AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol was tired and her body ached from exertion, exhaustion, and from poor sleeping positions.
They'd left the farmhouse, finally deciding that it was time to move on. Each day that they didn't move on was a day when time caught up with them—and time not preparing, according to Shane, was time that moved them closer to losing a game they could still win.
Shane was, at times, a little dramatic and a little too overzealous, but Carol didn't disagree with him and neither did Daryl—at least not about this.
From what they could tell, this was real. This was their reality, and it wasn't going to change. Unlike Rick, they didn't believe that the government was hiding somewhere, watching to see what they would do, but always planning to be some kind of benevolent benefactor of sorts that would swoop in and save them in the last moment from being consumed by the world around them.
Winter was coming and, though the Georgia winters were mild in comparison to some others, they still didn't need to spend the entire time exposed to the elements and to the Walkers. Winter would also mean that Daryl was less able to hunt game for them to eat. Food would start to become scarce—or, rather, even more scarce—if they didn't start to put back and prepare as much as possible.
This wasn't the end for all of them, but it could be if they spent their time, now, making stupid decisions.
Staying in the farmhouse, when it wasn't the farmhouse that they intended to turn into a place to stay for the winter, was just wasting time. As soon as they had their breath, they decided to move on. For the time being, Rick was in agreement. Carol suspected, though, that he would agree only so long as they were moving. The moment that they suggested stopping and stocking some place to hole up for the winter, she had no doubt that all the men were going to finally reach their point of disagreement over how they should all proceed.
For now, though, they were making progress.
Sophia rode with Andrea. Carol didn't mind, since they were both well within her sight as their little caravan proceeded down the almost-empty highway. Sophia was good for Andrea. She forced Andrea, no doubt, to play a little music in the car. Knowing Sophia, she would force Andrea to sing along to some of the words. When she got tired, Sophia would lean—even if it was a bit uncomfortable to herself—to rest her head against Andrea's shoulder while she drove. Sophia was good at loving people—and she was very good at loving Andrea—and, right now, Andrea desperately needed all the love that anyone had to offer her to help her get through the grief she was struggling to simply carry.
Despite the bright sun of morning, or perhaps late afternoon, the taillights in front of them were bright as the line of cars slowed and then stopped. Daryl stopped the car, too.
"What is it?" Carol asked before she looked up from the book she was glancing at—not really reading—while they rode.
"Traffic jam," Daryl said. "Another wreck, it looks like. Cars too bunched up to get through."
Carol looked up and observed exactly what Daryl had described.
They'd cleared one wreck, not too far back, that had slowed them down at least twenty minutes. The cars had hit each other, T-boned somehow, and had come to a stop in the middle of the highway. The drivers of both cars were dead and well-rotted, though it was impossible to tell, from the state of decay, if they'd died from the wreck or if they'd been already dying from the disease that caused the Walkers. This wreck was a great deal larger. There were quite a few more cars involved. Her next question might have been whether or not they could simply go around the stilled cars, but she could answer that for herself. Obviously, in the commotion, a number of the cars had tried to go off through the median. They weren't the four-wheel-drive numbers that might have made it, and the ground had obviously been at least a little muddy the day that they'd tried it, and they were stuck, jamming up that route of escape as much as any other.
Daryl put the car in park and killed the engine. Carol turned around and looked through the rearview mirror. She could see Andrea through the windshield of her car, hands on the steering wheel, looking at her in question. Carol mouthed "wreck" and made a gesture of ramming her two hands together. Andrea made a face of recognition and nodded.
"You think we'll be able to clear it?" Carol asked.
"I think we don't got a choice if we don't wanna backtrack," Daryl said. "Nearest exit was at least a couple miles back, and then we don't know where we are."
"We're in farm country, though," Carol said. "Maybe this is a sign. Maybe we find our farm, Daryl."
"Maybe," Daryl ceded. "Either way, let's get out and see what there is. Maybe it's a quick fix. I wouldn't mind bein' just a bit further away from Atlanta. Besides—there's bound to be shit we can use in these cars, and we can siphon off some gas."
Carol opened her car door and got out. Following their lead, Andrea and Sophia got out of their car. All around them, their group members were emerging from their vehicles and stretching tired and tight muscles while they took in the sight around them of what they were facing.
