CHAPTER 7
The ringing from the gunfire began to fade away in Rick's ears as the few Woodburians that stayed at the fence line walked over to John and congratulated him for shooting down the last of the walkers.
"Dios Mío, that's how you do it!" Juan grinned as he patted John on the shoulder.
"Muchas gracias, John," Marianna smiled gratefully at the Vietnam veteran.
"Nice shooting, Davy Crockett," Michael grinned as he shook John's hand.
"It's about time somebody used some common sense around here!" Alicia cheered.
The statement broke the tension and the Woodburians began to cheer and applaud. John smiled, slung the M4A1 rifle over his shoulder, and resumed shaking hands.
Rick's hands balled into fists and he started walking towards John.
"Rick…" Michonne said as she grabbed his wrist.
Rick shook her grip free and continued walking. He leapt atop the hood of the prison's squad car, leapt down onto the other side of the fence line and stood in front of John. "Can I have a word with you alone please?" he asked curtly.
John blinked nervously and his complexion turned pale as Rick continued to glare at him. "S...sure," he stammered.
Rick started walking forward; John stepped out of his way, and so did the small crowd of Woodburians. Next, Rick began walking up the gravel road to the prison's courtyard, and John ran to catch up to him.
•••
Atop the destroyed guard tower, Daryl and Carol watched as Rick stomped up the gravel road with John trailing behind him. "Looks like those two are gonna throw down," Daryl said as he slung his Stryker Strykezone 380 crossbow over his shoulder.
"You really think they're going to fight?" Carol asked Daryl as she lowered the Remington 700 bolt action rifle to her side.
"They might as well get it over with," Daryl answered as he looked at Carol, "can't have two alpha males in the same pack. You remember what happened between Rick and Shane?"
Carol looked down at her boots as she remembered the tension between the group's original leader and his best friend and partner in law enforcement. From the day Rick joined the group at the quarry outside Atlanta—and reunited with his family, Lori and Carl—he and Shane disagreed on what was best for the group. Their disagreements led to arguments, especially after Carol's daughter Sophia was lost in the woods, and Shane wanted to continue on to Ft. Benning, while Rick wanted to continue searching for the young girl. Carl was shot in a hunting accident, and that led to the group meeting the Greene family and moving onto their farm. Hershel performed emergency surgery on Carl and saved the young boy's life, but Sophia needed to be found. Daryl almost died looking for her, and as he healed, Carol's hopes for finding her daughter grew dimmer.
Days after Daryl was back on his feet, Glenn reluctantly told the group about the walkers Hershel collected inside his barn, and Shane broke them out, and the group gunned them down as they staggered out…with the last one being Sophia herself.
After Sophia's death, Carol withdrew from the group—with Daryl being the lone exception—but she saw Rick and Shane's friendship continue to deteriorate. It finally came to a head over Randall, a young man who tried to kill Rick, and who was part of a larger, violent group. Shane led Randall into the woods, killed him, and then returned to the farm with a self-inflicted broken nose and claiming Randall had escaped. The group armed themselves and searched the woods in pairs, with Shane insisting Rick stay with him.
Night fell soon after, followed by a gunshot, and a herd of walkers staggering onto the farm minutes later. That morning the scattered group reunited on the spot on the highway where they lost Sophia, and continued on until they nearly ran out of gas. After they set up camp, several people—Carol included—talked openly of splitting up; that's when an enraged Rick revealed that Shane lied about Randall escaping, and had led him into a field so he could kill him, but he turned the tables on Shane and stabbed his best friend to death.
But there was more than disagreements on survival and planning between Rick and Shane: Lori and Shane had begun a secret relationship at the quarry. When Rick returned, Lori put an immediate end to what had really been an affair, but Shane couldn't let go of Lori…or the unborn child that was growing inside her womb.
"Yes, I remember," Carol answered as she looked at Daryl. "I know Shane made some mistakes, but he was right about some things, like going straight to Ft. Benning, putting down the walkers in the barn, and executing Randall."
Daryl tilted his head. "Are you serious?"
"You mean about putting down the walkers in the barn? Yes, I am serious."
Daryl shook his head slightly. "Sophia…"
"That wasn't my little girl. I told you that, Daryl."
