Since they left Texas, Eugene's had it branded into his brain to make his own escape a priority. The one time they slipped up in the practice, he and Pam got separated from the others, and their mission nearly came to an untimely end. Since then, he's trained harder to be able to defend himself without running as the only option, but in the end, running is always at the top of the list and he's not ashamed of it.
In the past, he's always had Rosita right there and never the Ford children, but everything went upside down today. Rosita left the kids with Michonne and Andre to help with organizing what supplies could be taken from the farm. Beth drifted down to join them, keeping the children amused while Eugene and Michonne refilled the water tanks strapped to the top of his mobile lab.
When the radio crackles to life, loading all four kids into the back of the Humvee is just second nature. Beth starts to protest, but she responds easily to Eugene's plea that he needs help with the children and the others will catch up. Like Pam, Beth is even more a priority than Eugene himself, and something tells him that her family won't object. Michonne gets them off the farm, caring little for the gates that once kept the property secure.
"Where are we supposed to meet up with the others?"
They've got the access panel closed between them and the lab in the back, and Eugene is glad of it. Something about large herds makes him think the walkers have a hive mind because they're somehow drawn in even when there's no engine noise. Michonne has already run over three strays on their way to try to join the larger group. Luckily, the Humvee is perfect as a battering ram.
"I've got a list of towns in order of distance from the farm that the Greenes confirmed have high schools. The football fields in most will give us fencing to hide behind if we're lucky. We find the first safe one and hold tight until the others catch up. Or any alternate fenced area, like something industrial."
Michonne nods, switching on the headlights now that it's dusk. The lights won't attract any more attention than the rumbling diesel motor, and the risk they won't see something bigger than a walker is too high to drive in the oncoming dark. Eugene twists to open the panel, peering in at the kids in the back.
"How is everyone coping?"
"We're playing Go Fish," Beth tells him. Andre is in her lap, too young to really understand the game, and all four are sitting on the spare amount of floor around the desk and lab chair. He'd told her where to find the cards in his desk drawer when they first left the farm.
"Is it okay if we have something to eat?" Becca asks, folding her cards neatly and laying them down.
"You remember where the MREs are?" The Humvee isn't stocked to feed this many people for very long, but there's no point in the kids going hungry tonight.
"Yeah." Becca gets to her feet, going to tug a case out from under the desk, while AJ fetches two bottles of water for the kids to share. Both of Abraham's kids are thrifty with supplies already, because Becca only selects two of the MREs before closing the case and putting it away. She settles down to explain the packages to Beth with the enthusiasm of a kid who hasn't burned out on the novelty of them yet, so Eugene settles back in his seat.
Getting out the map, Eugene studies it for a moment before reaching up to slide the panel back closed. "I don't like that Abraham hasn't tried to radio us yet."
It's been over an hour since they left the farm ahead of the others, and no one has turned up behind them. They couldn't have had a head start of more than ten minutes at most with that herd coming across the farm, and the map Eugene is holding is one of many. He reminds himself that the reason for the maps in all the vehicles is that there are multiple routes in case of herds, unfriendlies, or just plain infrastructure failure. Infrastructure wasn't exactly infallible before the world tumbled to a halt, and now there are no road crews or engineers to fix what breaks beyond usability.
"What could interfere with the radio?" Michonne glances at the unit suspiciously. "I was surprised you got the range you do."
"Back when the world was full of functioning electronics, there was so much interference that CB radios were barely useful. Ham radio still worked pretty well, aside from someone using something to jam it. Thunderstorms and solar flares can also interfere. We might have moved beyond the range of the repeater we installed at the farm."
"Or it got damaged somehow."
He doesn't need Michonne to elaborate on how the repeater might have gotten messed up. They'd mounted it on top of the windmill on the farm, but if enough of a herd amassed near the structure, it might topple. Not for the first time, he wishes the orders weren't for him to go radio silent until Abraham contacts him.
The first two towns they pass through aren't viable, because the high schools were used for residents to gather, and just like the one back in the Greenes' hometown, fell to the walkers. It makes the trip through the dark eerier and more haunting, with the Humvee attracting a small swarm in both towns that they easily plow through and outrun. Checking on the kids shows that Beth has all three of the younger kids asleep on Eugene's sleeping bag. Beth herself seems far calmer than Eugene would have been at her age, reading one of the books he had squirrelled away.