Everyone began more or less gravitating toward the cluster of cars.
"How bad is it?" Daryl asked those who were coming from the front of the caravan and who would have likely already had a better look at things.
"It's not impossible," Shane said.
"Half an hour not impossible, or half a day?" Daryl asked.
"Half a day," T-Dog said before Shane could answer. "Easy."
Daryl looked around.
"Place looks pretty clear," Daryl said. "Ought to allow us half a day. When it gets later, I'll take somebody and we'll find somewhere to make a camp for the night off the highway. When we get clear, we can go straight there, set up camp, and roll on tomorrow."
"Or—we backtrack," Shane said.
"And what?" Rick asked. "Say we'll find a different route? End up lost?"
"How the hell can we be lost, man? We don't know where the hell we are now," Shane responded with evident irritation.
"We know what road we're on," Rick said. "We know we left Atlanta. Three minutes and a map would tell us where we are."
"What the hell does it matter if we get lost? Look around you, Rick. We're at the end of the world as we know it. We can backtrack a mile or so, find an exit, and get fuckin' lost, Rick. It doesn't matter. We've got nowhere to be."
"The only reason I don't wanna backtrack," Daryl interrupted, "is because I'd like a couple more miles between us and Atlanta. If people are still alive, and we ain't it for bein' left? They're likely to have an idea like Rick's—head for the city. When they get there and find that there ain't shit? They're gonna come out here—hit the highway. It'd be safer to be far enough away that we can see them before they see us."
"All the more reason not to worried about not getting lost," Shane said. "If we stay on main roads, we're less protected."
"I agree with Daryl," T-Dog said. "Let's clear the traffic here. Go on—ten or twenty miles, maybe. Start looking for something off the highway."
"So, we're just deciding that we're not going on to D.C.…just like that?" Rick asked.
"Right now, we ain't goin' no damn where," Daryl said, clearly tired of having the same round-and-round discussions. "So, we best get to work before half a day lost turns into the whole damn day and we're makin' camp right here on the blacktop."
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"I'm sorry," Andrea said. "I just—I can't do this. I just keep thinking about—about Amy and…Merle…and I…I'm sorry."
Carol kept rubbing large circles around Andrea's back. She'd done pretty well for a while.
While some of the men had worked rolling cars out of the way and moving them around like puzzle pieces to open up more and more space for them to move through the large traffic jam that, under further inspection, ran for a much longer distance than they'd originally realized, and others had put themselves to the task of siphoning off gas from every vehicle they moved, the women had put their efforts into picking through the vehicles and amassing goods. They planned to pack them into the backs of their own vehicles, planning to fill every available nook and cranny.
Carol didn't know what had happened out here—or what exactly had caused all of this—but many of the cars held decaying bodies. Some showed evidence of suicide, but others didn't. Some may have been killed by the wreck, others by the virus, and others—especially those with their doors ajar—may have actually been killed by Walkers, which would explain the torn-up bodies practically dripping over seatbelts as they rotted.
Andrea had been somewhat squeamish about reaching around the bodies, as they all had, since it was unpleasant to say the least, but she'd done it until she'd accidentally lost her balance when trying to reach across one of the bodies and had, in a way, fallen and sunk into the corpse. She'd vomited in response to her misfortune and, then, she'd dissolved into what Carol might call hysterics while stripping out of her clothes, as Carol's mother would have said, in front of God and everyone else.
She was mostly calm now, dressed in something clean, and she'd drank a half a bottle of water to calm her stomach, but she clearly didn't want to return to the task at hand.
"Nobody's enjoying this task, Andrea," Lori said. "But this is how we provide for the group. If we all sat out everything that made us uncomfortable…"
Carol swallowed back the desire to say everything she thought about saying, at that moment, to Lori—especially about everything she managed to sit out on a regular basis and with a much worse excuse.
"It's OK," Carol said to Andrea, instead. "You don't have to pick around the bodies. Take a couple of the empty cars. Or—just do the trunks. If you want, we need someone to start packing everything we've found into the RV. Dale made room for it, but someone's got to move it in."
"Yeah," Andrea said quickly. "I can do that. I can—put things away."