Daryl grimaced as he remembered the aftermath of the barn massacre: finding Carol inside Hershel's RV, sitting at the table and staring out the window; he sat on the counter and kept her company. Minutes later Lori stepped inside the RV.
"They're ready. Come on," Lori said, meaning the funeral for Sophia and the dead members of the Greene family was about to start.
Carol looked down at the table. "Why?" she asked.
"'Cause that's your little girl," Daryl answered.
Carol looked up at Daryl. "That's not my little girl. That's some other thing." Carol looked out the window again and said, "My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time I thought…She didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago."
Lori stepped out of the RV, and a moment later so did Daryl, who was angry at Carol for being cold hearted towards the memory of dead daughter, and angry at himself for nearly getting killed searching for a little girl who was already dead, but for giving a damn about her and her distraught mother in the first place.
But Daryl's anger towards Carol faded with time. And now, after putting down his big brother Merle after the Governor killed him and left him to turn into a walker, Daryl realized what Carol had meant in the RV: their loved ones were dead, and what came back were monsters.
"You know somethin'?" Daryl asked Carol. "You're right."
Carol raised her eyebrows whimsically. "Really?"
"Yeah. Sophia. Merle. They're gone. And I'd rather Merle's corpse rest six feet under instead of it walkin' around and eatin' God knows who."
Carol looked at the horizon and considered Daryl's statement for a few moments. "I understand," she said when she looked at him again. "I prayed so hard that we'd find Sophia, but when she came out of that barn..." A tear ran down Carol's cheek and she wiped it away with her hand. "Shane did the right thing. Rick never would've convinced Hershel to let us clear out that barn. We would've moved on and Sophia would still be in that barn today."
Daryl nodded in agreement, and Carol slung the Remington 700 over her shoulder and walked over to the trap door in the center of the floor; she knelt down and reached for the trap door's chain.
"Wait!" Daryl pleaded.
Carol pulled her hand back, looked up at Daryl, and saw the desperate look on his face. "What's wrong?" Carol asked Daryl as she stood up.
"I need to tell you somethin'," Daryl answered as he walked over to Carol.
"What's that?" Carol asked as she adjusted the hunting rifle's weight on her shoulder.
Daryl stood across from Carol and stared at her blue eyes, her pale skin, the worried expression on her beautiful face, and how a light breeze rustled across her short, grey hair. For a few moments, he forgot what he was going to say to her.
"I'm sorry," Daryl said finally.
Carol blinked. "What?" she asked.
"I'm sorry about Sophia," Daryl explained. "I should've said that after the barn, but I didn't because I was pissed off at what you said and pissed off at myself for failin' to find her."
Carol didn't reply, but a small smile appeared on her face.
"A few days ago when were at the feed mill to get Merle, you said you were sorry, but I barely noticed you gave a damn," Daryl continued as he rubbed the back of his neck embarrassingly. "So…I'm…sorry too for bein' a jackass."
Carol smile grew broader and she walked around the trap door, put her hand on the back of Daryl's head, pulled him down, and kissed his forehead. Carol let go and Daryl blushed as he stood straight.
"Thank you," Carol said warmly.
Carol knelt down, opened the trap door and walked down the winding staircase. Daryl's trembling hand touched the spot on his forehead where Carol kissed him and he remembered last year when she kissed him on the temple as he lay in bed after he was injured during his search for Sophia. She kissed me again, Daryl thought.
•••
Rick reached the courtyard and placed his right hand on the walnut grip of his Colt Python revolver as he waited for John to catch up to him.
"Dad!" Carl shouted cheerfully as he waved his hands to get his father's attention.
Rick's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Carl's voice, and he looked over at Cell Block C and saw Carl standing beside the laundry cart filled with guns, just like he told him too. Rick smiled and raised a hand to acknowledge his son's cheering.
"Is there a problem, Rick?" a voice asked.
Rick looked to his left and saw John standing beside him, with the M4A1 rifle slung over his shoulder. Rick faced the Vietnam veteran and glared at him. "Yeah, you're damn right there's a—"
"John! John are you all right?!" a woman asked worriedly.
Rick now looked to his right and saw Donna running over to him and John. Behind Donna was Henry and construction crew, and they held in their hands hammers, screwdrivers, and wrenches. Rick took a step back and Donna ran past him and embraced her husband.
"I'm fine, hon," John grinned as he wrapped his arms around his wife and returned the embrace.
