Part 7: Tribute
The conversation from the previous dinner had been a prophecy. Just as everyone feared, the water rose with the night's rainfall. Their time near the pond was over. Breakfast was the last thought on anyone's mind as the damage was assessed. Sludge covered the campsite floor and threatened to trap the tires of all the vehicles. Dampness clung in the air, reminding Sasha that a new season was coming soon. She pulled Daryl aside as the Cassidy family started packing their belongings.
"We have to make a decision now," she said.
"Your mind's already made up." Daryl's eyes narrowed. "Just say it."
"Lorenzo has room in his truck," Sasha said. "and he invited us to join him. We'd be fools not to."
"With Clay and Nash taking off like they done, we ain't taking chances on foot," he said. "I'll let Lorenzo know we're comin'. Don't go off nowhere."
Sasha rolled her eyes. "Who's giving orders now?"
He gave her a half smile before he shouldered his crossbow and headed toward Lorenzo and Nik. Sasha crawled into the rear of the Explorer to gather their things. They didn't have much, but she wanted to keep what little they had managed to hold on to after the fall of the prison. As she started rolling the sleeping bags, Dawn joined her.
"Hey, I hear y'all are coming with us." Dawn helped her zip one of the bags close before they started on the other one. "Glad to hear it."
Sasha nodded. "We appreciate you taking us in."
"Good people are hard to come by." Dawn added in a low voice, "I can't say I'm sorry the cousins dipped out. A little surprised, though."
"Me too, especially since they left the RV."
"Who has gas for these guzzlers?" Dawn asked. "They're on foot and we have vehicles. So wherever they're headed, we can put miles between us."
Sasha and Daryl piled into Lorenzo's truck with Sasha in the middle. Nik, Dawn, and Dominik took the Explorer, and they headed out first. Sasha remembered the thrill of travel from when she and Tyrese were kids, but since the change, her life seemed consumed with moving and she was tired of it. The prison had been more than a sanctuary; it had been home. She wondered if that would ever exist again.
"Hey…" Daryl placed his hand on her thigh, an inch or two from her knee. "Um… you okay?"
"I'm good." She looked at him and found him staring. She wanted to say something to break her mood, but static hummed near her left ear. Then she heard Nik's voice come through the walkie-talkie clipped to the driver's sun visor.
"Bro, pick up! Ten-4, over."
Lorenzo grabbed the walkie-talkie. "What? These are for emergencies, dude. You're wasting batteries."
"Turn on the CB."
"Sorry," Lorenzo said. "Forgot."
Sasha took the walkie-talkie as Lorenzo flipped the CB radio on. He adjusted the dial to their agreed channel and Dominik's voice came through.
"Uncle! You there...Oh, 10-4."
"I'm here. Over." Lorenzo chuckled.
Sasha tuned out their conversation. The walkie-talkie reminded her of childhood. Tyrese had gotten a pair of talkies one Christmas. Always the generous older brother, he let her play with them and they had the craziest and most imaginative adventures. She sighed. Thoughts of her brother caught her at the strangest moments. She preferred not thinking about him at all. It was easier that way. Easier to pretend that he was alive out there somewhere.
"Sasha?" Daryl's voice grated close to her ear.
"Tyrese and I had a pair of these when we were kids," she said, pushing through the hoarseness in her voice. "Can you believe he tore his attic apart trying to find them before we headed out?"
Daryl extended his hand palm up. She gave him the walkie-talkie. He inspected it and Sasha was sure he would have found defects if the thing had any. The expression on his face became guarded. She hesitated about pushing him, but she needed something to get her mind off Tyrese. Leaving the campground was putting miles between them and the prison. If her brother was near there, moving on made it difficult to find him but she had little choice but to move on.
"What's wrong with it?" she asked.
"Nothing," he muttered. "I ain't ever have a toy that actually worked or nothing high tech like this."
"This isn't high tech."
"If you come from my neighborhood, it is." He gave the walkie-talkie back to her. "My fishing pole and crossbow were the closest things I had to toys. Maybe some marbles I found that Merle had and didn't want no more."
She nodded.
"I don't want you feeling sorry for me or nothing," he grumbled just low enough for her to hear.
"I don't." Sasha saw that his blue eyes were troubled and uncertain. She offered assurance the best way she could. She took his hand. "Your skills have kept us fed and protected. Why would I feel sorry about that?"