"Don't worry," Lori said, picking up an empty bag from the pile of bags they'd been gathering out of vehicles. "We'll handle the dirty jobs."
Carol rolled her eyes as Lori trailed off to go pluck water bottles and packs of crackers out of travelers' luggage. She patted Andrea's shoulder again.
"Don't listen to her," she said, shaking her head. "You've—lost a lot. And it's natural that you're uncomfortable with the bodies right now. Having this stuff put away will help us in the long run. At least we don't have to rush to toss it somewhere when they get the cars moved. Just—get some air. Then, you can put this away and keep an eye on the kids," Carol gestured toward Sophia and Carl who, remaining inside something of a circle created by everyone, were eating a snack together while sitting in the open back of a SUV.
"Thanks," Andrea said, squeezing Carol's arm. "I really am sorry."
"Don't say it again," Carol said, only half-teasing. "And don't listen to Lori. Loading stuff and helping Dale keep an eye on the kids is every bit as important as mining for peanut butter."
Carol left Andrea with that. She waved up at Dale who, sitting on top of the RV in a folding chair, was keeping watch for anything that might interest them or might appear over the horizon, while also keeping something of a watch on everyone in the group. He waved back at her from his perch. Then, she walked over to where Sophia and Carl were and, moving close to her daughter, she planted a kiss on her forehead—hot from the sun. She squeezed her, and Sophia laughed at her mother's affection.
"Andrea's right there," Carol said. "She's going to be loading all that stuff into the RV. You listen to her—both of you. Don't wander off. Don't leave her sight. And when you finish your snack? Help her carry things, OK?"
Sophia quickly agreed and, just to be like Sophia, Carl agreed as well. Carol squeezed Sophia once more, gathered up a couple of the empty bags, and started making her way back through the maze of cars to find one that hadn't been picked clean yet to work on.
Carol picked cars clean for a while. She stopped, every now and again, to glance around her and take inventory of everything that was going on. She made note of where everyone was. She drank a few bottles of water and dampened a rag that she used to wiped at her face and neck.
She filled bags and piled them near her, deciding to carry quite a few of them in one load rather than to make a large number of trips all the way back to the RV—especially as she moved further and further away from it in her work.
Like everyone, she was completely shocked and caught off guard by Dale's shouts. Like everyone, it took her a moment to realize that Walkers were coming and, for Walkers, they seemed to be coming quickly. There was a large herd of them passing through on their way to wherever it was they got a notion to go.
A wave of cold panic washed over Carol. Her blood felt like ice in her veins. There were Walkers, now, between her and Sophia and Andrea—both of whom would be near the RV—and there was a decent amount of distance between her and Daryl, who she had last seen walking toward some of their harvested items for a bottle of water or a cigarette.
Carol slid under the car nearest her, following the lead of Lori who was only one car away from her. Underneath the cars, Carol couldn't see much—the passing by of feet and Lori, under the car next to her, was really all that the view allowed. Carol closed her eyes, held her breath, and prayed. She prayed for the herd to pass. She prayed for everyone to be left safe. She prayed for…everything.
And she stayed as still as she possibly could as the herd passed by her without realizing she was there.
When the last of the feet had shuffled by, and the majority of the Walkers seemed far enough behind her that it was safe to come out—Carol eased out from under the car on the side of the vehicle that landed her next to Lori. Lori dusted off her knees, like Carol, and they looked around. A few Walkers still shuffled here and there. Some commotion, out of nowhere, came from the direction of the RV.
Carol heard Andrea scream. She heard Dale yelling—words that she couldn't understand.
She heard Sophia and Carl scream.
She saw bodies moving in that direction—people she knew but, in the chaos of the moment, couldn't even be bothered to recognize.
And then her heart stopped dead in her chest when she saw Sophia and Carl running, both as fast as they could, down the steep, grassy bank on the side of the highway—off toward the woods—with two Walkers shuffling behind them with more agility than any corpse ever should have had.
Carol was sure that she screamed, but the blood rushing in her own ears made it impossible to hear the sound.
She tried to run in that direction, but something held her back, nearly dropping her to her knees with suddenly stopped momentum.
"My baby!" She screamed, finally managing to get words out that she could hear. "Those things are after my baby!"