Finally, in a town so small Eugene is surprised it has a high school instead of bussing its kids to a nearby town, they get lucky. It is probably the small size of the town that means the residents evacuated elsewhere, saving resources for other areas. The fences wouldn't really stand up to a large herd, but the football field is enclosed, so nothing can get too close without them hearing or seeing it.
Eugene slides the panel back to see that Becca is waking up now that the Humvee isn't moving, blinking sleepily as Beth sets her book aside. "You two stay put. We'll make sure it's safe, then everyone can use the bathroom."
They agree easily, and once he's shut the gate after Michonne pulls the Humvee to park nearest the concession stand, he and Michonne both eye the desolate night with trepidation. A lone walker is bumping against the fence near the visitor stands, drawn from wherever it lurked by the sound of the engine. Michonne unsheathes her katana and goes to put the miserable thing down.
"After the farm and then those towns, I keep expecting more," she mutters softly, glaring out at the dark as if not having a dozen walkers looming is upsetting. When nothing else appears, she turns to the concession stand. "Stay with the kids while I clear the building. Shouldn't be anything in either, but weirder things happen than someone choosing to wander into a stadium bathroom before they turn."
Eugene agrees, watching from near the driver's door. It would make him hate himself if he had to abandon Michonne, but he knows her order makes sense. As much practice as he's had since New Orleans, it's nothing on someone like her. His job is to keep the kids safe at all costs. It's not just that Beth carries the means to the cure in her blood. If they stop trying to keep children safe, what the hell are they saving the world for?
Lightning flashes in the west, startling him. After mentioning thunderstorms to Michonne as a possible factor in Abraham not contacting them, it feels like he's summoned one. With getting ready to leave the farm, he hadn't really paid attention to his barometer today, which is the primary predictor they have anymore for weather.
Michonne returns, wiping her katana on a wad of cheap brown paper towels before tossing them in a trash can. "Have the kids use the women's restroom. Men's is a bit of a mess."
She isn't even breathing hard, just announcing another walker kill as matter of factly as if she'd gone in and seen someone had overflowed the toilets. Smiling awkwardly, he opens the back door, which rouses AJ and Andre. Interrupted sleep doesn't sit well with Andre, who whimpers softly and reaches for his mother. Although she'd told him to direct the kids, it ends up being Michonne that takes them to the bathroom, while Eugene keeps an uneasy watch.
The air has that boiling-in-your-skin feeling he hates most about summer. The coming storm will relieve the heat somewhat, but nothing really helps long term in the South in August. At least the fan in the back of the mobile lab is solar charged to keep some air movement, since the kids are going to need to sleep in there.
"Storm's blowing in hard," Beth says, staring at the west with the intent look of a girl used to keeping an eye on the weather. Growing up on her father's farm, he supposes she is. The other three kids are exploring under Michonne's supervision, since using the bathroom seems to have woken the boys up enough to want to roam a bit.
"Rain and wind will disguise us a bit," Eugene tells her, because he's not sure how sheltered she's been. After reading those notebooks of hers, he wouldn't be surprised if she's made the logical leap. "It makes it harder for them to follow scent and sound."
"That'll be good. But it might make it harder for the others to catch up, right? Have you heard from them?"
Eugene knows most adults would just lie to children to keep them from worrying, but this isn't a world where they can do more than take their time filling in the blanks. Beth is a little too old to believe any falsehood he tries, anyway, so he shakes his head.
"Michonne and I will take turns standing watch tonight so we can keep an ear on the radio, too."
"I can help. I mean, standing watch is just keeping an eye out, right? And waking y'all up if I see or hear anything?"
"If Michonne's good with it, I don't see why not."
"What does Michonne need to be good with?" They both turn to see the woman in question smiling slightly at them, the younger kids yawning after their burst of energy.
"Beth wants to stand a watch shift."
After studying Beth for a moment, Michonne nods. "Don't see why she can't at her age. Why don't you and the kids try to get some sleep, Eugene? I know enough to properly answer the radio, and I can show Beth."
Leaving the back doors open for air circulation, Eugene stretches out with the kids. The space isn't made for this many people, which results in a giggling Andre making a nest under Eugene's desk. The oncoming storm helps with the intensity of the July heat, blowing wind hard enough that Eugene knows he'll probably have to pull the doors shut to keep them dry when the rain finally hits, but for now, he's content to doze from his spot near the back.