She would have said more but a sign nailed to a pole caught her attention. It was a map and the destination was, "Terminus."
"Huh?" Daryl asked. "Did you see a sign?"
"Yeah, we just passed it. I couldn't read anything else. Went by too fast."
"That's the place I was telling you about."
"Y'all talking about that sanctuary?" Lorenzo asked.
"Did you see the sign?" Sasha asked.
"Saw something, but I wasn't paying attention," he answered.
"Think it's safe?" she asked. The words slipped before she could pull them back. What was safe now? Did the word mean anything anymore? After everything they'd seen and done?
"That's the question, isn't it?" Lorenzo asked. "Nik isn't so sure. Wants to check it out real good before we go."
"Could be Clay and Nash headed there," Daryl said. "If they are, Sasha and me can find our own way—"
"Hold on," Lorenzo cut in. "Nothing's carved in stone."
"Tyrese could be there," Sasha said quietly.
"Who's Tyrese?" Lorenzo asked.
"My brother."
Lorenzo nodded as if he understood everything that hadn't been said. "As it stands now, we don't have a plan except for dry ground. Better yet, a dry building. What you call them… walkers? A dry building, walker-free."
"I recognize this. We were planning a run this way before…" Daryl said, "There are a couple of stores up ahead that ain't been hit too hard. We can stock up, and consider our options. We cut out before breakfast and I'm 'bout ready for some grub. Sasha?"
"Sounds good."
Lorenzo pulled into the left lane and gunned the accelerator. "Roll down your window. I'm tired of the static. Tell Nik the new plan."
$%^&
Light filtered through the slats of wood covering the former law office lobby windows. Michonne guessed that several hours had passed since the group of men found her and the Grimes men in the woods. The leader, Joe, had his men bind them and forced them to this deserted town and building. She sensed Rick was on the fringe of losing control and imagined that's what Joe wanted. He wanted them on edge and worried about his next move. She had been in worst situations and giving Joe what he wanted, just wasn't in her.
Their belongings had been stacked on a desk in the center of the room. Her katana. Carl's hat. Rick's jacket and his Colt. The men also laid out the food and toiletries she, Rick, and Carl had managed to stockpile along the way. Across the room, she noticed Rick's shoulders twitching as he tried to work the ties loose. She looked to her left to check on Carl. He was busy staring wide-eyed at the men whose temperament had begun to shift.
Michonne identified the men by body type or other characteristics. Slim was the fair-skinned black guy with a bandana. Biker was the older white guy with a thick beard and tattoos on his neck. Roid-boy was the younger white guy who looked as if still spent too much time in the gym. Then there was Chubs whose girth decided her name for him and from what she could tell, seemed to pay far too much attention to Carl. Once she was free, Michonne and the katana would see to Chubs first. Of course, there was Joe.
"The sword's mine," Roid said with a grin. He reached for the katana but Biker beat him to it.
"Too late," Biker said. "Already claimed it."
"That's bullshit." Roid pulled on the strap, but Biker's grip was strong.
"You know the rules." Biker laughed.
"Colt—"
"Claimed it," Slim said. "You're too slow, kid."
"I didn't want the dumb gun away," Roid said. "Any dumbass can have a gun. Fuck the gun and the sword. I'm claiming the woman first—"
Within seconds, the disagreement escalated. Roid lunged at Biker and the older man was ready for him. The two scuffled. The other men stepped back and did nothing to stop it. Michonne looked at Rick and found him staring back at her. Unbridled rage burned in his eyes. She frowned. Didn't he understand that's what Joe wanted? She wasn't afraid of them. She was more afraid of what would happen to the three of them as a whole.
Loud grunts pulled her attention away from Rick. Simultaneous thuds vibrated through the carpeted floor. They had both driven knives into the other's belly and stabbed the other dead.
Joe shook his head in disgust. "Dammit! Get 'em out of here."
Chubs and Slim grabbed a body each and removed them. The thumps sounded as if they rolled or kicked the corpses into the street. Michonne hoped they had sense enough to pierce their skulls, too. She was about to voice her thoughts, but Joe turned his anger to the three of them.
"We were a peaceable group, you asshole," he said to Rick. "We had rules and everything was going along just fine until you came along. You have three deaths on your head now instead of the one. Three for three."