"What happened down there?" Henry asked as he gestured towards the gate.
John let go of Donna and she stood by his left side. "Oh, you might say the walkers got themselves a taste of…," and John paused for a moment to unsling the M4A1 rifle from his shoulder and held it up in the air, "good old made in the U.S.A. firepower!"
Tyreese looked downhill at the dozens of dead walkers lying sprawled in the field and he shook his head in dismay. Henry and the rest of the construction crew, however, applauded and walked past Rick to surround John and Donna and pat her husband on his back.
"Good job, buddy!" Gregg cheered.
"Next time, save some for the rest of us," Alonso grinned.
John laughed. "I'll try, but no promises."
Rick shook his head in disgust; he pushed his way through the construction crew and snatched the rifle by its handguard.
"Hey, what the hell…?" John asked startled.
"John and I need to talk," Rick spat as he looked at the construction crew.
"Go right ahead," Henry said.
"Alone!" Rick replied curtly.
The construction crew looked at Henry and Henry looked at John, who nodded in approval. "Yeah, no problem," Henry muttered as he walked back to the motor pool; the construction crew following behind him.
"I'd…I'd like to see about the baby. That is if you don't mind," Donna asked Rick.
Rick's features softened. "Not at all. Thank you, Donna," he answered.
Donna smiled at Rick, then she stood on her toes, gave John a kiss on his cheek, and she walked towards the side door of Cell Block C. John blushed and rubbed the spot on his cheek where Donna kissed him like he brushed against poison ivy.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Rick asked John angrily.
John's hand dropped to his side and he looked at Rick. "What?" he asked.
"Shooting this rifle!" Rick said as he shook the weapon for emphasis. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
John put his hands on his hips and looked at Rick like he was looking at an unruly trainee at the factory he worked in after Vietnam. "I thought I was saving your life!" he answered angrily.
"I had it under control!"
"Bullshit! You, Michonne, and those two kids were standing outside the fences with your pig stickers against a goddamn herd!"
"I said I had it under control!" Rick repeated. "I've lost count of the times I've been in situations like that! What about you, John?"
John glared at Rick. "I served my country, you son of a bitch."
"Right, you've told me that many times before," Rick nodded. "But this isn't Vietnam and those aren't the Viet Cong, they're walkers. They don't use guns. They don't stop. They don't rest. They can't be negotiated with; all they do is feed on the living!"
"And that's why I took that rifle and blew those rotting corpses away!" John argued.
"The guns were supposed to be a last resort! The sound of that gunfire was probably heard for miles! Another herd could be on us any minute! Or what a group led by someone like the Governor? Do you want your people to remember you as the man who brought a war to their doorstep?"
John looked towards Cell Block D, shifted his posture, and huffed. "If anyone or anything comes this way, we'll just go over to that laundry cart, take out the guns, and fill them full of lead!"
"That's your plan?" Rick asked.
"It's a better plan that hiding behind these fences and poking those walkers with a sharpened stick!"
"Take another look at where we are, John!" Rick ordered as he pointed to his right. "That's a prison, not a bullet factory! We've got to conserve the ammunition we have left! Why do you think Glenn, Maggie, and Tyreese went into the tombs and got the guns the Governor's army dropped?"
John opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.
"Listen very carefully," Rick ordered as he tapped John's chest with the rifle's muzzle. "I'm in charge of this prison. What I say is law. If you disagree with that, you can pack your things, take a car, drive down that road, and find a life for yourself somewhere in the wilderness."
John's eyes narrowed and his hands balled up into fists. "I'm not leaving Donna, and I'm not leaving my people."
Rick glared back unafraid. "Your wife, your people—most of them anyway—wouldn't last a day out there."
The two men continued to glare silently at each other for a long time, until John finally blinked. "Okay, Rick. You want to be the new Governor….consider this election day."
Rick poked John's chest with the rifle's muzzle one last time. "Don't ever call me by that title again," he said coldly.
John blinked, and he moved his jaw, but he said nothing. Rick stomped towards Cell Block D, and John watched him stomp away.
•••
"Dad!" Carl cheered as he ran forward and wrapped his arms around his father's waist.
Rick's anger towards John vanished the instant Carl hugged him and he returned the hug with his left hand while he held onto the M4A1 with his right. "Carl," he said wearily.
