Eve's POV
We stepped through the door of the bar, finding the inside empty except for a lone old man in a white shirt at the bar.
"Who's with you?" Hershel asked without turning, from the bar directly across the room from us at the doors.
"Glenn, and Eve." Rick holstered his weapon.
"Maggie sent 'em?"
Jesus, we're not post cards. And I wouldn't call that sending.
"They volunteered. They're good like that." Rick started towards the bar, carefully checking the room out as he went.
I peeked through the drapes of the window beside the doors, while Glenn followed him farther into the open room.
Several of the table and chairs are pushed off to the side, or knocked over, but I'm surprised there's no shattered glass. Half the stuff in this room is made of it.
"How many you had?" I glanced at Rick leant against the bar next to Hershel.
"Not enough."
I watched a garbage bag blow down the street, not quite able to make out what Rick muttered to Hershel before, "Beth collapsed, must be in some sort a state. Must be in shock. I think you are too."
Wow, descriptive. You should'a been a narrator.
"Maggie's with her?" Hershel completely ignored Rick's concern for him.
"Yeah, but Beth needs you."
"What could I do?" Gee, I don't know. Let me think about that for a moment. You could treat her for shock, you could help each other grieve, you could be there for your child when she needs you—
"She needs her mother. Or rather to mourn. Like she should'a done weeks ago. I robbed her of that. I see that now."
"You thought there was a cure. Can't blame yourself for holdin' out for hope." Rick reasoned.
"Hope?" I heard the barstool shift but glanced and Hershel was still seated. For a second there, I thought things were going well. My mistake.
"When I first saw you runnin' across my field with your boy in your arms. I had little hope he'd survive."
"But he did." Rick countered.
"He did." Hershel confirmed. "Even though we lost Otis, your man Shane made it back, and we saved your boy. That was the miracle that proved to me miracles do exist."
Hmph. I never believed in miracles. Luck, however. That's a different story.
"Only it was a sham. A bait and switch. I was a fool, Rick...and your people saw that. My daughter's deserve better than that."
Yeah… to be fair though, we're probably some of the only people alive who know anything about this infection. All because of Jenner.
We actually saw some of what little research was done before it was destroyed.
I heard Hershel pour himself another drink, and glanced as Rick's boots alerted me to him coming back towards us post cards at the door.
Glenn moved back, glancing outside to make sure we weren't drawing any unwanted attention to ourselves.
"So what do we do, just wait for him to pass out?" Glenn looked between us.
"Could bring the bottles." I murmured, glancing at Hershel before returning my eyes to them.
He's set on drinking, we probably won't get him to stop any time soon. Doesn't mean he has to drink here.
"Just go!" Hershel raised his voice so we could hear him but the shout didn't have anything other than despair behind it. "Just go"
I sighed heavily, resisting the urge to grind my teeth. We should close the door. We're gonna be here awhile. Longer than I'd like, no doubt. Because that's always the way of things now.
"I promised Maggie I'd bring you home safe." Rick turned back, to head towards the bar.
"Like you promised that little girl?"
I froze.
Silence caved over the bar. My eyes turned slowly, fixing on Hershel's back.
Rick moved before I could; a new intensity eating the silence alive in his wake. "So what's your plan? Finish that bottle? Drink yourself to death and leave your girls alone?"
Hershel stood, knocking his glass over. "Stop telling me how to care for my family, my farm."
He turned, coming towards Rick; moving from that stool for the first time since we got here— probably since he got here.
"You people are like a plague!"
Didn't think I'd ever be called that again.
"I do the Christian thing, give you shelter, and you destroy it all!"
"The world was already in bad shape, when we met." Rick stopped right in front of him, but his fist looks like he wants to punch Hershel out.
You won't find me complaining, if he goes through with it. Hershel may be old, and he may be grieving but that doesn't give you a free pass to say whatever the Hell you want and expect to get away with it.
I clicked my tongue and made my way behind the long L shaped bar.