"Let'em go!" Rick said through clenched teeth. "You have me. Do what you want. But let them go!"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Joe asked. "But what would you learn from that? Not a damn thing, I'd wager. Letting them go would give you what you want. There's no punishment in that. Nothing."
"They haven't done a damn thi—"
"It's what they can do," Joe said. "It's what they do for you. They're tools. I'd decided before I found you that your punishment would be slow, but I think I've found a better way to go about it."
Chubs and Slim returned. They lingered near the door as they listened to Joe. By now, Joe had positioned himself to include Carl and Michonne in his conversation with Rick. Michonne guessed his next words in the minutes before he even spoke. Men like him weren't a mystery. Their predictability was pathetically easy.
"Hurting you is too simple and while we are simple men, causing the death of our own requires more than simplistic punishment." Joe folded his arms across his chest. He looked first at Carl and then at Michonne. "The thing is hurting them will hurt you more, but which one will hurt you the most? Your boy or your woman?"
Rick's face reddened and his shoulders moved more. Carl gasped as he stared at her. His fear reached her and it felt cold and lonely. She stumbled to her feet and said, "Me. Take me. Hurt me."
$%^&
The area hadn't changed much since the last time Daryl checked for supplies. Since the prison fell, he'd lost track of time, but he was sure it was mid-summer when he and Glenn came through one afternoon. They had spotted the hardware store, clinic, department store, pharmacy, and a rundown law office all on the same block. Some walkers lingered in the neighborhood so they decided to come back later. Maybe get a list from Hershel for their trip to the clinic and pharmacy. So much for that. Daryl tugged his bottom lip. Hershel was dead. No telling where everyone else was.
He looked down where Sasha still rested her hand on his. He knew that only luck brought them together. He'd be damned if he let anything take her away from him. The possessive stirring surprised Daryl. He never figured himself for that type, but he'd never really had cause to be before. His flesh suddenly burned hot and cold. He shifted against the passenger door, his thigh slamming hard against the door handle. A grunt lodged in his throat.
"You okay?" Sasha asked.
"Fine," he mumbled.
Nik parked the Explorer with the rear facing the stores and Lorenzo also backed into a space beside them. They met in the center of the street. Everyone had weapons of some sort. A couple of walkers ambled toward them and Daryl got them with his crossbow.
"Damn," Dawn said. "That's cool. Nik…"
"If I can find one, it's yours," her husband said.
"Dad—"
"You too," Nik said.
Lorenzo laughed. "World is insane and some things never change."
"Nope," Nik said with a grin. "Okay. Who's got what? There's the hardware store and what used to be Dollar General."
"Clinic and a pharmacy, too," Daryl said.
"We can do the hardware store," Sasha said.
"Let's check out the clinic," Dawn suggested to her husband.
"I'm going with them," Lorenzo said. He pointed at the walkie-talkie clipped to his nephew's belt. "Call if you need us."
"You do the same," Nik said. Lorenzo had attached his walkie to his belt, too. "Don't be a hero," Nik added. "We've made it this far together. All it takes is one stupid mistake. Never forget that."
"Yes, big bro." Lorenzo saluted.
The two groups parted. Daryl took lead. The hardware store had a few more walkers which proved not too difficult for the three of them. Sasha handled the stick like a pro, but Daryl decided she needed something better. While he searched through the trashed aisle, he heard Lorenzo check in on the walkie-talkie.
"Nik, come in," he said.
"What's up?" Nik asked.
"Our building's clear," Lorenzo said. "How's with you?"
"Good. We took out five." Nik said. "It's not so bad in here. If we need to sleepover, this could be it."
Daryl kicked through trashed tents and camping supplies before he found the treasure he was looking for. The bowie knife wasn't perfect, but far better than a stick. He found a sharpener hidden on the bottom shelf. The knife slipped easily inside its leather sheath. The side release buckle was an added bonus. He saw Sasha head toward the stock room and he followed her.
She had a full duffel bag at her feet and stack of arrows resting across the bag. "Will these work?"
"Hell, yeah." Daryl handed her the knife and sharpener. "Better than the stick."
"Thank—" She smiled. "Never mind."
He grabbed the arrows and added them to his pack. These were better than what he had and the tips were razor sharp. He glanced up and found her watching. Heat burned his cheeks and he could imagine how many shades of red colored his face. Maybe dirt hid most of it.
"Did you hear that?" she asked. She was at the window. "Daryl!"
