AN: Here we go, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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The guard that escorted them to the warehouse seemed nice enough, though he'd hardly spoken a word to either Carol or Daryl except for asking them for the pass that Alice gave them that allowed them to go to the place where he was assigned to take them. The warehouse was just exactly what its name suggested it was. Carol had only been in there once, but it reminded her of the Costco that she'd been to before the turn. The only differences, perhaps, were that it was smaller and it wasn't really built for shoppers to spend time in. Orders were brought there, they were filled, and then they left out—there wasn't much room between shelves for lingering or browsing and the citizens were rarely even let into the space to do such browsing. Guards and "citizen employees" were usually responsible for filling orders that they delivered in bags or baskets.
The guard that was sitting on a stool near the entrance looked like he'd spent most of his career since the turn, and maybe even before the turn, holding down a stool. He looked like he hated the idea of leaving it even to do his assigned work. He scowled at both of them as they approached, their escort leaving them since he considered his job to be done, and held his hand out.
"Pass?" He asked. Carol handed him the piece of paper that they'd been sure to bring with them out of the several pieces of paper that Alice had given them upon leaving her office. He eyed Carol, apparently searching out some proof of her pregnancy, but she wasn't sure that he'd find much. "You got a document of registration?" He asked. "Can't let nobody order nursery furniture that don't show me a document of registration."
Carol looked at the other papers in her hands. Since she hadn't known what to bring, she'd brought everything except the sonogram picture. She found what she thought he wanted and she handed him the document. The others she folded and handed to Daryl to tuck into his pocket.
"You can sign me up," Carol said. "Or write my name down, or whatever it is that you do. I'm pregnant."
"Twice as much as anybody else you got here," Daryl pointed out.
The man studied the document and looked at Carol again. He smiled to himself.
"You look too damn little to be pregnant with twins," he said.
"She ain't gonna stay that way long for long," Daryl pointed out, clearly feeling a little offended that the man might even think of questioning the validity of something they'd been struggling to come to terms with since Alice had told them the news.
The man hummed and walked to the door. He held it open for them to pass inside and Carol stepped in first. It was just as she'd remembered the place being, nearly wall to wall shelving, except there was more stock there now than there had been when she'd come before. Inside, there were a few people that were walking around filling orders, but mostly the building was empty. The heavy guard caught Daryl's arm before he stepped in the door and, without truly trying to hide what he was saying to him, spoke to Daryl.
"You can do that trick again," the man said, "and make two of 'em? If you ain't too attached to that one they'd likely let you take your pick of the women around here. Two at a time and all?"
Daryl frowned at the man.
"I'm attached," he said as his only response before he stepped fully into the door and followed Carol. The guard quickly stepped around them, not apologizing for his statement at all, and guided them where they should apparently be going. When they finally reached the section that Carol assumed housed all the baby supplies, she was surprised to see the fairly slim amount of choices. There were a few pieces of furniture, but no more than three of anything. Besides that, there were a few shelves of options.
The heavy guard gestured to it.
"This is what we got. The way it works is that I'ma register you with this document. That puts you down as getting a request list for anything you might want. But you don't order everything at once and you don't order it all in one place. Any clothes you need for when you're fatter? That goes on the laundry list same as all your clothes. Baby clothes are standard issue. You got three choices of looks or whatever and they send a variety of 'em. Diapers are cloth, they go on that list. Same with blankets and sheets and all that stuff. If it's cloth? It's laundry, don't send it to us. This here? This is the nursery furniture. You got your choices here of colors but these are just for lookin' at. You make your choices and you tell me. I put in the order. When they get a truck together, they deliver it and it comes to your house. All the other stuff? You order it from here but you can take home what you want with you now. Baskets are up at the front, by the door, and you'll return it with your other delivery baskets."
"We understand," Carol offered. When he simply backed away a bit, though, and stood with his arms crossed, it was clear to Carol that they weren't going to be left there long to do their browsing, and they weren't going to be left alone. "Daryl? Can you—grab a basket?"
Daryl glanced at the guard, nodded at Carol, and quickly walked in the direction where the guard had gestured that he'd find the baskets. Out of the corner of her eye, as she looked at some of the assorted items on the shelf, Carol saw the guard watching her. She was free to take anything she wanted, but he was watching her almost like he suspected her of shoplifting. As soon as Daryl returned with the basket, Carol quickly dropped a few items into it without even really thinking about what she was grabbing. There would be plenty of time, she knew, to order more of anything she might decide she wanted.
Then she walked over to the cribs. She caught Daryl's hand and tugged at it so that he'd come to stand with her. She could tell that he was uncomfortable and she suspected, because he made her uncomfortable too, that it was the presence of the guard that was doing it.
"Which one do you like?" Carol asked. "Or—which color do you like? For the babies. White, light wood, or dark wood?"
"Get whatever you want," Daryl said. "It don't matter to me."
Carol sucked in a breath and ran her hand over the side of the crib that was closest to her. Touching it made her breath catch in her lungs. Just the thought of having a crib—or two—that she actually had to use again was difficult. Touching the wood, she realized that she hadn't really digested everything and there was a lot that she still needed to think about.
"I want you to choose, Daryl," Carol said. "Whatever you pick? It will be perfect. What do you like the best for the—for the nursery?"