Three months ago, sleeping rough on the floor of a vehicle would never have been something Eugene would have done. Hell, he wouldn't have even considered camping in a fully furnished cabin back then. But day by day, he's learning to do more than just survive. Being separated from the others is intimidating and a little bit terrifying, but between him and Michonne, with Beth's help, he's sure they can keep all the kids safe.
Although they'd told Eugene they would hole up in the cab area of the Humvee, Michonne doesn't immediately aim for that. It's hot as hell, so there's no real point in sitting inside until they have to. Noting the blade at Beth's belt, Michonne decides to slake her curiosity.
"How well do you know how to use that knife?"
Beth reaches for the hilt and fiddles with it a moment. The five-inch blade appears to be a sturdy hunting knife as best Michonne can tell through the sheath. All the kids from the farm had belt knives of some sort, she'd noticed.
"I haven't taken down any walkers, if that's what you're asking," Beth admits. "Mostly learning how to handle the knife because it's heavier than a kitchen knife. There was some talk that some of us kids would get to go out and learn to put down walkers, plus a couple of the women who hadn't, but we hadn't had time yet. Shane was just teaching self-defence and how to maintain and dry fire guns. The things he could do without us leaving the farm or making a lot of noise."
Considering the big deputy's injured shoulder, Michonne isn't surprised about the limitations. He'd certainly seemed in charge of the training the one morning Michonne had to watch him at work.
"Well, since we're having to get on the road now, it's time to try a few things out. If we get another stray up to the fences while you're awake, I'll let you give it a try."
Although there's some trepidation to Beth's smile, it's there, and she agrees readily. The wind starts picking up, relieving some of the heat, so Michonne sends Beth to sleep in the cab with the doors open. She's too restless to sit still herself, so she paces around the Humvee, keeping an ear out for the radio.
When the rain finally arrives, it's not just rain. Hailstones larger than golf balls start pelting everything in sight, sending Michonne running for the safety of the Humvee's driver's seat as Eugene wakes from his dozing sleep to shut the doors. Lightning dances across the sky, giving her a glimpse of a scene nearly as bright as noon. The booming thunder that follows is something she can feel in her bones.
Next to her, Beth goes from sleepy to wide-eyed. "Do you think the glass will break?"
From the back, Eugene answers through the opened access panel. "Doubtful. It's ballistic glass, so hailstones shouldn't damage it."
"It sounds like drums, Mommy," Andre announces. Michonne can't see him, so she isn't sure if he's still curled up in his little 'cave', but he doesn't sound scared.
"Hail does sound a lot like drumming, yeah," she replies. "But we're all snug inside where the rain and hail can't get us."
"Or the lightning!" That's Becca, who is just tall enough to peer through the access panel. "It's so pretty."
The rapid flashes are quite fascinating to watch, Michonne agrees, but what concerns her is how often hailstorms accompany tornadoes, and they're sitting in the open here. She doesn't want to alarm the younger kids, but the question needs to be asked, and Beth's the only one familiar with the area. Michonne spent her entire adult life mostly in Atlanta, and she was from much further south in Georgia prior to that.
"Do you know if there's any public shelter here?"
Beth shakes her head. "No, but we could leave the field and look for some of the shelter whirlybirds. They're pretty distinctive, and most people don't lock the doors up, just in case."
Debating the risk of staying in the open in a vehicle as massive as the Humvee, Michonne finally nods. Ever since the tornado hit Atlanta's downtown two years ago, Michonne's been wary of big storms like this, especially after dark like that one had been. "I think I saw a couple on the road into town."
Abraham wanted them behind a fairly sturdy fence, but nothing about their plan included the sort of dangers that can spawn out of thunderstorms like this. Visibility is shot to hell, and Eugene sustains multiple bruises from the hail as he unlatches the gate. She edges the Humvee slowly through town, hoping that the storm deters any walkers the same as it does the living. Their luck holds, and they make it to the closest yard Michonne remembers with one of those distinctive concrete and dirt mound with the spinning metal whirlybird to circulate the interior air that signifies an underground shelter.
The yard around the doublewide mobile home is fenced, one of those standard four-foot-tall fences that are common for homeowners to keep dogs in and to remind people in general to stay out. It's not as secure as the football field, but even a four foot fence is enough of a barrier to slow down walkers in small quantities, so she jumps out and closes the driveway gate.