"What?" He rushed to her side. "Oh, shit."
"Ready to hit the next one?" Lorenzo asked as he entered the room. "What are y'all looking at?"
"One of ours is over there," Daryl said. He pointed to the building next door. Michonne's long, dark hair was unmistakable as was the calm, precise way she held her body. Other figures moved about. Too much dirt and grime on the windows prevented a clear view, but Daryl often went with his gut which never failed him. His instinct told him that everything about Michonne's stance was wrong.
"It's Michonne for sure," Sasha said quietly.
"That's Rick." Daryl touched her shoulder. "Listen."
"I don't understand what he's saying," she said. "The shouting…"
"Doesn't matter," Daryl said. "I know that's him."
"They're in trouble," Lorenzo said.
"Sounds like it," Daryl said. "We gotta go—"
"Wait." Lorenzo said. "Can't go rushing in. We don't know what the hell's happening. Besides my brother and his family are out there. We gotta warn them first. Just hold on one minute."
Daryl glared at Sasha who nodded. "He's right," she said softly. "One minute."
Lorenzo contacted Nik on the walkie-talkie. The brothers agreed to meet at the clinic because it had a better view of the law office. Once they got there, the men started planning and Daryl could feel Sasha's anger burn. He could deal with her pissy mood, but what he couldn't handle was something happening to her. Nik had already decided that Dawn and Dominik would remain at the clinic. Daryl had half a mind to lay down the law with Sasha. The idea felt odd to him, but something about Michonne's posture got to him. He didn't know what the hell they were running into over there. He doubted if he'd be able to think straight if he were worried about Sasha, too.
"Forget it, Daryl," she said, sharpening her new knife. "I'm not hiding or waiting around. Tyrese could be with them."
"You comin'," he growled, "you stayin' with me. No runnin' off. Understand?"
"You're not my daddy."
"Damn straight I'm not," he said.
"I see a boy and a man tied up," Dominik said, peering through a pair of binoculars from his perch at the front windows. "The man looks pissed. I can't see the woman… Wait. She's standing up. Her hands are tied behind her."
"How many men are holding them?" Dawn asked.
"Hold on, Mama," Dominik said. "One…two… Oh, there's a kinda fat guy. He's near the boy."
"Weapons?" Lorenzo asked.
"A sword. Wow. Sweet—"
"Focus, Dom," Nik said.
"Sorry, Dad. There's a gun. Long barrel. The older guy has a gun or knife on his belt. I can't tell what it is."
"What does the other guy have?" Daryl asked.
"The sword and the knife," Dominik answered. "He's pointing them at the woman. The tied up man is not happy."
"We gotta go," Daryl said.
$%^&
"Me," she said. "Take me. Hurt me."
"NO!" Rick struggled to get to his feet. Something struck him from behind. He dropped to his knees, but he didn't lose consciousness. Ringing sounded in his ears. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He blinked to focus.
The men had found straws and were drawing to see who'd go first. He turned his head and connected with Michonne's unwavering stare. She looked so regal, standing there. Her gaze was a mixture of disapproval, understanding, and resolve. She shook her head at him and mouthed, "I'm okay."
But Rick wasn't. Across the room, Carl's face was unrecognizable with rage and fear. Tears pooled in his son's eyes as he stared at Michonne. He struggled to get loose and that's when Rick noticed how the fat one's attention was more fixated on his son than on the lottery for Michonne.
"No, this one's a half inch longer," the tall black guy was saying.
"That's what you always say," Joe said. "Not true this time."
Their conversation was only background noise to Rick. None of that mattered when the fat guy grabbed Carl and started tugging on the boy's belt. Rick didn't think. He pulled until the bindings snapped free. Then he threw himself at the man holding Carl. Unnamed emotions fueled Rick as the two struggled. The man's weight proved little match against Rick's determination to protect his family. Punches went back and forth. Finally, the man held Rick in a bear hug. A sinister grin lit his round face.
"I'll have him anyway," he growled. "You'll be dead and he'll still be mine."
At those words, Rick bared his teeth and went straight for the other man's jugular. In one move, Rick tore through the man's flesh and ripped his throat with only his teeth. Blood spewed like a fountain. He landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Silence descended as the two bickering men stopped to look in wonder at Rick's accomplishment.