"Are you all right?" Carl asked as he looked up at his father. "I saw a herd come out of the woods."
"I'm fine, son," Rick answered. "So are Michonne, Glenn, and Maggie."
Carl let go of his father and took a step to the left to look across the courtyard at John, who was still glaring at them. "John took one of the guns. You said I should give him one. I heard a lot of shooting. He killed all the walkers didn't he?"
Rick remembered being pinned to the ground by Michonne as John opened fire on the remnants of the herd like it was target practice. Now, Rick started worrying again if a herd or a group of killers had heard the shooting and were coming this way. "Yes, Carl. John did kill them," he said.
"You said John could take a gun," Carl reminded his father nervously.
"I know, Carl," Rick nodded. "You did the right thing."
Instead of smiling because he won his father's approval, Carl lowered his head in shame. "That Sam and some other guys wanted to take the guns," he muttered with the Stetson hat blocking his face. "I…I fired a shot over their heads."
Rick placed the M4A1's stock on the ground and knelt down in front of Carl. "Yeah, I heard the shot," he said quietly.
Carl kept his head down and Rick heard his son start to cry. "I'm sorry, Dad. I was just trying to stop them. I didn't want to really shoot anybody. Please don't be mad."
"Hey, Carl. Carl," Rick said softly as he put his hand under his son's chin and pushed it up gently so he could see his son's face. "I'm not mad."
Carl sniffled and looked at his father.
"I asked you to guard the guns and ammo, and you did exactly that. Nobody was hurt, just a couple of adults who got scared and ran inside."
Carl rubbed the tears off his face and smiled at his father.
Rick stood up and took a step back as he held the M4A1 rifle in his hands. "Do you remember the steps to cleaning an automatic rifle?" he asked Carl.
Carl stuck his hands into his pockets and kicked at the ground. "Uh…no," he admitted.
"Well, this one needs to be cleaned," Rick said as he examined the weapon. "How about after dinner you can show me what you remember, and I'll help fill in the blanks?"
"Sure," Carl smiled.
"Fine," Rick said as he leaned the rifle against the staircase to Cell Block C. "I've got to talk to somebody. Keep up the good work, all right?
"All right!" Carl smiled as he took his hands out of his pockets and stood straight.
•••
Rick walked alongside Cell Block C when he heard Judith crying. He stopped in his tracks and turned to his left and saw Donna stepping through the doorway with Judith in her arms. "I'm sorry," Donna laughed embarrassingly, "this is the first time I've held her."
Rick smiled. "It's okay. She'll get used to you."
Beth stepped out of the cellblock next, followed by Sasha, who was wielding the same Mossberg 500 shotgun from when Michonne returned yesterday. After the women stepped out onto the courtyard, Hershel hobbled out of the cellblock on his crutches.
"Rick, we heard gunfire," Hershel said worriedly.
Rick raised a hand to signal a pause. "It's all right, Hershel. John panicked and gunned down the last of the walkers."
Hershel looked out at the fence line and the long, gray road beyond it that stretched out into the horizon. "But…another herd…another group…"
"Nothing's shown up so far, so let's hope it stays that way," Rick said.
Judith continued to cry in Donna's arms as the old woman turned around and looked at Hershel. "I'm sorry. John was just trying to help. The Governor never game him a chance when we lived in Woodbury."
Hershel nodded comfortingly. "I understand, Donna. Everyone's all right, and that's what's important."
Rick looked at Cell Block D with its iron door closed, and thought about Floyd and the dozens of Woodburians who deserted the fence line and hid inside their cell block as the walkers attacked. Rick realized that Sasha had been inside Cell Block C, protecting Judith, Beth, and Hershel instead of her own people. He turned towards the young black woman, and noticed she was pointing the shotgun's barrel at the ground and had her finger resting alongside the trigger guard. Good trigger discipline, Rick thought. Most of the Woodburians aren't worth much, but she learns quickly.
"Sasha," Rick said.
"Yeah?" Sasha asked nervously.
"Why aren't you in Cell Block C, with your group?"
Sasha looked past Rick at the motor pool; the Dodge Ram 1500 truck was moving forward slowly as it towed the flatbed trailer behind it, and it turned the corner and disappeared behind the motor pool. In a little while, Tyreese and the construction crew would take the second iron door down from its hinges and they'd use it and the other door they'd taken down as the new gate.