Backing the Humvee up close to the door, she orders everyone to stay put while she dashes back. Beth's prediction about the shelter not being locked holds, since the door opens easily. There's no sound of growling and no stench of the dead thankfully. Katana in hand, she flicks on a flashlight and sweeps the depths of the dark space.
"All clear!" she shouts, but realizes she can't be heard over the storm, so she runs back to get everyone inside and shut off the Humvee's engine. The radio in the damn thing isn't portable, which she regrets, but she can't risk the kids if this storm tips the way it seems to be going and spawns a tornado. If a twister can lift entire mobile homes, the Humvee would be child's play.
By the time she secures the door, Eugene has two camp lanterns lit and is examining the small interior of the shelter. On one side of the shelter, there are bunks that fold up to the wall, and Beth has the lower one already extended for the kids to sit on.
"They were better prepared than most for a night down here," Eugene remarks. "Lots of folks let them get pretty dusty and spider infested, but this one is tidy and has a few supplies."
Michonne looks where he's motioning, and in the back, there is a stack of plastic crates containing bottled water and some basic canned and boxed food that can be eaten without heating. It's enough for about two meals for a group their size, but most people wouldn't expect to be in a storm shelter longer than that even in the worst storm. There's also a half-empty crate that probably held the lanterns, since there's packs of spare batteries, a small first aid kit, and a now-useless weather radio still in the crate. Another half empty crate has sheets for the two bunks, and there's a pair of folded camp chairs.
"Bedding is a bit musty, but I think they probably aired it out. Spring cleaning, maybe," Beth says. Andre is laying in her lap, looking sleepy again despite the excitement, and Becca and AJ don't look much more awake. Without any visible danger, the surge of alertness is passing quickly for the children.
"Let's get some sleep where we can," Michonne suggests. "All of you can't fit in that bottom bunk, so we'll kit up the top bunk for Beth."
It doesn't take long to drop the other bunk into place and get the sheets on it, and Beth climbs up without any protest. Settling the three younger kids into the bottom bunk is a bit of tetris, but none of them protest the snug sleeping situation. Michonne and Eugene settle for the camp chairs, watching quietly as the kids drift back to sleep. The buried nature of the shelter at least means the heat isn't as oppressive as it was in the Humvee earlier, although it is warm enough that the children don't really need the top sheets she spread out over all of them.
"We'll spend the night down here," Michonne whispers to Eugene. "No sense disturbing the kids. But if the storm passes, one of us needs to go up and sleep in the cab, in case the others radio in."
Eugene nods without argument, but she's noticed he generally does when someone is making plans that don't involve his lab work. "Do you think the others found shelter before the storm?"
"Yeah. They've got the rest of Beth's family with them, so they'd know the area better than we do." If they could scramble and find this place just on basic observation, she can't imagine a group with both cops and military not finding a safe place, too. "Come morning, we'll go back to the football field and wait just like the plan stated."
He nods again, and she thinks he might be going to sleep right there in the camp chair until he speaks softly. "We can't wait indefinitely if there's no word from them."
When she startles and turns to look at him, Eugene has lost the affable expression he generally wears. There's nothing but serious concern in his eyes when he continues. "Even without the idea of a cure, there's just two of us and four children, Michonne. If the others don't make it? We've got to find somewhere we can hold secure for the kids."
The shift of objective from the dedicated scientist makes Michonne sit up straight so that she can get a good look at where Andre is snoring softly where he's curled against Becca's chest. It makes her remember the desperate days after the refugee center fell, when it was just her and Andre. Siphoning gas where she could, scrounging for food, and always terrified of Andre's fate if something happened to her - all of those things had led to her frantic search for a group even if they hadn't been the smartest of folks about long-term survival.
As much as she wants to consider the odds that everyone back on that farm not making it are astronomical, that's the sort of thinking that only worked in the old world. The combination of a massive herd plus this huge thunderstorm could spell that level of disaster for those that they left behind, and she can't imagine that Hershel or Abraham would feel any differently than Michonne does about that basic instinct of 'keep the children safe'.
"We give them three days," she states, looking back to Eugene.
"Three days," he repeats. As if it were the last thing keeping him awake, he shifts his weight, wedging himself just right not to slide out of the chair, and nods off with a skill she envies.
Awake on her own with just the dim light of the single camp lantern they're using for the night, Michonne takes a deep breath and tries to sleep herself. Surely the odds that led her to this odd group of people will keep holding and the deadline she and Eugene have just given themselves won't be needed. The world isn't that far beyond hope just yet.