Joe reacted first. Gun in hand, he aimed at Rick, but before he could shoot, an arrow pierced straight through his back and came out his chest. He died instantly. The black guy tried to make a run for it, but a bullet to the head stopped him cold.
Rick needed a moment to register the threat was over. Michonne held Carl in her arms. Somehow, Daryl and Sasha were there, too. So were two other men that Rick didn't know. He reached for his Colt.
"They're with us," Daryl said.
Later, the two groups settled down the block in a former bank. The clinic was just too close to the law office and Rick wanted Michonne and Carl to have a peaceful night if that was possible. To their good luck, the water was still working in the building and they had lanterns, candles, and a few flashlights from the hardware store. Rick lit a lantern and headed to the men's room. The reflection staring back at him wasn't a stranger, but a part of him felt that he should have been.
The outer door creaked open and familiar voice said, "Hey."
Rick paused in washing his face to hug Daryl. "Hey yourself. Your timing, man."
Daryl shrugged. "You'd've done the same for me."
Rick nodded. "Yeah."
He finished washing up and drying off. Conversation had never been his way. That was always Shane. Rick was more of a listener. He caught Daryl's reflection in the mirror. The other man didn't seem wary or put off, but Rick guessed that something was on his mind. If Rick thought of anyone as his brother, it was Daryl Dixon. If he had seen censure on Daryl's face, nothing would have changed between them. But he still had to go and face Carl and Michonne. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that, but if he had to do it over again, he wouldn't change a thing.
"You and Sasha headed out together?" Rick asked. He tugged into a clean t-shirt that had been taken from Dollar General. The aroma of canned beans and chili drifted down the hall as they exited the restroom. His stomach unleashed a loud growl. Food had been the last thing on his mind until then.
"She found me," Daryl said. "I got out with Beth."
His friend's tone stopped him. Rick hesitated. "Yeah? What happened? She dead?"
"Gone." Daryl frowned. "We were together. Then we weren't. Sasha found me. Then we met up with the Cassidys."
"What you think about them?" Rick's gaze drifted toward the bank lobby. A small fire had been contained inside a trash can. Nik had created a grill and his wife was busy with dinner. Their son appeared to be helping by opening cans and getting whatever she asked of him. Nik, Lorenzo, and Sasha were busy fortifying the windows and doors. He frowned when he didn't spot Michonne and Carl right off.
"They're in the manager's office," Daryl said.
Rick nodded. "Tell me about the Cassidys."
"They're good people," Daryl said. "Some cousins were a part of the group 'til this mornin', not their blood kin. Nash and Clay. We'll have to watch out for 'em."
"That's why they hid the cars?" Rick asked.
"Yeah."
Sasha grumbled as her grip on a board slipped and Daryl headed toward her without a word. Rick watched them work together and noticed how in sync they were. Soft footfalls came behind him. He relaxed as Michonne touched his waist. He reached behind him and took her hand.
"How's he doing?"
"Sleeping," she said. "I don't think we should wake him to eat."
"I think you're right." He shifted so that they were facing each other. The soft glow of the lanterns and candles provided enough light for him to see the warmth and concern on her beautiful face. "You okay?"
Michonne nodded. "Yeah."
"I'm okay," he said.
"I know," she said with a half-smile.
He frowned. "How?"
"Because I'm okay, too."
Rick pulled her to him and rested his face in the hollow of her neck. The fresh scent of soap, toothpaste and packaged t-shirts mingled with her unique, delicious aroma. A faint tremble went through him as he drew in a deep breath. Her arms tightened around him. Michonne's embrace was solid, strong, and comforting. And everything Rick needed.
[A/N: I hope everyone is having a wonderful, joyous holiday. Sundays without TWD is a test of willpower and courage, but alas… Thank you for reading, reviewing/commenting/kudoing, favoriting, and following! Your enthusiasm for this story (especially Sashyl or Dasha) is the best kind of motivation! I took the advice to include Rick's ultimate moment and added a twist. I also couldn't resist adding one of my favorite Richonne conversations from "A." It felt like the best way to end the chapter. The gang's back together! I'm still a little on the fence about Terminus or if it will be anything like the season opener. Of course, Terminus = cannibals, but I don't know much more than that in regards to this fic, yet. There are still 4 loose cannons to deal with (Lee/Aaron and Clay/Nash). Thoughts? As always, thanks for reading and if another chapter isn't posted before 12/31/14...Happy New Year!]