Daryl looked around, walked around the cribs like he was checking out every inch of them to see if they were different, and then he stood nipping at the piece of skin on his thumb that he'd been worrying with since they'd been inside the clinic.
"I like the light one," Daryl said.
Carol smiled at him.
"Yeah?" She asked. He nodded. "That's the one I like the best too," Carol said. "We'll order—everything in the light wood. Or did you want them to be two different colors?"
Carol hoped he wouldn't want two different colors, but more than that she hoped he'd feel involved in the process somehow and, at the moment, the choice of nursery furniture was the best that she could offer him. Before Daryl could speak, though, to let her know what he wanted, there was a squelching hiss from the guard's radio that caught their attention and a voice came through requesting to know the guard's whereabouts. The voice identified the man as "Fuller."
"In the warehouse," Fuller responded. "Got a register. Pickin' out furniture. Over."
"We got a F12 in progress. Lock down and secure all prisoners," the voice radioed back.
Carol felt her blood run cold and her chest caught to the point that she wasn't sure if her heart had simply stopped beating for a moment. Fuller switched the dial on his radio and pressed the button to speak into it.
"Smith, you outside?" He asked. Whoever he was speaking to radioed back that he was on his way back and would be there in a matter of minutes. "Lockdown when you come," Fuller responded. Smith confirmed, as Carol suspected he might, that he would do just that.
"What's going on?" Carol asked.
Fuller stepped toward her, taking handcuffs from the belt that he wore.
"Turn around," he said. "We're under lockdown. I have to secure you."
Daryl quickly stepped in front of Carol and put his hand up like he might push Fuller backward. Carol knew that might not be the best thing that Daryl could do at the moment, so she put her hands on his shoulders to draw him backward.
"What are we under lockdown for?" Daryl asked.
"I have to secure both of you," Fuller responded to him.
"What the hell for?" Daryl asked. "What's a F12 and why the hell you gotta cuff us? We ain't doing nothing but picking out cribs for babies!"
Fuller looked irritated, but the man was unarmed except for what appeared to be a flashlight that he could have used as a weapon if he chose to do so. Fuller didn't really seem the kind of man, though, that was motivated to engage in hand to hand combat with anyone. At least, not unless he absolutely had to.
"An F12 is a fugitive prisoner," Fuller responded. "We're under lockdown and all prisoners have to be secured until the fugitive is apprehended and the situation is under control."
"We ain't prisoners here," Daryl said.
"For the time being, you are," Fuller said. "We can do this easily or I can radio for backup and report that we have others trying to go fugitive. The choice is yours."
"We don't want to go anywhere," Carol said quickly. "Fugitive or—or anywhere else. We'd rather be in here...where it's safe."
Carol didn't think it was important that what she feared, out there, wasn't whoever it was that was making some kind of break for what would surely be a short burst of freedom followed by their death, but rather the guards that would be pursuing the individual and would, more than likely, not be thinking about what harm they might cause others.
"We ain't goin' nowhere," Daryl said. "And we ain't prisoners and we ain't fugitives. But you ain't gonna cuff us because it don't make sense."
"I have to secure you to make sure that you're not going to try anything," Fuller said, suddenly looking a little more bored with the argument than truly angry.
"What the hell we gonna try that we wouldn't have already tried?" Daryl asked. "There ain't no doubt there's a dozen guards out there ready to shoot us down. Maybe that many people running that's willing to do what they gotta do—including mow us down—to get the hell outta here. But cuffing us is some dumb shit because if they get in here? I'ma knock some damn body's ass out if they come at us. Cuffing me? Just means you makin' it harder for us to help you."
Carol squeezed Daryl's shoulders to remind him to lower his voice—and maybe to check his temper. Fuller didn't seem dedicated to cuffing them at the moment, or to calling for better armed backup, and it was best to keep things that way.
"It's protocol to secure you," Fuller said. "To ensure your safety and my safety. And for the safety of any other guard."
"That's bullshit and you know it," Daryl said. "It ain't got a thing to do with our safety. Got to do with you. But we ain't threatening you. So how about—we stand over here with our hands in the air. Right where you can see 'em? You don't touch us, we don't touch you."
"Daryl," Carol offered, "it's really not important."
"It is important," Daryl said. "Get to touching and the next thing you know? You sneeze and he's got you on the ground."
"Keep your hands where I can see them," Fuller said, apparently deciding that it wasn't worth his effort or the struggle that it was likely to turn into. "All four of them. You try anything at all, and I'll have backup in here in a matter of minutes. There's somebody just outside the door."
Daryl backed up, standing beside Carol, and both of them did as they were instructed, holding their hands up in front of them. Carol's concerns, at that moment, turned from Fuller—who really didn't seem like much of a threat to her as long as she stayed still as he'd requested—to the sounds outside. There was a good bit of yelling going on—none of which was really clear to her—and every now and again Fuller's radio squelched and made her jump. Nobody said anything on the radio, though.
Not until there was a series of unmistakable snaps outside that sounded like firecrackers going off in a closed metal can.
The radio squelched one more time and finally a voice came over the slightly static filled line.
"Lockdown has been raised," the voice said. "Return all prisoners to their residences immediately and secure them. Situation has been defused."