"My brother's over there, Rick, trying to build a gate that will protect all of us. If those walkers got past you, my people would never have let me outside to save him."
Family's important to her, and she's brave, Rick thought, I wish I hadn't lost it and chased her and her brother out of the prison when I first met them.
"I understand," Rick nodded. A moment later he began walking towards Cell Block D.
"You can't blame them for being afraid, Rick," Hershel said sternly as he watched Rick getting closer to the Woodburians' cell block.
Rick didn't respond to Hershel's statement and he continued walking towards the cell block.
"Rick!" Donna called out worriedly, as Judith continued to cry in her arms.
Rick ignored Donna's plea too and walked up the cell block's staircase. His police instincts kicked in and his thumb brushed the strap off his holster and his hand wrapped around the walnut handle of his Colt Python revolver.
Rick stood on the staircase's concrete landing. He had given John a set of prison keys to lock the cell block at night, so he knew the iron door was unlocked. But Rick also knew that John wasn't carrying his Colt M1911A1 pistol today, and it was a possibility that Floyd or another Woodburian was aiming it at the iron door.
"Sasha!" Rick called out as he looked back at the young black woman, "get Hershel and the others inside the cell block!"
Sasha nodded and began to gently move Hershel, Beth, and Donna into Cell Block C. "Okay, come on, everybody. Get back inside," she whispered urgently.
Judith seemed to sense the anger in Rick's voice and the tension in Donna's arms and she started crying louder and flaying her tiny limbs.
"Rick, don't do anything foolish!" Hershel ordered as he hobbled inside Cell Block C.
Rick waited for Sasha and the others to get inside Cell Block C before he drew his Colt Python revolver from its holster. The gun's weight felt odd to Rick and he suddenly realized that he hadn't held it since that night in Woodbury, when he gave it to a dying Andrea so she could commit suicide; he still hadn't removed the spent case from the cylinder.
Rick shook his head to brush away the unpleasant memory of Andrea's death. He balled his left hand into a fist and pounded on the iron door.
BAM! BAM!
"Floyd! This is Rick! I'm opening the door!"
Rick counted to ten so Floyd would have time to process his announcement, then his left hand wrapped around the door handle and he used the door as a shield as it slid open across the doorway track.
BLAM!
A bullet shot of the common room and flew past Rick, who dropped down to one knee and pressed his back against the iron door. "Hold your fire!" Rick ordered.
Far behind Rick, Sasha stepped out the side door of Cell Block C with the Mossberg 500 shotgun in her hands, while Carl peeked around the corner, with his Beretta 92FS pistol drawn.
"Rick!" Sasha cried.
"Dad!" Carl cried.
"You two stay back!" Rick ordered.
Sasha looked over her shoulder at Carl, who nodded reluctantly. Sasha went back into Cell Block C, and bumped into Beth, who was trying to step outside. Carl looked at his father worriedly, and stepped behind Cell Block C.
With Carl and Sasha out of the line of fire, Rick stood up, put both hands on the handle of his revolver, and inched himself closer to the partially open doorway. "Floyd!" he shouted.
A few moments later, a scared voice asked "Rick?! Is that you?!"
"Who the hell else would it be?!" Rick answered angrily.
More silence followed, until Floyd finally said, "I…I thought you got overrun by the walkers!"
Rick snorted contemptuously. "Drop that gun and put your hands up! I'm coming in!"
"Okay!" Floyd said. An instant later a clanking sound was heard.
Rick aimed his gun inside the cell block's vestibule and peeked inside slowly; it was clear. Rick stepped inside and saw a Colt M1911A1 pistol lying on the common room's floor and behind it stood a pair of feet. Rick walked towards the common room's doorway, put his back against it, and a moment later aimed his gun inside the common room and peered inside.
Floyd stood in the center of the common room with a frightened look on his face and his hands above his face. Sam wasn't in the room, but the other Woodburians were huddled together like they did yesterday when they thought the Governor returned.
"Step away from the gun," Rick ordered as he pointed his service revolver at Floyd.
Floyd nodded quickly and took four steps away from the pistol. Rick lowered the Colt Python to his side, walked down the common room's staircase, and glared at Floyd as he walked towards him.
"I'm sorry, Rick! You've got to believe me, man, I'm so sorry!" Floyd cried nervously.