"And you take no responsibility. You're supposed to be their leader!" Hershel accused, shaking with anger.
"Well I'm here now! Aren't I?" Rick shouted.
"Yes." Hershel nodded, his aggression melting back to his numbed state before.
"Yes. Yes, you are." he went back to his barstool, taking another drink from what's left in his glass.
I came around the back corner of the space behind the counter, spying another door back here. Almost a straight shot out of this end of the bar. This place didn't look that big from the outside, but it looks like there's a staircase right there, goin' down.
If there were any walkers that were gonna come up, they'd have done it by now. We haven't exactly been quiet, and I haven't heard so much as an out of place scratch, from outside this room.
I'll keep my eyes on it for now, but if we're here for more than half an hour, I'll go check it out. For peace of mind sake.
However, we're not staying for more than an hour. Tops.
If the time comes, I will knock Hershel's ass out myself. He can be as mad as he likes when he wakes up, at the farm.
"Now come on. Your girls need you now, more than ever." Rick grabbed Hershel's arm to pull him up, and Hershel swung it back, out of his grip.
"I didn't want to believe you. You told me there was no cure. That these people were dead, not sick. I chose not to believe that."
I couldn't help another sigh.
A part of me had hoped Hershel would be another voice of reason but apparently age does not always bring wisdom.
I didn't expect much when we first met, but I didn't expect to be babysitting him too.
"But when Shane shot Lou in the chest and she just kept comin'. That's when I knew what an ass I'd been."
I scrubbed a hand over my forehead.
I don't have the energy for this drama right now.
Hershel can throw his tantrum, Rick can talk to him, but sooner or later I'll drag all our asses back home. Kickin' and screamin' if necessary.
Rick shifted, to his stance he takes when he's ready to listen and possibly argue with someone. One hand hanging near his gun, the other on his hip.
"That Annette had been dead, looong ago and I was feeding her rotten corpse!"
"And when that little girl came outta the barn… The look on your face—… I knew you knew it to. Right?"
Silence fell again. I glanced at Rick, but he doesn't look like he's got anything to say to that. Glenn looks uneasy. I can't let him take Hershel's drunk slurs too seriously. I might need to talk to him later, make sure he's okay.
"There is no hope."
Of course there isn't if you're clinging to the past! To the way things were.
"And you know it now, like I do. Don't you?"
Rick was silent. Glenn glanced at me, and I pursed my lips.
It's hard to differentiate rational thought from clouded emotion in others on a normal day, nevermind from someone who's plastered and wallowing in despair.
"There is no hope, for any of us."
You know what, Hershel?
Hope all you like. The way most people use it is a waste of time and effort.
The harsh reality is, hope is useful for one thing and one thing alone. Spurring yourself through a task you know has a high chance of failure.
"Look I'm done. Cleaning up after you— you know what the truth is? Nothing has changed." Rick leaned on the bar once again, so Hershel would look at him.
Glenn came farther into the room, standing just behind Rick.
"Death is death. It's always been there. Whether it's from a heart attack, cancer, or a walker. What's the difference? You didn't think it was hopeless before, did you?"
Thank you. Can we please, finally get somewhere with this stubborn old man.
"Now there are people back at home trying to hang on. They need us, even if it's just to give 'em a reason to go on. Even if we don't believe it ourselves." Rick took a pace, running his hand over his mouth and beard.
"You know what? This— this isn't about what we believe anymore. It's about them." Rick gestured towards the door.
Something moved outside the window, and my hand went to my knife, as I stepped to the left so I could see around Hershel on the other side of the counter; angling my shoulders as I did in case I needed to act fast.
Hershel finished his drink, putting the glass rim down on the bench before he stood up.
The door opened and my knife was in my grip as everyone else turned to the two men who just stepped inside.
"Son of a bitch. They're alive." The skinnier man in front turned to the larger one behind him.
Lovely. God can we not just— catch a bloody break for once? One break, is that too much to ask!?