbroke, delivering a bike he had worked on. He had hurried as fast as he could to get back to his family, but the government had sent people on roads, away from cities.
He silently thanked his brother, who had been with a girlfriend in Atlanta the night the world turned upside down, and who had immediately gone near Marietta where Carol and Sophia had been.
In a previous life, before so many things had happened, Daryl would not have been certain he could have trusted his brother around his wife and niece, but as he had lived with them or near them since Carol got pregnant, Merle had grown a "pussy" in his own word, or as Carol would say, "discovered he liked being part of a family".
All that mattered was the fact that the three people, well four people he loved more on Earth were together and waiting for him. He often thought about the babe to come, hating that he was missing all those first times, like feeling him or her stretching Carol's stomach.
Maybe it was the hunter in him, his primitive instincts being responsible for this, but when they had been expecting Sophia, Daryl had been hands on from start to finish. He would stay awake, cradling his wife in his arms, with a light hand against her stomach, feeling as if he was connecting with his unborn child.
"Whenever you're ready," Michonne said after a while.
He looked to the quarry and tried to come up with an itinerary which would not let them be seen, in case it was occupied, by the living or the dead.
It took them close to four hours to get there. A herd had gone through, they could tell, and they had to deal with several walkers who had been left behind or had gone on their own.
It was gruesome, as it always was, yet Daryl felt like he was a fuse about to go off. The hair on his arms felt like it was buzzing with electricity. Michonne needed help to walk, and so he stayed patiently with her, but there was this crowd in his head, so many thoughts, all contradictory, none speaking louder than other, entertaining this buzz when he wished for a clear head.
Then, they were almost there.
They first encountered tombs, and his heart was pounding as he looked at the mementos adorning the wooden crosses to remember the dead by. Sophia's grave would have shown a hare, and Carol, a doe; Merle would have had a bird. None of these symbols could be seen, and he praised the Lord, for small graces.
When they walked where the hearth had been, he felt drained and had to sit for a moment.
This was it. He could tell. There were signs he could read.
"Maybe they went away because of the herd?" Michonne offered, struggling to find something soothing to say.
"They left before that. I can tell. They left clues."
She gave him a side look, and he went on:
"Yes, you are as great a tracker as I am, but I can see signs. They did not leave in a hurry, or they would not have been able to leave those clues. See the ground before this tree? It has firewood gathered there, which makes no sense unless it was left voluntarily."
He got up and looked around.
"There, on this tree, someone carved a deer print. That's my brother. And there," he explained as he walked over to the hearth, "someone left wood tied together with small branches. That's my kid."
"Are you sure you're not reading too much into things?"
He wanted to yell, but she did not deserve such an outburst. He felt like his heart was exploding. His family had been there, he knew it. It felt so unfair for them to be gone, and for him to be left alone.
He walked away from Michonne, and went to the river, further away.
This was where his family had lived. They had slept, talked, eaten, thought about him, all of them.
He went to the cliffs over the pond and wondered if Carol had come here to wash everybody's laundry.
Lord, how she hated doing the laundry… He was used to doing it back at home.
He heard Michonne try to make his way to him and got up before she tired herself unnecessarily.
In doing so, he saw a glint of light which caught his eyes, then it was gone.
"Chonne, don't overexert yourself. If my family is not here, and if our agreement still stands, then we will be tracking them, and I can't do that with you dying on me."
He helped her get under a tree.
"I want to help you track them, but how are we going on about it?"
He was thinking the same but couldn't very well tell her so. The same glint of light appeared very briefly.
He gestured for her to come with, as he said:
"You agree, if they left, they did so speedily but not under the pressure of the herd we encountered. Therefore, Carol must have left a sign. I told you about little things that tell me my family was there, and I get that you may feel like I'm wishing more than telling, but they were there."
"I want them to be…"
"Good, 'cause they are," he said, facing her.
He took in a deep breathe, hating that he had to explain himself so much when he was not one for sharing. Yet, he needed her on his side.
"I know it, not in my heart or something cheesy. I know it in my gut. When I met Carol, when we had Sophia, it changed me, physically. I can tell they're alive. I just know it. I would have gone to die if they were not."
"I understand, but I dread… I dread you might be wrong and how it would kill you…"
He couldn't offer a counterpoint to that, so he kept going to that place where the glint seemed to be coming for, with Michonne by his side.
He pushed a bush, and they entered a clearing. His heart dropped in his stomach.
There was a wooden cross in the ground. And it spelled "Arthur".
He fell to his knee in front of it, catching the piece of jewelry which was hanging from it.
Dog tags. Merle's, from way way back.
"What the…. What is that?" Michonne asked.
He was piecing it together as fast as he could, and finally said:
"I believe it's an offering from my family."
"Your name is Arthur?"
"No, my father was named Arthur. And those belonged to my brother."
"Do you think… Do you think he died? But, the ground makes no sense… If someone was buried there, the turned dirt should be…."
"Not this way…"
Indeed, at the foot of this makeshift cross, the ground had been turned as if someone had been buried, but the space on which it had been done so was way too small, even for a child.
"No way…."
He started digging with his bare hand, in front of a bewildered Michonne.
He felt like his whole soul was in this. He had to find something, there had to be more…
When he hit something hard, he heard himself laugh, as he dug even more.
He got a metal box out of the ground and opened it.
Michonne fell to her knees next to him as his finger found a piece of Carol's clothing, which he brought to his nose, the aroma hitting his nostrils with nostalgia and longing.
"There's a note!"
Michonne was right and he grabbed the paper, his finger shaking.
As this was nothing he could hide from her, he unfolded the sheet and made sure she could read it with him.
Hey Pookie (I know you hate the nickname).
I miss you. Your daughter does too. She's fierce, and if you could get any prouder of her, you would. She's a star. Your brother is well… your brother.
We're leaving this place. We're looking for help. Join us at the place where my cousin Lewis got his first job.
We're waiting for you, all three of us. I love you.
And then there was a post scriptum, written by some different
I never got the clap, mofo.
He found himself laughing, as he fought back tears. Michonne hung on his arm, laughing along, her hand going to her mouth.
"You were right!" She said, and he smiled.
"Where did her cousin whatever used to work?"
"Lemme think, she had a zillion of those… I am pretty sure Lewis was the one who acted all high and mighty because he was a janitor at the CDC. I mean, no shame in being a janitor, but where you are doesn't change what you do…"
"So they went to the CDC?"
He nodded, fighting the urge to cry as he realized they had left him the biggest clue they could.
"What's that bit about the clap?" She asked.
He was wondering so himself, but on a wild guess, looked at the wooden cross.
He put his hand on it and felt immediately it was not right.
"I think they left something in it…."
He grabbed it and got it free from the ground. The part which had been buried had been messed with, and he broke it off, revealing pills in a blister, alongside with another note.
Couldn't risk anyone getting this. Here is to hoping you don't need this. Find us, quickly, little bro.
"Merle, you clever motherfucker…."
Michonne said nothing but quickly took out a pill and swallowed her first dose of much needed antibiotics.