Rick grabbed Floyd by the collar of his jacket and growled angrily as he shoved him to the left. Floyd's back hit the wall hard, his heavy framed glasses fell to the floor and he cried out in pain.
"You left me at the fence to die!" Rick shouted as he pressed his forearm against Floyd's throat. "You got half of your people to follow you and hide in this cell block!"
The Woodburians in the common room gasped and watched fearfully as Rick manhandled Floyd.
"I was scared! Floyd pleaded. "I was—"
Rick shoved the barrel of the Colt Python against Floyd's cheek. "You left my people at the fence to die! The people who help keep you safe! "
Floyd shut his eyes and tears seeped out from between his eyelids. "I'm sorry, Rick!"
"And then you shot at me!"
"I'm sorry!"
"Shut up!" Rick ordered.
Floyd shut his mouth and whimpered as the tears kept running down his face.
"Nod if you're listening to me!"
Floyd nodded several times.
"If you were twenty years younger, Floyd, I'd break your jaw! If you ever fuck up again I swear I'll do worse than that!"
Floyd's lips started trembling and he nodded several times again to show that he understood Rick's threat. Rick took his forearm away from Floyd's throat and the older man fell to the floor and started sobbing.
Rick turned around and glared at the shocked Woodburians. "Where's the other coward?" he asked angrily.
A woman pointed a trembling hand at the cellblock doorway. Rick holstered his Colt Python, walked over to the pistol lying on the floor, picked it up, and walked into the cell block. When Rick left the common room, the Woodburians ran over to Floyd and they all muttered to the crying man if he was all right.
•••
Rick heard a man weeping in one of the cells on the second tier, so he tucked the pistol against the small of his back, walked up the staircase, walked along the second tier, and found Sam sitting on the bottom bunk of his cell with his head in his hands. Sam sensed that someone was standing in the cell doorway, and looked up to see a furious Rick glaring down at him.
"Rick…your son...nearly killed me," Sam said weakly as he wiped the tears away from his eyes.
Rick grimaced contemptuously, and a moment later swung a fist at Sam.
POW!
The punch connected with Sam's jaw and he fell onto the cell floor.
"Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Sam cried as he sat up, rubbing his jaw.
"Shut up," Rick ordered as he stepped inside the cell.
Sam stopped rubbing his jaw, and looked wide-eyed at Rick.
"You abandoned the fence line, Sam. Worse than that, you and your friends tried to steal the guns I brought outside. My son's guarding those guns. What were you going to do to my son, Sam, were you going to kill him?"
"No," Sam answered as he shook his head wildly. "I wasn't going to do any—"
Rick swung his fist at Sam again.
POW!
Rick's punch struck Sam's cheek and he fell back onto the cell floor again. Sam groaned painfully as Rick waited for him to sit up again.
"Listen, Sam. This prison is safe, but its safety is teetering over a pit; all it takes are assholes like you to shove it over the edge. When you try to deal with walkers when you have no clue as to how to go about it, you put everyone's lives at risk…you put my children's lives at risk. If you try that again…I'll kill you."
Sam looked wide-eyed at Rick and nodded slowly. Rick walked out of the cell and left Sam to tend to the bruises on his face and change his wet pants.
•••
The evening had grown chilly as Rick walked across the courtyard with his jacket buttoned up to his throat and his hands in the jacket's pockets. Cold mornings, mild afternoons, and cold evenings; the fall has definitely arrived, Rick thought. We've got to get as much of the prison rebuilt as quickly as we can before it gets too cold to work outdoors.
Rick stopped at the edge of the courtyard and looked downhill at the new gate: the former iron doors to the motor pool were posted along the dirt road and placed ten yards from the fence line. A system of ropes and pulleys operated the doors, and their flanks were protected by a barbed wire fence; it was meant to be a temporary measure until the cheval de frise Hershel talked about were carved.
Beyond the new gate were the dozens of dead walkers the group had earlier. When Henry and the construction crew drove the Dodge Ram 1500 down to the fence line with the iron doors loaded onto the flatbed trailer, Rick and the group dragged the dead out of the way so the construction crew could get to work. When the new gate was put up, everyone was too tired to celebrate, let alone gather up the dead onto the trailer and take them to an open field for burning; that would have to wait until after the supply run.
Glenn and Maggie were on guard duty tonight and they were standing in the field, both of them had a bucket slung underneath their arms andthey were taking rocks from the buckets and arranging them in a small circular pile; apparently the new gate had given the young couple the confidence to build a campfire the way the group used to build them at the quarry or when they were on the road.
"Hi, Rick!" Glenn said happily as he waved at the group's leader. Maggie looked up the hill, tucked a rock under her arm and waved too. Rick took hand out of his jacket pocket and waved at the young couple, who went back to work preparing their campfire.
"That gate is a sight to behold," a voice said behind Rick.
Rick turned around and saw Hershel, wearing his black jacket, and hobbling forward on his crutches. "Yeah," Rick agreed as he looked back at the gate. "It took a lot of work but it was worth it."
"I think it took a little bit of something else," Hershel said as he hobbled alongside Rick.
"Let me guess: faith," Rick said with an eyebrow raised as he looked at Hershel.
"Exactly," Hershel said with a warm smile.
Rick looked down at the gate and shrugged. "Well, let's just say one man's bit of good luck is another man's faith in God and leave it at that."
Hershel patted Rick's shoulder. "If you say so, Rick."
The two men stood side-by-side in silence for a few moments until Rick asked, "I'm sure you've heard about my argument with John?"
"I have, along with your handling of Floyd and Sam," Hershel answered.
"Do you think I handled them the wrong way?"
Hershel looked up at the reddening sky. "John firing that rifle could've brought all sorts of trouble here. Floyd abandoning the fence line nearly started a retreat that put you, Maggie, and everyone else who stayed to fight the walkers at risk. Sam tried to take the guns Carl was guarding. Floyd fired a shot at you. I certainly understand your anger at the three of them, but I think your anger got the better of your judgement."
"I was afraid you'd say something like that," Rick said as he looked down at his boots. A moment later the sheriff's deputy raised his head and sighed wearily. "I'm not winning those people over. I thought I did when John and I put our differences aside, but I'm back to where I started."
"You'll win them over. You did with me, remember?" Hershel smiled.
Rick smiled at Hershel in appreciation, but a moment later as he looked at the new gate he ran a hand through his hair and sighed wearily again. "I'm so tired of this: being the leader. Now our numbers have doubled and so have our problems."
"Bringing those people from Woodbury back was the right decision," Hershel reminded Rick.
"I know," Rick said wearily.
"You don't have to do this alone. You have Daryl. You have Glenn."
"Michonne told me nearly the same thing."
"Oh really?" Hershel asked with mild amusement.
Rick nodded. "She said I've got Carl and Judith to worry about, and she asked how long I thought I can keep going."
"Well…she's right on both counts."
Rick took his hand out of jacket pocket and rubbed his jaw in thought. Are Hershel and Michonne right? Isn't it time I let Daryl and Glenn handle some of the leadership? They've both proven themselves, and I've got to make time for Carl and Judith.
A minute later, Rick lowered his hand and shook his head. "No," he answered. "Not until this prison is rebuilt. After we've gotten the watchtowers rebuilt, and brought in some food to last us a few weeks, then I'll take some time off."
Hershel nodded in understanding. "All right, Rick. So is the supply run still scheduled for tomorrow?"
"It is. I'll announce the names of the group members I've chosen for the supply run after dinner. I'll tell you now that Maggie and Glenn aren't going; after they went into the tombs to gather up those guns the Governor's army dropped, I have no right to ask them to risk their lives so soon."
Hershel looked downhill and watched as his oldest daughter and the young Korean man she loved sit down in the field and wait for the sun to set so they could light the campfire. "I know Maggie and Glenn can take care of themselves, but…thank you for that decision, Rick."
Rick smiled and patted Hershel on the shoulder.
"So have you decided where we're going to find some food?" Hershel asked.
"You'll probably say a prayer for my soul if I told you," Rick quipped.
"I say a prayer every day for all our souls," Hershel corrected the sheriff's deputy. "So where are you taking the group?"
Rick turned to the right to face Hershel. "It's been a year since the Turn; the supermarkets have been cleared out, hospitals too, so I've been thinking outside the box."
"And what are you thinking, Rick?" Hershel asked.
"I think our best bet…is just that; a bet."
Hershel blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I'm taking the group to the casino that opened outside Atlanta a few weeks before the Turn happened…The El Dorado."